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“What the hell is this?!”

“I wasn’t trying to feel you up--- I meant to take your wallet!” Oh, pausing just for enough time to think, his face began to show embarrassment. That was probably worse.

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Shaking his head fondly, Eugene whispered something barely-audible in the woman’s ear and soon she was off to her own business. Turning to the other man, he raised his glass and gave it a sharp clink against the other. “A toast to long-lasting friends, maybe? I dunno, anything but her laugh.” Oh, he’d heard the woman’s cackle alright. Honestly, he was glad she left... she frightened him just a bit.

“One has to be born an elf,” she replied, stepping back away from his hand, “In order to have these ears. And our youth is not tied to our years, but rather to what one might call our emotional state. Lastly, immortality is not invulnerability.”.

“Well, that’s just unfair.” He muttered, though no hard feelings were apparent. “Wait, so you’re telling me the same stuff they always try to sell! I’m happy enough to look good... but immortality sure sounds interesting.”

Her long scarf is unlikely to trip or tangle others, though if it does happen Wayfarer probably wouldn’t notice.

“A word of advice: you might want to carry this... y’know, unless you like the look of footprints.”

       the devious glint in his eye and the way his gaze remains trained on her locks does little to reassure her of his supposedly pure intentions, but she would rather wait to hear his explanation before calling him out on his behavior.

“Well,” Beginning his sentence with a drawn-out word, he smiled more sincerely at her question. The woman was likely not used to the city yet, especially not all the modern advances. He used his hands to gesture at his own hair and continued. “Ever heard of a wig? Sometimes they use real hair, y’know. And kids always want long, pretty hair!” Or whoever could pay a good price.

          “Well, no,” she replies over her shoulder, brows rising. “Th’ point is t’ make folks not wanna fight you at all– not have t’ prove to ‘em that they shouldn’t.” Or that was the idea she was getting from him. “An’ I know ‘cause I had t’ learn, why else?” 

Squinting, he felt a bit outsmarted by the girl. Really---he wouldn’t have thought of that reasoning. “Yeah... there’s just one problem with that---most people don’t like smart-asses.” Or thieves... but that was not something he had to admit. “Wait, why would YOU have to learn this stuff? You’re like sixteen!”

“Say, I bet you’d make a great scapegoat.” Without hesitance, Mal elbowed the glass. The very hard, reinforced glass. A shock of pain traveled up her arm, but she hardly had time to tend to it. The glass case, with necklace, flew off the pedestal and if alarms hadn’t been going off before, they sure were blaring now. Why did she have to mess things up all the time? She might as well take the whole thing. Where was it?

“Ha---” Taking a running start towards the box she’d knocked over, he shoved his own loot in the bag and grabbed at her desired necklace. “Good choice...” He smirked at her, though his feet stopped and he simply stood there gloating.

Holding back an exasperated sigh, Zakuro finally consented to turn towards her conversational partner (though she’d much rather he hadn’t assigned that role to himself) and gave him a cold - perhaps even intimidating - look, as devoid of emotion as her voice was when she replied. “Why do you think that what I do or don’t do is any of your business? I don’t even know you.” Nor did she care to, frankly.

“Well jeez, no need for apathy in your tone!” He replied with the sound of offense to his own voice, eyes narrowed as if skeptical for once. Even so, he held out an empty hand and offered it to her as he introduced himself. “Hey---I’m Flynn.” Maybe once they did know each other, she’d lighten up a bit.

Warren Buffett (via fy-perspectives)