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It starts like this: Cian and Phaedra have arranged to meet; the front of Atalo's shop. And they're going to go a-walking. Phaedra's going to take pictures of things with her phone and miss things right in front of her nose, and Cian's going to be the perceptive one and probably be baffled by something Phaedra says, at some point. This is familiar. This is almost routine.
Cian's brought along a grease pencil (white) as well as a paint pen (black), to scrawl his own messages if need be.
Phaedra has a deck of tarot cards (Rider-Waite) in a bag, but she's actually, like. Practically dressed for once. Jeans, short-sleeved blouse, sensible walking shoes? Her hair is brushed and braided back. It's not her usual floaty hippie style at all, nor her work clothes; it almost seems entirely out of place on her. She's actually exiting Atalo's shop (from a scene earlier this morning), a thoughtful expression on her face.
Cian, meanwhile, is dressed in his usual loose shirt and tight pants - though the shirt is a slightly rougher, gray linen, and the pants dark jeans instead of warm toned trousers. Sturdy boots (and his leather suspenders, of course) complete the ensemble. A smile crosses his face as he sees her, and he raises a hand in greeting.
"Phaedra - you look..." He arches an eyebrow, though his smile stays. "You seem to have departed from your usual look for this evening."
"Someone was giving me advice a couple days ago. On dressing more...less young, trying to look older, to get taken more seriously." She shrugs. "It's a look, I suppose. Feels like almost as much of a costume as my work clothes. Anyway, pick a direction, or you'll be following me through town again on my ramble."
"I - mmm. I was about to say I don't mind following you in the least, but that's not the sort of thing an elder says to a neonate." He gives her a warm grin, before starting down the street to the left, gesturing with his head for her to follow.
"You're having trouble being taken seriously?"
She lets out a hint of a giggle, falling in beside Cian. "I mean, yes, a little? But I'm not sure that it's actually a function of how I look. The fishcourse got me some respect for my talents."
Sometimes the Cacophony is an important tool of vampire culture. Sometimes it almost seems like a frivolity. A place for people to do the kindred society equivalent of scraping a phone number into the wall of a bathroom stall, or sticking stickers for their favorite band onto the back of a sign at an intersection.
Occasionally there are moments when some aspect or another of those seemingly innocuous messages stands out and becomes something more. A couple of nights ago there was a message on one of the forums with the right sorts of keywords, a complaint about the city doing construction at night, and the constant sound of jackhammers. Now, a flyer stuck up on the side of a newspaper vending machine as they walk past:
"Who disturbs the peace of Faire Mount [sic] Park? I'm tired of your raucous doings!
I'm looking. I will find you.
I will shove your jackhammer up your ass and use it on you."
The bottom of the paper has been cut into a bunch of strips, like one of those "take a number" sorts when people are advertising and want phone calls, but they all just say FUCK YOU! on them
She leans in toward the poster, close enough to brush her nose against it briefly, before pulling back and taking a picture of it with her phone. "Sic means the misspelling is intentional, right?"
Cian tears off one of the Fuck You tabs and slides it into the back of his phone case. "Yes, it's often used when someone is quoting another piece of work and wants to preserve the original spelling. I wonder what after hours construction is happening in Fairmount Park..."
"Mmm, maybe we wander in that direction next? Could be interesting. Or boring. Or just loud and obnoxious and maybe we can meet him. He's someone else who's faking it, you know." She rocks up onto the balls of her feet, then back down again, before pulling a pen out of her bag and writing on the flyer: Is that a threat or a promise? Teasing the message sender gently for his helplessness in this situation.
"Faking it, how?" Cian's brow goes up again, and he lets out a huff of amusement at her message, and pulls out his grease pencil. "I wouldn't mind a wander toward the park," he says as he scrawls, a couple inches above the flyer: fake it 'til you make it, or until you burn out and can't live the lie anymore. That's what everyone else is doing
"He hasn't figured out the art of dressing for the job he wants. He's as uncomfortable in what he's trying to wear as I am right now. But I think for him it's a habit. Like...ugh, I don't think I know his name, but he's kind of a 'that guy', the sort who dresses like he oughta be a tech CEO or silicon valley entrepretainer, but he's really not pulling it off." She laughs, beginning to walk in the vague right direction.
