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It was depressing how easy it was to fish up a crowd of born and bred assholes just by looking vulnerable.
Jackie wasn't a good liar, or really even a decent actor, but one thing she could do was set herself up to seem like prey. Hunting, she understood. Predators, she understood- Teagan had helped with that. This was their game, really- she just had the controller for a little while (for once, not just an excuse for bad gameplay). A pair of too-high heels, a short dress that lined up with that good old faithful "asking for it" myth, stockings and long sleeves to hide scars beneath nylon and cloth. And then, just take a walk past enough seedy bars and things would handle themselves.
A quick glance back when she determined she was being followed, and a tiny increase in pace to suggest timidity, was all the acting she could respectably manage, keeping her face turned away, shoulders hunched, She even went into an alley with a gate, closing it- without locking it- behind herself, and waiting in the shadows as if she hoped those on her trail would drift into the night on their own.
No such luck for them. In moments, the gate creaked as it was pushed open to admit four particularly unlucky souls to the alleyway, though their misfortune was entirely their own doing. What they saw was what they expected- a slender woman, shoulders hunched, hiding behind her hair, hands tucked under her little jacket for warmth and comfort in the dark, dead-end alley. "Hey, sweet stuff, what made you hurry off so fast? We didn't even get a chance to say hello!"
There's a fluttering of feathered wings as a large raven lands atop the gate that the cretins had just passed through. It perches there, head turned to one side, then to the other, and watches the way that things are unfolding. When the men address Jackie the way that they do, the raven lets out a soft, croaking laugh of a call. It's not loud, but it certainly gives the impression that the bird is amused by something. That could just be anthropomorphism, though.
Floretta is wandering around tonight, maybe not alone, maybe accompanied, she saw movement by people, movement she doesn't like, so she's pursuing from a certain distance, just to see if she needs to intervene. She's in leather jacket, fashionably torn jeans, large sunglasses and has a large iced coffee in hand, sipping it slowly as she makes her way at a leisurely pace, looking over her shoulder from time to time.
Guy is walking the streets tonight in his usual attire, all black, biker and military surplus affects. He’s content to be avoided by most, keeping to himself on the street. When he hears a certain disturbance building, he veers that way, walking up to the doorway of the gate left open by the encroaching delinquents. For now he’s quiet, watching, and none of them have spotted him just yet.
Sheep's clothing and face of man if there's any perceptive powers on, I guess, otherwise, all of it is just her looking like a real alive person, but even winning cow for face of man wont reveal anything visible.
The slender woman lowers her head and puts her back into a corner, muttering, "I didn't want a hello. You should leave me alone. You'll be sorry if you don't." It's easy to mistake the flat delivery for bravado, and it's exactly what they do. "Don't be like that," one quips from the back. "Yeah, we're nice, you should be glad to talk to guys like us!" The one in back pulls the gate closed with a clang as the one in front reaches out to grab for the woman's chin, aiming to make her stop hiding behind her hair.
Which is approximately when the skinny little witch delivers a sucker punch that would put bareknuckle boxing to shame and sneds his skull bouncing off the wall, leaving him collapsed in a heap at her feet, unconscious and bleeding, but in the undignified, ass-whooped sense rather than the shattered bone, life-threatening way.
She lifts a hand and waggles a finger. Slower, slower... stops. One of them backs into the gate as she does. It should clang, clatter, rattle on its hinges.
It doesn't.
It doesn't move an inch.
The abrupt removal of their boldest as a threat leaves the other three leaking fear. Jackie absolutely drinks it down.
The raven perched atop the gate gives its wings a soft flap and protests with a rattling caw and then hops off its perch. With another couple of beats of its wings to slow it's fall and direct its momentum, it perches on top of the fallen man and hops over to stand on his hip, where it reaches into his back pocket and pulls his wallet out. Then it looks around, head turning with the sort of periodic, rapid jerking motion so common to birds. Which it does holding the man's wallet in its beak.
Floretta approaches the ruckus that she hears, looking through the gate, sniffing the air over her drink to detect the trace amount of blood in the air, she smirks, noticing the group she's been keeping an eye out for through the gate, nodding to Guy as she notice him. She crouches, noticing the raven playing with the wallet, her attention immediately drawn, she unleash the power of animalism to communicate with it. <<Need any help?>> she ask of the bird, sounding like a chirping bird.
