Up close, the woman was far less intimidating. Her plain black shoes, casually emerging from the corner of the table, were scuffed, successive layers of rubber worn down to an almost flat sole. Her few pockets bulged, evidently struggling to contain significantly more than the designers had planned for. She smiled as the boy approached, by no means an unpleasant expression, though her teeth did maintain those fearsome points. The whole performance was shattered somewhat by the fact one of them was pink.
"Hey." She called, the unmistakeable hint of a Bretonian accent worming its way into her words. She shook her head madly in response to the boy's question; black hair bobbing back and forth like some demented see-saw. "Cold? Not yet. Give me....." The woman lowered her eyes, checking a non-existant watch. "Three seconds. There. Now I'm cold." She gave a convincing shiver, just to ram the point home.
"Oh, and don't call me Miss. My mother's miss." She really wasn't one to stand on ceremony, if you had something to say, best it was said. Just the formal stance of the boy was enough to irk her a little. "Merissa Wilkinson, at your service." She doffed an imaginary hat.
the man shrugs slightly putting the knife away as he busied himself inspecting the parasol with a odd fascination about it as his hand went along the stem toe find the button he'd of pushed before. this time he'd expected it to spring open and it did so slowly instead of in a rush like last time. He took a while to inspect the craft of the thing and how it worked and the pattern of things. He took an armored glove off to feel the texture of everything how ever he'd leave no finger prints or DNA behind.
"Those that don't see a star are to scared to live and not alot of people live for hundreds of years... only some can and they aren't all that free to explore the stars...... whats the history of this?"
There was a tone in his voice that suggested this was his opinion and his answer to what she'd have said. He folded the parasol down and offered it back to the lady after having asked about the history of it.
The woman looks down at the little boy. "Oh, Guten Tag, mien name is Carola, what's yours?" She attempts to smile warmly at the boy before she's distracted by the argument. She scoffs and gets another shot of vodka, downing it immediately.
User was banned for: Reidft
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The man came back to the bar, dressed in what the man had given him. Upon entering, almost everyone stared. His face was no longer covered up, revealing a young man, no later than his 20s with a bald head and scarring all across his face. He noticed many people starring, but he could neither comprehend what it was about him that was different nor could he feel the human emotion of embarrassment. He went to a seat in a corner, and began to study his hands an arms, for previously he had not been able to. Most of his body was covered all the time, and he was not allowed to take off his cloak.
He looked at himself, pondering.. Though, knowing. Knowing what was inside him, and what wasn't. Knowing that with just a simple thought, he could have most everyone in this room floored in a matter of seconds. But the thing he didn't know was whether it was him or not, or whether the power he had was evil or good. He tried to remember.. But as much as he tried, he could not bring back the memories that were once within him. All he knew is that he was Kusarian, and solely because someone had told him he looked that way.
The woman shivered again, goosebumps rising on her bare arms. Surely he should have been here by now. Reliable contact, my arse. She shrugged, ruling a line in her notebook, apparently fished from one of the many pockets. Perhaps she'd have better luck at the next site. Maybe the boy had deterred her contact. Regardless; it didn't matter now. Plenty of fish in the sea.
With a last glance at the scene unfolding in the Bar the woman known as Merissa stood, brushed a thin film of ice from her trousers, and made for the door. With any luck, the taxi wouldn't leave her waiting in the docking bay for three hours this time.
![[Image: Ptb1Ogm.png]](http://i.imgur.com/Ptb1Ogm.png)