It's a couple of miles to Fairmount Park, which is itself pretty huge, but there's not a ton of foot traffic at this hour of the night and it's not like vampires tend to get tired in the same way that people do. And a couple of miles isn't that bad a walk, either. Especially on a nice night!
Another huff of amusement. "He's a Ventrue, I wonder if he'll grow into it..." Cian keeps an ear on the rest of the cacophony around him, but is content to follow this particular melody all the way to the park.
Phaedra's fingers brush against Cian's sleeves a couple times as they walk. "That's possible. Hm, maybe it's a carousel."
As the two get near to the park another message pops up, written in a stylistic lettering that stands out. "CANCEL FIREWORKS" it says, with the first letter above and the second one below a fairly talented street art rendition of an exploding firework with a sloppy black X drawn over it.
When it becomes clear that it's probably not an accident that she's touching him, he glances over at her. His expression is quietly questioning, but he doesn't speak.
Phaedra pulls her hand back when he gives her that questioning look. "You know. Like...your mount at a faire. A carousel horse."
Which answers nothing. She pauses to look at the nice street art, though.
"This isn't the same person..." Cian brushes his hand across the paint with a small frown.
After a moment of going still--very, very still, Phaedra's not currently Blushed--she grabs Cian's sleeve and tugs in the direction of that brake squeal sound.
"...What?" Cian follows along without protest, still frowning.
"I heard something, but it wasn't fireworks or jackhammers, but it was something. I don't think it was a carousel either, though."
"Bad brakes?" Notably enough, now that Phaedra has actually grabbed Cian's sleeve, he doesn't try to tug away, even as he strides next to her. "I heard a squealing of something mechanical."
And so she tugs him along toward the sound, looking for anything that might sensibly have caused it, her big blue eyes wide.
"Whatever it may be, it seems purposeful...ah yes, and there it is again..." Cian's concerned look has faded to one of annoyance as they continue. "I wonder if it's related to the jackhammer or fireworks noise at all."
"Don't know. Let's find the source." She continues walking, sniffing the air (completely unnecessarily).
After a moment of sniffing, her nose wrinkles. "Something over there is going on. Or something's going on over there. Be ready for anything, okay?"
"Of course." Cian nods, and flexes his hands with a slight grimace. His fingers shift and lengthen, growing into claws that he stares at for a second before dropping his arms back to his sides. "Can you See anything going on, or will we just have to be surprised?"
As the two get closer to where the brake noise is coming from they can both hear the sound of someone yelling. It's the kind of yelling someone does when they're not really expecting to be heard, but the situation just calls for it. "Stop! You asshole, just stop the car!" The source isn't visible,
Then another round of horrible brake noise, followed by the sound of an engine as the car accelerates.
"None of us in the astral. No one obfuscated. No one's afraid, not really. That's about all I can tell you for sure, without getting a more specific target." Her voice is lower now, and she lets go of his sleeve completely.
"Mmm..." it's a low hum. Almost a growl, but certainly not directed at Phaedra as the two of them get closer to the car. Cian's steps quicken, too.
Phaedra gives Cian a sidelong look at the growl, her smile crooked. "Yeah?"
"What?" All of his attention seems to be focused ahead of him, but the way his eyebrow arches implies that he sees exactly how she's looking at him.
"If someone near the park is concerned about the noise level, they're certainly going to be irritated about this." As if that's enough of an explanation why he's gone a few steps more Savage than she's ever seen him go.
"It's nice to see you." As if that's an explanation of that smile. And then her attention returns to the problem at hand. Moving forward, onward, toward the ruckus.
When the pair round the corner there's an older car, like a mid-80s Honda, accelerating up the street and then hitting the brakes with a SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEE of metal when it gets to the end of the block. In the middle of the road is someone who looks a little bit scraped up, in knee length denim shorts and a black t-shirt, his hands on his head in a very "what the fuck do I do now" pose.
The car comes to a stop, u-turns in the intersection completely ignoring the light and drawing a honk from someone who was in the middle of trying to make a turn on their own green and almost hit them, and then comes back up the road toward the man and the vampires. Not aiming at anyone, just accelerating.
Phaedra looks up at Cian. "That's a spirit. Which might make this my problem to solve, more than yours, maybe."
Cian blinks toward the man, then Phaedra. "It very much might, yes." It's clearly an understatement. "I'll be here if anything goes wrong, but I don't know the first thing about spirits."