Guy nods to Flo, tilting his head at the bird before looking to the throng now sizing up the woman in the alley. He tries the gate and frowns, sighing before hopping over it like it’s waist high instead. He pokes someone in the back of the neck, and they fall over, twitching and half conscious.
Guy is a known quantity. Floretta seems a known quantity to him. That makes her a seemingly safe observer, as she trusts Guy wouldn't simply permit some rando mortal to take a gander with that sort of familiarity. And the raven? Plucking out the wallet? Three possibilities occur in short succession, none of which are particularly threatening, so she lets it be.
"Oh, it's you!" Jackie remarks, shaking her head to toss her hair back and expose the thin scars along her face and throat as Guy is (to the perspective of the remaining two) suddenly in the alley. All the more delectable terror to drink. "These gentlemen were just telling me how fortunate I was, how grateful I should be, to chance to encounter such fine fellows as they." She explains simply, pulling a red bandana out of her little pocketbook to clean off her knuckles. "Do you or your friend have business with them? Or you?" She asks, looking down at the bird. "Apologies if I've interrupted."
A second flutter of wings, and another raven descends from the sky, making a little scree at the one with the wallet in its beak as it lands. Somehow, this raven seems to land extremely primly next to the first, and then pauses to fuss at its feathers, smoothing out the jet-black coverage on its belly after a little ruffling.
The first raven turns its head to peer at Floretta, then it caws back at her, but oddly doesn't seem to be understandable! That fact, in and of itself, probably said a fair bit about how natural a bird it is. That, and the fact that there's no rapid avian heartbeat coming from it, to the senses of kindred who are close enough to hear heartbeats. That raven drops the wallet on the ground next to the prone body, hops down, and flips it open before studying the contents for just a moment and beginning to pull things out. Drivers license. Cash.
"I was just trailing them to see if there was damage control to be done." Loud slurp from her iced coffee, a mild frown as she gets a sensation vaguely reminiscing her of brain freeze. "If you know him, I'm sure you know what you're doing." referring to Guy obviously, then looks down at the birds, tilting her head to the side. "Nice bird, where'd you get it?" Floretta asks, vaguely directed at the bird themselves.
“No business. Just heard some fools being fools.”
One of the men swings at Guy, who ignores the punch as it glances off his cheek, and grabs the man by the jaw. “Stop,” is all he says, in a tone that brooks no dissent. Especially combined with the fact the man can no longer move his head, physics be damned.
The other bird seems to content itself with grooming its feathers; it preens its wings rather than being fussed about anything around itself, really. But then the first raven is digging through a wallet, and it gets distracted from this vital task and goes on hop-hop-hopping over to the wallet, where it drags out a shiny credit card and waves it in the air once before dropping it and looking for another. It, too, has no heartbeat. Just shiny.
The second raven is strange as well, but somehow reassuring. It seemed to eliminate the sole concerning possibility. One could have been a Herald. A second suggested things less concerning. She has no worry for the cash or license yanked from the wallet. She has other things to concern herself with, like the panicked nearer of the two men going for what must seem like the easier target and doing his damnedest to put his fist into Jackie's teeth.
The skinny waif of a woman weaves back in a fluid duck down and around that would give The Greatest of All Time a run for his dempsey rollin' money and resolves with a rising clip to the jaw that melts the offending brute to the ground without so much as a how do you do. There is a line, and apparently trying to encroach on this woman's right to remain unmolested is on the other side of that unquestionably, unrepentantly violent divide.
"Now I do feel like I've interrupted," she remarks calmly, peering at the crows with no trace of effort or, even, concern for the bodies laid at her feet. They're alive, still, but consciousness will be some time in coming, and that feeling of invincibility may never return.
All the better.
"I appreciate the concern, especially as most in my position aren't lucky enough to be me," Jackie states simply. "Knowing there's others out there watching for such debased folx as these is heartening." She smiles, but it's a chilly one. It's not that she isn't well pleased, it's just hard to express herself beyond the mask of her own composure.
Between the fluid movements, that implacable mask of calm- if it wasn't for the complete and utter lack of a Beast, it'd be like looking at an Elder discussing matters over particularly rude dinner.
The first of the two ravens seems to decide what it wants, and piles the cash on top of the ID, then takes the whole small pile in its beak. It turns its head to look at the other, lets out a soft raveny sound. Then it flaps over to the person that Jackie just laid out and starts peeking around for another wallet.
