Traveling Thief

     Widowmaker had stuck to a traditional ham, egg, and cheese crepe. She had favored the savory ones when she had been Amélie. Not that such a name or memory had any place here. Nodding to the same man who had been watching her, and then cocking her head to nod at a nearby wire table, Widowmaker moved over to sit without waiting for a response. If he was going to watch, going to approach and order a crepe just as she had, then they ought to talk. Her first words to him, after she eloquently cut a piece of the crepe, and chewed it thoughtfully, were “nice wallet.” It was not his, and she could tell.

     “So, a huntress and a thief. How unlikely we should be sharing a meal when we are not on the same team, don’t you think?” Her words, accented with french inflections, were spoken with ease. She was not threatened. If he could tell anything of her, it mattered not. She had not acted in ill intent since arriving, only sought intel.

Her compliment seemed to come with an air of knowing, like she was fully aware that the wallet wasn’t his. Her next statement only confirmed that suspicion; she knew he was a thief, perhaps in the same way he knew there was blood on her hands.

“What about _?“ asks // accepting

“Hmph. What about him?“

Damn, that was right…he had to be honest, didn’t he? Of all the people he could have been asked about, though…why did it have to be someone he really hated talking about?

  It hadn’t been meant as a lecture, amusingly enough. Jotaro knew a bad attitude better than anyone else, called out on his own sharp words and stern look time and time again. He only meant it as a simple fact– I wasn’t staring, so you don’t need to be mad. Seemed like his new friend couldn’t read him all that well, not that anyone could on a first meeting. 

  What a pain. He only greeted the sarcasm with the same disinterested glance, shoving his hands in his pockets and sulking into the bench– before looking away entirely. Nothing to worry about, to him. Just some guy with a too hot temper, not unlike his own. Only… well, Jotaro figured he would’ve known better than to pick a fight with the 6′5″ wall of muscle. Luckily, he wasn’t really in the mood to get into a pointless argument. He fought with his fists, not his voice. 

  “ …Whatever you say. ” And that was just about all he wanted to offer further. He could see where this was going, and he had better things to put his energy toward. 

Usually, someone of such a massive size would be quick to respond to such sharply sarcastic words; it was more than a little surprising when the stranger nearby didn’t. That, and the quiet gave him an opportunity to imagine the look he might get from, say, Ophilia, for being needlessly rude. He almost felt...guilty.

Ugh, winding up in this new place wasn’t doing any favors for his disposition. He didn’t go around picking fights...was he so thrown off that he needed to act like a bratty kid?

     Lowered emotion, no feelings to hold back her observations or distract her. Heightened senses, she knew her surroundings at any moment, kept awareness most could not. She was being watched. She knew what it felt like, knew the signs, and with the slightest angle of her head, her eyes spotted something interesting. That man, whiteish hair, he was watching her, trying to appear as though he was not, but she could see the angle of his neck, that glint in his eyes. So she stared, met his eyes, she already had the upper hand. For a man who knew not of her crimes, he already seemed to recognize her threat. Then she offered a cheeky wave, as if they were old friends, before turning to the food cart beside her and ordering a crepe, keeping tabs on him from the corner of her eye.

They’d made eye contact, but Therion didn’t feel particularly threatened knowing he’d been spotted. The wave, however, confused him somewhat. He didn’t know this woman, so why would she wave like they were...friends, or something like that?

...Did he really just witness what he sensed to be a seasoned deathdealer order a crepe? How utterly...non-threatening. He was no stranger to coded messages used in taverns and other such establishments, and as much as he fancied a glass of ale, he didn’t think that was going on here.

      He isn’t really sure what to do with himself here, by himself. He’s used to existing as part of a unit- himself and Mad Burnish, then himself and Galo- and so the lack of both leaves him… at a loss. He wonders what Meis and Gueira could be up to, what they’d say if they found where he’d ended up. Teasing would probably be involved, but that’s not a strange thought– it usually is, when they’re all together.            His attention is drawn from the thoughts by the faint flicker of firelight, eyes following the glow until they find the source. The fire reminds him of the chill in the city, and how he’s still not quite used to feeling it without a way to keep himself warm. He’s so caught up in remembering being able to stay warm on his own that he almost misses the invitation. Almost.            “…huh? Oh.” 

          Pale eyes blink at the man curiously, a curious tilt to his brows as he nears. He has no reason not to near, but instinct makes him wary, no matter how the fire calls.            Well– metaphorically, at least. It can’t really call to him anymore, and for some reason that though hits him suddenly enough that he stops a foot or so from the fire, staring into it with a frown. He shakes himself out of it after a moment, and inclines his head in a faint nod, extending gloved fingers toward the flames.            “…did you start this?” 

It was apparent that the green-haired man seemed a bit wary of Therion...he must have had some good instincts. But he didn’t take it personally by any means. By then, he was more than accustomed to it.

He shook his head in response to the simple question. “Nah. But whoever did left it, so I’m taking it over.” Taking things that didn’t belong to him was what Therion did best, after all.

  Passing glares and sharp comments were common, really– when people weren’t complaining about his size, it was because he was deep in thought. His gaze would linger on someone for too long, and regardless as to where his mind actually was… they tended to get pissy. If he hadn’t been mentally preoccupied, he would’ve immediately thought this guy was the type to get snappy; the way he held himself, the face he buried in his scarf. Too late to think of that now, though. Unnecessary commentary was plenty to spur him from his thoughts, leaning forward and frowning at the stranger he’d apparently been staring down. 