She thinks for a moment. And then she takes a further moment to take her shoes off, and then unbraid and fluff up her hair. Because if she's going to be the witch, she's going to be comfortable doing so. She's going to be herself, in all her glory. "Cian, if you could distract the witness, or get him to go away, that'd be helpful, I think."
And then she moves to the sidewalk. And yells as loud as she can, in a voice calculated to draw attention, her tone of voice obnoxiously shrill. "HEY FUCKWAD!"
Cian flinches when she yells, and sighs resignedly, like he's aware how much more difficult things are gonna get now that she's made herself difficult to be ignored.
The good news is that Phaedra gets the guy's attention. The bad news is that his attention means that's where he aims the car! There's now a car headed straight at Phaedra at like 30mph.
Well, 35 now.
Excellent. I mean, not excellent at all. But excellent. She stares into the headlights, standing her ground for the moment. Giving Cian time to try something.
The guy in the road is, for what it's worth still in the road, although when the car goes racing past him he starts walking in its direction. He seems weary, like this is not the first time the car has just gone back and forth past him. He also looks a little bit scraped up, not like he got hit or anything, but like he fell on the pavement.
Cian strides purposefully toward the car and crouches - though who's going to notice that? - raking his claws across one of the tires as it rolls past. The thing blows with a bang that might rival the noises that have so riled up the other Gangrels in the area, and air hisses out of the deep scratches that Cian's clawed into the rubber.
As the car skids out of control, Phaedra avoids being hit through some clever dodging (and indeed, some use of Celerity), before moving toward the car. "Bitch-ass motherfucker, I wanna talk for a second. I know a place that's even quieter, calmer, more orderly than this. The sort of place where everyone follows all the rules. A place that's in desperate need of some...mayhem."
The car isn't listening to Phaedra, it's busy skidding across the road and hitting a tree.
From up the block in the other direction comes the voice of the man in the road. "You crashed my fucking car!" As if the spirit driving the car didn't notice that.
Of course, the crashed car is just making horny noises (as in, someone is laying on the horn) and just sitting there, at the moment. Then it stops and the door opens and the spirit leans out, cups a hand around its hear, and says, "what was that?"
Phaedra leans in toward the spirit. "A community with an almighty leader in charge. Everyone obeys. Everything goes according to plan. No one dares break those rules, no one dares rebel. It is tidy and quiet and calm. And it is waiting for you. And I will tell you where it is, if you won't come back to this park." Her voice is low and almost seductive.
No one notices Cian shudder, crouched as he is near the car. Muscles pull and shift as mottled fur sprouts from his hands, chest. His face shrinks and lengthening into a snout, eyes turning beady and dark, and a growl erupts from his mouth as his body turns short and stocky. A barrel chested pit bull steps from around the car with another growl, showing his teeth at the man in the street. Not lunging yet, but moving forward with slow purpose.
The man in the street had started moving toward his wrecked car, but at the sight of the dog that comes from, as far as he can tell, nowhere at all, he looks a little confused and starts backing away. "Whoa, good dog. Everything's fine. Good boy." He doesn't seem to plan on leaving, he's still there, but he is keeping back from Cian the Dog, at least so far.
Meanwhile the spirit gets out of the car, moves forward to the hood, hops up on it, and then moves up to the top of the car, where it stands looking down at Phaedra. "Where is that place? I think that place sounds good. I do like scaring the fish here, though. People get mad when they're trying to enjoy the fish and I scare them."
He probably means the koi over in the Japanese garden nearby.
"How about a whole henhouse to spook? They make all sorts of noise when they think something might be coming after them, and they can't get out of the coop, and then people have to come running to try to calm them down...do it at the right hour of the night, and you make sure no one can sleep and panic everyone." She spreads her arms. "I think that's better than some silly fish, don't you?"
Cian creeps forward, that rumbling growl growing louder. A few feet away he lets out a loud bark, showing all his teeth.
The man whose car just crashed turns and runs when Cian advances, growling and barking. He looks back to make sure he's not being followed and stops when he gets to the corner, though if Cian starts moving toward him or pursues at all he disappears around the corner because he doesn't want to get fucked up by a dog.
"What's a henhouse?" the spirit on top of the car asks before it jumps into the air, pulls its knees up to its chest, and then slams its feet down on the top of the car's roof.