Floretta laughs a little bit. "Alright, I've got to skedaddle for now, It'd be a pleasure to meet you all a bit later." Another loud slurp of her drink and she waves off Jackie, the birds and Guy as well, smiling their ways. "Happy to know people are looking out." (thanks for the rp, need to step away to prep for work)
Guy looks at the work wriggling at the end of his hook and puts him out of his misery...until he wakes up with a headache, anyway, flicking him in the temple with a resounding but survivable thunk.
He nods to Jackie. “Pleasant evening. I’m glad you were the one here, I...well, I would have done something foolish if I’d walked across this elsewhere.”
He looks to the two ravens. “Hmm. The new neighbors? This is Vorpal, she’s one of the other local night folk,” he says with a gesture.
Once the last of the assholes is reduced to a bruised, unconscious pulp, Jackie helps with the crow's search. The shadows of the alley slip into pockets, pull free wallets and set them helpfully on chests, making the job a bit easier- though they don't OPEN the wallets, so as to leave something for the crow to do itself.
"Vorpal, indeed, though Jackie is acceptable, if significantly less interesting. Miss Drexel, as well, if we're in need of polite public Mortal address, or if in less mundane company, I suppose something like Madamoiselle Ranger or That Witch Over There work fine, too. A pleasure, I'm sure." She's clever, but there's really no way to discern the identity of unfamiliar crows. She's no idea they've already met.
Once all of the combatants are unconscious, Raven 1 looks around, seems satisfied that there's nobody around to witness who shouldn't be there, and becomes Annikah. Her form just kind of flows from one to the next like that kind of fluidity is second nature, and her right hand comes up to take the bills and ID from between her lips. "Sup," she says. "We've met before." She slides the money and ID into the back pocket of her cutoff jeans, then starts plundering other wallets.
"Did you have any particular plans for these shitstains now that you've broken them? Or should we just toss them in that dumpster over there?" She jerks her head to point down the alley with her chin.
Bonk bonk tap tap shiny shiny... the second raven is having too much fun taking the cards out of the wallets, waving them around, and flinging them helter-skelter across the ground. Sometimes it's nice to be a little less... proper than usual. It stops once all of the cards and such are pulled out of the wallet and flung across the concrete, hops around once or twice and tips its head to one side as if assessing its artistic endeavors. Satisfied, it caws once, and flutters up to Annikah's shoulder to groom her hair.
Guy smiles softly as Annikah takes a human shape, and leans against the alley watch to watch the others. “I’m game for whatever.”
Annikah melting up out of the RAVEN is a pleasant surprise, and she arches her eyebrows faintly. That's as startled as she gets. "Nice to see you again, Miss Annikah. Is that one of your companions? Or a companion of the more natural variety?"
"Plans? Oh, heavens, no. Waking up in an alley with vague memories of some skinny little thing laying them all out without so much as laying a finger on her successfully not only devastates their sense of invincible entitlement- the more it happens, the more relieved they are to hear others experienced the same, and the more the story spreads that it's not safe to prey on this city's citizens. If you've some use for them besides as pig feed or some such, have at it- though I'd prefer them to survive, if it's all the same."(edited)
Annikah tilts her head to let her pink hair nuzzle against the raven on her shoulder for just a moment, then continues with her plunder. "I just figured I'd do a dine and dump. I will say, I didn't really get to have much fun with this particular scenario. Nobody even needed to be rescued." She shoves her purloined cash into a pocket, pauses to look at Jackie and Guy, and then asks, "do either of you know of a good advocacy group for victims of sexual violence here in the United States? I figure that's a good place to send this money."
The raven clicks happily a few times when the Gangrel nuzzles it, and ruffles its feathers in delight when Annikah mentions a dine-and-dump. It makes a popping sound in the back of its throat, and vocalizes yum, or something like it, two or three times. Still sounds just like a raven, but they do vocalize words now and again. A little contented warble, next.
Guy blinks. “Ah, no, not off the top of my head. I’d have to do research myself. But I’m sure there are shelters or charity groups in Philly that’d be good to help.”
He looks around, and picks one of the men to expose their wrist, preparing to drink, apparently.
Visigny's preferred method of hunting is getting mugged and teaching a lesson about why that's not something you should do. Mugging people, that is. So it shouldn't surprise anyone that knows him that he's strolling down the street quite casually, dressed to the nines in his leather long coat and tuxedo combo. Black tie, shoes whose shine you could do your hair in, and a metal capped cane that clicks as sharply as his metal shod ankle boots. The clicking of his walk draws attention. Which is the point.