  The guy didn’t seem intimidated by the unintentional death glare he’d gotten– if anything, he sounded irritated. Great. The last thing he needed right now was some random bastard’s piss poor attitude. Not that the sharp click of his tongue and shifting of his hands to his pockets would help with that, eyes narrowing a fraction in innate suspicion. 

  “ No. ” Matter of fact and blunt, though a brief paused divided it from the rest of his words. “ If you’re pissed because I was staring, I wasn’t. So you can drop the shit attitude. ” No offense taken, no aggression in his words– but no reassurance, either, leaving his meaning rather ambiguous. 

Well, the big guy wasn’t one to mince words or tiptoe around what he wanted to say. Therion admired that, but he was hardly one to go around lecturing a stranger about having a bad attitude. Not with that look on his face. He sure as hell didn’t need someone trying to parent him or tell him how to carry himself, either.

He narrowed his eyes for a moment, hands still hidden in his pockets as he stood casually nearby. His body language was remarkably relaxed for someone about to exchange less than friendly words with such a hulking figure.

     Oh really, was that all he was concerned about? Petty squabbles among inebriated humans and rumors of illicit activities? Larkspur fights to bite back a chuckle as she listens to him speak, lest she ruin the facade of innocence she’s created for herself. In his eyes she was simply a careless girl who was in way over her head. For now, she wanted to keep it that way.

     “That’s the job of a gentleman, isn’t it?” The teasing tone continues to permeate her voice, ruby gaze never leaving his own. “To escort the lady! You are a gentleman, are you not?” The reason why he approached her matters not, for now he has the vampire’s attention. Why not take advantage of the situation?

     A grin, pearly fangs poking out from her lips. “Silly thing, I’m not trying to go anywhere.” Spinning on the heel of her black boots dramatically, she extends her arm in a grandiose motion. “A little adventure is all I’m after! What could be more fun than the city at night?” Anything else, really. “Why not go where fate takes us, hm? Much more enjoyable that way!”

Therion stifled a laugh. Nobody ever called him a gentleman unless they were being blatantly sarcastic, and with good reason. Although, Cordelia always called him “Mr. Therion,” so maybe it was just a rich, sheltered girl thing to assume that most men were of the genteel variety.

Therion had spent enough time among criminals to know when he was near one, and wow, this woman was giving off something strong. The scent of blood, perhaps. It almost gave him goosebumps.

Therion wasn’t much of a fan of the cold. The harsh sunlight of the Cliftlands was more his style...but it couldn’t be helped. He was stuck in Koi, where it was winter and there was snow on the ground. He didn’t much care to be cooped up inside, and he didn’t feel like visiting the tavern.

Off in the distance, he could see the familiar glow of a fire...in what appeared to be an otherwise empty garbage can. Well, it would help keep the chill away, at least. He went toward it, feeling the warmth the closer he got. He stood as close to it as he comfortably could - he didn’t like the idea of his poncho catching fire.

Therion wasn’t exactly sure what prompted him to talk to such an obviously clueless girl walking around at night. She looked pretty well-to-do and would otherwise have made a good mark. Maybe it was because ever since arriving in Koi, he hadn’t really needed to steal from anyone. It was a weird feeling, and one he wasn’t accustomed to at all.

“Lots of things,“ he informed her. “I’ve seen a couple of fights happen outside the tavern when some idiots want to ‘take it outside,’ and I’ve heard crime is pretty common in this area. Plus...“ He smirked, though only a little. “There are thieves around here, too.“

He smirked in amusement. Yeah, he was a good enough liar, but he didn’t feel the need to try especially hard to make up some lie that would be passable for truth.

He frowned noticeably. His name? He only gave it some thought once, a very long time ago...and he regretted it as soon as he did.

     “My secret?”

     Eve blinked in mild surprise. She’d been wondering if he would give up his chase or simply give up and go away. Persistence led from one thing to another but what she didn’t expect was for him to step up and speak to her. She wasn’t entirely clear on what he was asking–her secret to what? Noticing she was being followed? She didn’t know why he might be following her, but the simple fact that she was being stalked (to put a word on it) was enough for her to go on the defensive.

     It wasn’t her first experience with it, after all, and the last person she’d known to do it had been quite persistent in tailing her everywhere.

     “Are you speaking of how I knew you were there? In that case, it is a simple function of mine. In short, I am able to detect signals from living and electronic beings within a certain range. It is different to differentiate most human signals unless they are paired with certain other energies, but I noticed one staying a fairly consistent distance from me, and rarely straying outside the perimeter.” The explanation was long-winded, boring, and unfortunately, nothing a non-robotic being was even capable of. She also gestured to the black drone floating beside her. “I also had Moby focus on the consistent signal–yours–it is like the human phenomenon of selective attention–and confirm for me that it was staying nearby. Does that answer your question? If it does, then I have one for you.”

     Her nonchalant gaze stiffened.

     “Why are you following me?”

Well, she was being pretty nonchalant about the encounter. Then again, she could have turned around and smacked him at any point prior, so maybe she just wasn’t an easily fazed person.

However, her jargon was confusing to him. She may as well have been speaking an entirely different language...and why was she referring to “humans” as though she wasn’t one herself? And that “Moby” thing she pointed to...he’d never seen anything like that, either.