"You crush them and grind them to dust," Carmen replied. Matching his smirk.
Carmen doesn't say any more, as its clear the two have said their piece. The silence more a lack of words, as the atmosphere around them was nothing but a din of countless conversations. All mashed up and blended into the music pervading the establishment. Though Carmen often came here when visiting, there were also times when she wondered why she even came here. Silence was rare. A true treasure. Something actually worth holding in one's hands and taking time to consider. To relish.
Then the server broke the moment of reverie. Carmen hadn't lost focus on the Xeno, but her mind's train of thought ended. She got a hint of the scent from the drink and her nostrils subtly shifted, as she took an intentional sniff. Blueberry. Carmen only just recognized it. Something like a blueberry was a delicacy on Crete. Not something to be taken for granted. Such rare delicacies were savored. Every little blue-berry to be examined. Its white powdery layer gently wiped away to reveal the vibrant blue underneath. To then be delicately bitten into. Revealing the berries third color - purple. Such a curious little thing! No outsider would ever truly understand.
At his words, Carmen chuckled. "In that, we can agree on. It is much better to share company with someone possessing a backbone. Even if overall ideologies do not match. So to that, I can give you a toast, hombre."
She held up her glass to him.
Her silver eyes examined him casually, as she drank. So, the Xeno-man had some fearlessness. Good. It was detestable he slaved for the Outcasts, though. Shame. Maybe one day he might come to see the Outcasts for what they truly were and abandoned them. Saw true strength for what it was. Perhaps then they might get to truly know one another.
"So, amigo, tell me: where did you learn to fly? To fight?"
"My kin! We are Corsair! We are the 'Horned Ones'! By Crete we have been made strong! There is no foe we cannot defeat! No enemy shall be spared our horns! No friend or ally shall find us wanting! For we are Corsair! By the might of the Imperio we spread out our hands! All we see will be ours one day! I have had a dream. A dream of a green Crete. A paradise! And in that dream, our enemies are not there! Crushed and mangled beneath our horns! Uplift your voices! Shout with me! Corsair! Corsair! Corsair!"
-Carmen Elena 'Silver' Quintana of Clan Quintana of the Corsair Imperio
She finds her toast returned nonchalantly, all while the question seems to hang in the air between them, and he lets it, turning it over with the same leisurely patience one might give a coin they had no intention of spending. His head tilts, a slow and thoughtful shift from one side to the other, and then the corner of his mouth curls into something that isn't quite a smile.
"You wouldn't be the first to ask. Wouldn't be the hundredth, if I'm being honest."
A quiet exhale, almost amused, the sound of someone deeply comfortable sitting inside a secret.
"Most people who come looking for that answer walk away with more questions than they started with. I've always found that... more entertaining."
His eyes settle on her then, steady and measuring.
"But if you want something to hold onto, natural talent. That's what I'll give you."
Whether he believes his own words is entirely unclear. What is clear is that he's enjoying this, the slight tilt of the scales, the faint suggestion of a game she hadn't agreed to play but might already be losing.