But of course someone already had this idea, which he discovers upon strolling closer to the scene. Rather than involve himself, he doffs his cap to the group and puts his back to them, apparently standing watch while the others feed.
"I presume by which you mean snag a drink and leave the bottle to replenish itself in peace and stinky quiet?" Jackie asks with a glance at the dumpster, then shrugs. "Fine by me. I've had my fill, it'd be rude of me to object to you enjoying your own. I did find them passing a bar, however, in case their BAC has some impact on your decisions?"
"Like our friend says," she states, indicating Guy. "I typically donate the, ah. Proceeds. Discretely to local shelters. Organizations tend to be more easily corruptible the higher you climb, and if I find my donations here have been abused, it's far easier to find those responsible than trying to navigate a national corporation," offers the lanky Sprite.
The doffed cap of the Capitan earns a nod from Jackie as well, and a discerning eye turned towards the remaining raven. The prim one on landing, the one that holds the place of the third part of that trio. She suspects. She's not sure, but she's keener than mortals are capable of being. She suspects.
"By all means, enjoy. I've seen my share of blood and guts. A sip or two will hardly skeeve me."
"I don't know any local organizations either, but I'm sure I could find some." Annikah looks over when Visigny approaches, flashes him a smile, and then she leans down to grab the ankle of the unconscious man laying on the ground at her feet. As if she's picking up something no heavier than a trash bag full of packing peanuts, she lifts him off the ground and suspends him in the air. "Want a bite?" she asks Visigny.
The raven on Annikah's shoulder finishes preening herself and Annikah (as she has been fastidiously doing for several poses now), and when Visigny approaches, hops off of the Gangrel's shoulder and melts downward into a tiny, perfectly-dressed woman in very high-heeled boots. These are very stompy boots, this time, rather than stilettos, and the jeans she's wearing probably cost a grand, but at least she didn't pay a dime for the fantastic long leather coat. (It does cost less when you take the coats off of werewolf corpses.)
"Come and eat, my love," she croons delightedly, as if she's still warbling ravenishly.
Guy pauses at Jackie comment, and sniffs at the air deeply for a few moments. “All moderately intoxicated...habitual trace of marijuana...a couple with cocaine by-product, probably from a day or two ago...nothing that’ll be more than a tad more buzz, unless someone is particularly sensitive.”
He sinks fangs into the wrist he’s holding, drinking slowly.
Visigny glances back over his shoulder at the two women tempting him with an easy evening meal. "Cheries, pas devant les changelings." His voice carries just the subtlest hint of mirth, as though this were a very funny joke. It would have to be to break his deadpan.
He then makes a bit of a face at Guy's appraisal of the vintage. He waves a hand before his face, as though he were Tim Gunn and he'd just seen a mother in law's dress on a supermodel. "I can think of nothing more revolting than the blood of a coke fiend sweating off a rail the length of the Paris Metro." An apologetic smile to the ladies, then.
"He has put me off my sangre, mes petites."
"I'll share my favorites, to be sure," Jackie offers Annikah, pausing as she watches her lift the man as if he weighs nothing, notably- and positively!- impressed. And again when the second raven flows into Artje, leaving her smiling to herself. Smug as the cat in the cream, as much as she is delighted at Artje joie de vivre. And at Visigny's response? She doesn't know french, but almost the whole phrase is intelligible anyway- cheries a common word, pas from "je ne se pas" another colloquialism, and "les changelings"- well, of course she knows that bit. And with that tone? A crooningly gentle tease. "I could turn my back, if that'd make it any more proper~"
Guy's explanation of intoxicated consumption leaves her rubbing her chin. "Interesting to note! I'd have expected a more direct correlative effect on the drinker. Though as a consummate predator, a filtering of intake makes perfect sense..."
She has to cover her mouth to attempt- badly- to pretend she's not laughing with Visigny's description of the night's menu. "A shame- the very same makes their confusion and fright all the more delightful."
"Suit yourself, my delight," Annikah says with a shrug, and she grabs the front of the shirt of the person she's holding up by his ankle and uses the shirt and ankle to flip him around, so that his head is up. She presses him up against the wall and bites into the crook between his neck and shoulder. After a moment she stops and looks over her shoulder. "Sometimes I'm just in the mood for some junk food," she explains, before she resumes.
