@experimentalfma asked:
The day felt like it had dragged on endlessly by the time Havoc set foot in the park. The team had been caught up in a long, drawn-out meeting that lasted until the very end of the work day, and by the time it finally wrapped up, his mind was already on getting outside for a cigarette.
He lit up as soon as he was able to get outside and headed toward the park to kill an hour or so people watching quietly from a bench toward the back of the square. However, someone was already sitting on his preferred bench, though they seemed distracted, glancing down at automail ankles for something Havoc couldn't discern from this distance. Crushing his cigarette under his boot, he looked them over curiously. They were definitely pretty, and though they were sitting alone, it didn't look like they were waiting for anyone. Maybe they wouldn't mind a bit of company.
Havoc walked over to sit down beside them on the opposite side of the bench, pulling one cigarette free from the packet he withdrew from his front pocket and setting it between his lips, occasionally glancing up out of the corner of his eye at the person he was sharing the bench with for a subtle better look. Definitely not someone he would mind getting to know a little better.
He leaned back and draped an arm over the back of the bench, holding out the packet in the other hand toward the person beside him with a smile, trying to catch their eye. "I've got a light if you want one," he offered.
King yawned softly, tired from walking around all day, snacking and exploring, they began to internally wonder where they were going to stay tonight. The hotel they had been occupying for fairly cheap was on the other side of the country, and this bench was looking all the more appetizing the longer they sat there. Stretching a little, they wiggled their toes in their shoes experimentally. Honestly, automail still felt weird, even after all these weeks of having it. Metal all the way up their legs, meeting flesh halfway up their thighs, it was an awful phantom-like feeling. Missing these limbs always reminded King the price for visiting such an interesting world. Damn this curse of theirs. While contemplating if their automail would survive the trek back, or if it would survive the night here on this bench, someone sat beside them. Not yet looking up, they examined the bolts in their ankles, curious if everything was secure. Blue eyes peered past long black bangs, assessing his lower half first, not quite raising their head to acknowledge him. Not yet anyway, instead they observed his shoes, his clothing choice, military? Likely, after all Amestris was ripe with military types. The blue was a beautiful color though, and so King let their eyes drift higher, and higher, until they couldn't see without moving their head. Slowly, as if only just now noticing him, they straightened up, and allowed him his movement to lay his arm across the bench behind their back. Alarms would normally ring in their mind about the casual stretch, the movement used often by assassin's... But also by flirty men. King looked upwards at the sky, for a moment, only a moment though. Because as soon as his voice hit their ears it was like a familiar song bloomed across their vision. Synesthesia lit up their vision. Beautiful golden vines with thorns sprung across their sight, marring the sunset sky. Those golden vines carried for both voices that she's ever heard him speak in, English, Japanese, any really... but to hear them in the Amestrian tongue, and right next to her? The smile bloomed unwittingly. They hadn't met anyone quite yet. But still, seeing him up and walking around was... a joy unknown to him, something akin to hope bloomed in their heart.
"A handsome man like you, assuming that a lady like me wants a smoke?"
The tone was teasing, a fanged smile blooming across catlike lips, unable to be held back as they pushed their bangs aside, revealing shock blue eyes. Japanese features- Er... Xingese features, obvious on their face, but they sounded fluent in Amestrian, not a single stumble on the words. Despite this, speaking the Amestrian tongue felt heavy to King, their curse working it's power to grant them the ability to speak a language they shouldn't know. They held out their hand, setting both feet on the ground. Painted nails extended to the packet, retrieving a single cigarette from the box and placing it between blue painted lips.
"I'd love one, darling. I go by [King] where I'm from, but it translates to... Well King." They first said their name in American English, repeating it in Amestrian, emphasizing their foreignness to him.
