He smiles, his mind was indeed unusual. He appreciated the compliment, answering it with a proud smile. She too had an unusual brain. He felt the same, enjoyed a left from norm. It probable drew him to people, their not so normalness. Because how fucking boring was normal.
"Youâre not wrong. A hat, mask and big shades really just says look at me. I find a lot of recovering surgery patients in that get up in my neighborhood. Getting their walk in for fresh air in the wee hour of the morning. But I know they think it makes them invisible so I play pretend with themâ, he says steering the car away from annoyingly slow Kia. âBut maybe thats the point. You see the big shades and that says leave me alone, you donât see me, so your eyes avoid the get up.â, he says slowing at the red light.
Somewhere, somewhere there is an attendant itching, scratching and feeling dread. Probably at the fucking fortress of a home where the living are dead and the dead lay sleeping. Funny enough, there was an actual fortress, atop a hill, looking over the sea. Itâs entrance seemed impractical, the deep forests impenetrable. There generations of the old bloodline came squawking into the world, except Souk. He was second of his generation to be born at that new Estate. In those halls an attendant was falling over at the idea of a little prince being manservant to another.
It stretched his grin from ear to ear. Even if he posed it, hearing it back was just too funny, too fictional, an absurdity. Next he would be in their little suits and pockets full of tricks. Wiping blood with hankerchiefs unlimited.
âIt could beâ, he answers. âIâll only know when I try. As for the chariot, an idiot would try stealing something this custom. I would enjoy that chaseâ, he smiled then turned right, vehicle then pulling up in front off the small artisan shoppe. The vehicle comes over some on the sidewalk, leaving enough room for vehicles to pass behind.
He turns off the engine. âWe will go in together. I know the owner. No gawking at your goddess glory, promiseâ, he eases from the car, making quick strides to get to the passenger side. The door opens and he extends his hand to help her out. These motions come second nature to him, without a thought. Not a way to flatter, not an act to seem better in anotherâs eyes, just built into the framework of his character.
The door opens and he lets her walk in ahead of him, following in and ringing the bell to get attention. Out of a door built into the wall, a medium built man emerges, white attire and aprom a contrast on his dark skin. He greets the two in Korean then takes a second look at Souk, a grin emerging lifting his face before the greeting in Xhosa and a nickname, the little trickster, the clicks ever sounding musical to the vampires ears.
Souk repeats the greeting in the ownerâs tongue, adding a small bow, respect given to the elder, even if he didnât look it. âYou already know what I want, Amahleâ, he says then looks to Mayari, Â "Iâve been here a few times in the past month", he explains.
Amahle looks to the petite woman, humming as he thinks. âNot strawberry huh?â he asks then looks back to Souk with a questioning look that vanishes soon enough. âLook around, you can sample anything and mix in any side you like,â he says before washing his hands then donning gloves. Souk walks to the counter and looks at the selection. Custom created and homemade flavors, sourced all over the world. Â " Can I have the dark chocolate waffle cone pieces crushed with caramel?â, he asks then looks over to Mayari with a smile. "I canât explain the sweet tooth. Maybe Iâm growing.â
Amahle scoffs but then smiles as he prepares to create the order he knows too well.
She takes his hand and follows him inside. Observing in silence his exchange with the employees, she finds herself once again theorizing about his background. All of this is highly unusual for a university student, even a wealthy one such as Su. So, she thinks, he has money money. Thatâs a given, what with the nonchalance at which he purchased those paintings at the gallery, his luxury clothing, the custom car.Â
When he tells her that heâs been here a few times, she simply nods. Given the familiarity with which the owner greets him, she presumes heâs being modest. Not strawberry, huh. A brow shoots up at this, but she lets it slide without comment.Â
âMmm, yes,â says Maja, âA growing boy.â She has no idea how old he is. Of course, she could guess based on context clues, but that wouldnât be very reliable. Not when she's reasonably sure heâs supernatural and thus could very well be centuries old.
She gazes down at the wide selection of ice creams, many of which are a rainbow of vibrant colors, boasting unique flavors: jackfruit and chili nut, ginger pineapple, soy sauce butterscotch, pistachio rose, matcha and dark chocolate, coffee and ube.Â
âI love ube,â she declares, âIt has such a beautiful color.â In fact, it was this very yam that inspired one of the matte shades in her makeup palette. The first food she can remember falling in love with was the ube halaya made by the elderly Lola in Manila who formally taught her how to read and write. She had made the pudding for Maja to celebrate her quick academic progress. âIt makes me think of home.âÂ
She gazes up at him. âWhat makes you think of home, Kwon Su?âÂ