She pauses for a moment, there, as her obvious delight at the idea of sharing a meal fades when the vintage's contents get explained to her. "Oh, not in an alley," she murmurs softly. Artje contents herself -- for now -- with watching Annikah feed, though she does shift her shoulders within her leather coat.
Guy feeds for only a few short moments, licking the wound shut and then spitting on the ground in an almost ritual-appearing motion. He glances around the others, resting on Vorpal.
“Oh, I’m as drunk as he is know, my comment was on the things besides alcohol that might affect the experience. For those that didn’t twist my words in their ears, anyway.” He stands and stretches, purely as an affectation, shivering a little. “We all have opinions on feeding.”
"I will never dishonor the tricoleur by drinking rail in her colors, my darling and my light." Visigny's joshing is of a very particular sort, and might actually read as sharp and clipped ire if you don't know him quite well. He's seven kinds of uptight and wound up, and when coupled with him being dead? It can make him seem a bit standoffish.
But he does flutter his lashes as Annikah, and that does help somewhat to get the point across that there is at least something like flirting wrapped up in it all. "I'll find you an insurance salesman or something on the way home, ma lapine. Something bland to settle your stomach for tonight. We can be about the racks tomorrow night. Pick something fecund and full of itself and make a night of it."
The other two spectators to this are given an apologetic glance, "Forgive us. I would say we're not usually like this, but it would be the highest of fantasies and still not fit for the stage, if you follow." He daubs the corner of his mouth with his kerchief as he ... titters? A small laugh.
Annikah spends a little time enjoying a sample of the evening's fare, and then pulls back, licks her lips, and then hefts him onto her shoulder as she trudges over to the dumpster. She flips the plastic lid open, peeks inside to make sure it's not empty and she's not about to tip him on his head onto the bin's metal bottom or into a bunch of broken glass or something, and then she tosses him in and heads over for another would-be assailant.
"You know I have no culture or taste, except when it comes to my lovers," she says. "I'm not just uncouth, I'm negatively couth. An alley or a fancy restaurant, it's all the same to me. At least I can feed without getting my food all over my face, though."
She lets out a giggle. "Oh boy. That guy was thinker than I drunk he was."
Jackie laughs briefly, delighted at the term junk food in this context. "They are indeed a trashy treat," she agrees, glancing to Artje and pressing her lips together faintly before offering, "I'm sorry, that seems to have done for your appetite as well. I trust, though. you'll neither of you struggle to find a meal?" It's a question, but a statement of presumed competency as well.
"Well, to be fair, so do we. I'm sure there's those that find my method of replenishing myself rather barbaric, but I reserve it for the deserving," she adds to Guy's comment on opinions.
She looks to the Capitan as he titters to himself and cracks a smile. Her wit keeps up with him, at least. "What good company isn't wonderfully improper when circumstances permit? Propriety rests on the shoulders of those present, and if all agree a thing is acceptable, well." It must be. Society is, after all, an entirely arbitrary concept.
"You are not merely a pearl among swine, my dear, you are indeed a pearl endemic to swine; and a pearl nonetheless. And I am everso proud to drape you about my neck and show you off at parties-- to be clear, my dear, I am continuing and perchance torturing the pearl analogy, I in no way intend to wear you as a stole --but yes. Yes. I am, forgive the pun, sanguine to the reality that you will drink from the puddles. I shall watch your back diligently as you do so." Visigny nods, and resumes doing just that.
"There are worse things to twist in a man," Visigny muses apropos of something obviously.
"Oh, no, not for my appetite," she reassures Jackie, and she laughs brightly, her fangs flashing ever-so-briefly. "Just for my willingness to be the one who drinks at the moment." She wanders over to Visigny and drapes herself against him casually, leaning her head on his shoulder and watching Guy's feeding come to a close, and then her lover's dinner have its expected effect on her. "You see?"
"Mmm. It is true. There is a sort of gauche which goes so far into gauche that it wraps around again into being art, and that is where we find our Annikah."
Guy hums softly. “Still pretty nice, all things considered.” He cracks a little grin, mostly to himself.
“Propriety is quite subjective, it’s true. Part of finding your people is sharing that.”
"Maybe I won't have any more, I don't need to be falling over as I walk down the street," Annikah suggests as she makes her way over to another body, to heft him up and take him out like the trash he is. There's a bit of a thump and bang as he goes into the dumpster with his friend, and then she comes back brushing her hands together and grinning.
"You could wear me as a stole," she suggests to Visigny. "Just me, draped over your shoulders. Very fashionable. But generally, yeah... I just can't be bothered with propriety for the sake of propriety. When it matters, that's one thing. But here? In this alley? Irrelevant, if you ask me."
She looks at Jackie. "You're quite a fighter, by the way. Impressive. I'm not sure if I'm glad I don't have any reason to fight you, or disappointed."
"I have chosen a different path. I say we compare notes in fifty years and see who is bearing up to it all the better. A real self-criticism session with Artje standing as the tiebreaker in the tribunal. If my constant manners are losing ground to your practicality, I will have the proof of it and shall be compelled to adjust my conduct according to reason or, paradoxically, be no gentleman. But. If I have the right of, then you must likewise be compelled to adjust and join me for at least another fifty years to see if the way of Le Jumel can benefit even your blood."
Blood science flirting is a very specific but very really real form of flirting. Annikah is so seen. He extends his hand as though to shake on it, "On my blood and sacred honor," he pledges. He slips his other arm, cane in its hand, about Artje's waist. He looks so proud of himself.
"Confirmed irrelevant, as I've zero concern for propriety for its own sake myself. Consider the boundaries of propriety near me to be where you and yours draw them. I'll take no offense," Jackie affirms, before going to back to luxuriating in the delight with which the Frenchfolx and- Austrian?- enjoy their Annikah's lack of refinement.
"Ah! I see your point! Thank you for the clarification, Miss Artje, it's much appreciated," Jackie states, grateful. "And as for hypergauche... is this what they call cult classics in films?"
"I'd like to attend these sessions, if I could? Or at least receive notice of the results by post?" Jackie inquires, holding up a finger. That's a curious thing to say. Was she going to be around in a hundred years? She seemed to think so.
Guy picks up some gravel of the ground, and starts seeing how well pieces of it become finer gravel. It varies, it turns out, but some are pretty good at it, while the actually solid bits just crack or refuse to budge.
“50 years of round robin philosophy wrestling sounds...well, interesting, actually, though the exact subject matter isn’t my cup of tea.”
The Russian leans against the Frenchman and watches the Austrian. "You could be a cat, and then Jean-Louis could wear you around his shoulders, and then if someone got too close, you could be like that spider dress that enforces social boundaries," she offers with amusement and a feigned hiss, another little bare of her fangs. A wink aside for Jackie. "I must look after her or she'll get into too much trouble," she informs the Changeling. "Every time I leave her alone she gets into Big Trouble, you see."
Visigny's flirtation via blood science makes her eyes get real wide, and the compersion is written large but subtly across her expression. Aw, it's so cute!
"Hell no," Annikah answers with a wrinkled nose. "I don't want to change either you or myself in regards to our level of manners, so what you're describing seems like a lose-lose situation to me. No deal."
She snorts out loud and tells Artje, "I've never been in Big Trouble in my life. On the contrary, the Big Trouble is usually stuck dealing with me."
As she turns to look at Guy and Jackie her pierced lips form a smile. "It was nice running into you both, but I think our work here is done. Surely there's other mayhem waiting for us in the night. I'll see you both around, yeah?"
Jackie offered a smile!! "You shall, Miss Annikah- and if you ever want to try taking me on, I can make sure I wear something suitably tough enough to let you go hard without too terribly much concern for my safety. Plus, I can't imagine it will be all too horribly dangerous for you to take hits from me- as I understand it, you're not much worried by corporal damage on account of. Y'know. Being vitals impaired!"
“Have a good night, everyone, and see you around. Be well,” he says, nodding to everyone before heading out.
Visigny looks to Guy, offering him a shrug of his sloped byronic shoulders, "Well, at least you comprehend my genius, sir, and thank you." He does fall into step alongside Annikah, offering her his arm as though she hadn't just slammed the door in his face.
"How am I to better myself if not through application of reason? Hmm?" He lets out a maudlin little sigh and laments aside to nobody but has an Artje in the way by pure happenstance surely, "Maybe I'll find some barb with science kick and they'll do it. I thought it sounded fun." Oh, woe is the daeva.
"Remember me as I was," he offers to Jackie with a slight dip of the head, "not as she hath rendered me. But a sad and lowly creature." He's laying it on thick, and clearly knows it.
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