"Why, it's the sort of place a bunch of hens are kept. Have you never seen one? That's even more reason to want to see the place I'm talking about." She glances over her shoulder. "Isn't that right, Cian? Can you think of a place that needs a good shake-up more than my uncle's place? Where everyone is meek and mild and everything is rote and routine?"
Cian gives chase for just long enough to make the dude flee, letting out another few loud barks for good measure.
He may look a little pleased with himself as he trots back toward Phaedra and the spirit, and nods at her in a way that is decidedly not doglike.
The spirit stops jumping on the car like a kid jumping on a bed and looks at Phaedra. "That place sounds good, but I don't know what hens are. Are they thing things that go"
What follows is the sound of a jackhammer, as loud as a jackhammer, happening a few feet away on top of the car. This isn't really a problem, but it probably does hurt sensitive dog ears.
"Naw, they go..." And she proceeds to imitate a chicken, with flopping elbows and all.
Dog Cian skips away from the noise and lets out an irritated bork. Nothing so intimidating as the growling, and he gives the sprit a frown.
The spirit stops jackhammering and stops to look at Cian and Phaedra. "Hens sound isn't very good," he tells Phaedra. "The sound from the other thing is better." He points at the dog and mimics the annoyed bork, then tries the bark that Cian was making at the car's owner, which it repeats a few more times.
"So, do we have a deal? I tell you about this wonderfully calm place, and you leave this park be and go make your merry mayhem there?" She raises an eyebrow.
Hair sloughs away, muscles lengthen and shift, and a few seconds later it's a human - or human-looking, at least - Cian squatting on the ground in place of the pit bull.
"There's a calm place anywhere in this city?" He arches an eyebrow as he stands. "If there is one, it doesn't surprise me that you know about it."
"Oh, it's just outside the city. A farm." And she gives Cian a small smile. "The place I grew up."
"You saying things that are real?" the spirit asks suspiciously. "If you're not I'll come back and give you--" it looks down at the car and makes the jackhammer sound again, but louder, and this time it caves in the top of the car with a series of metallic clatterings, like someone is genuinely jackhammering the top of the car.
A few more lights come on across the way as people get fed up with all the noise and finally decide to get out of bed to figure out what's going on.
"I swear upon my Beast." She holds up a hand, in the scout's honor gesture, then holds it out to shake.
"Ah -" Cian nods at Phaedra. "Certainly a place worth shaking up, in that case."
The spirit has no idea what to do with a handshake, so it answers this gesture by holding its own hand out the same way, even if it's nowhere near Phaedra's. "I swear upon my Beast," it says. "Now let's go!"
"Bit far of a walk for me, but." She gives detailed directions on how to get to the farm, and suggestions for where to start messing with things.
"I think I might be able to do it, but that that sounds far," the spirit says after listening to the directions. "I should make sure I have enough energy for the trip, first. Will you help me get a little more, and then I'll go?"
With a primal roar, Phaedra pulls back her fist and slams it through a window with a sickeningly loud crunch of glass. "Is THIS FUCKING ENOUGH FOR YOU, FUCKWAD?!"
Cian jumps at Phaedra's unexpected rage, but just as quickly calms, his face splitting into a grin.
"...Nice to see you, too," he repeats her statement from earlier, and looks the spirit up and down to see how he - it? - has responded to the chaos.
The spirit responds by barking loudly? Sometimes spirits are strange. Then it looks at Cian and says, "you too! Make everyone mad!"
Cian howls - though in human form it's a little strained, a little underwhelming - and drags his claws down the side of the car, wincing himself as they make the sickening screech of nails on chalkboard. Not as impressive as Phaedra, surely, but every little bit helps, doesn't it?
The spirit shudders at that sound and makes a peculiarly soft version of the jackhammering sound, like it's responding to this new sound with joy, and then repeats the sound louder. A lot louder. Not hearing-damaging loud, but definitely annoying as hell.
Then it just says, "bye" and hops down off the car and starts running off into the night. Spirits are weird. As it goes it keeps barking, and finally someone leans out of a window down the block and yells, "SHUT THAT DOG THE FUCK UP!"
Phaedra grins at Cian. "Can I borrow your, uh. The white pencil thing you were writing with earlier?"
He pulls it out of his pocket to hand to her. "I was considering leaving a 'you're welcome' message, myself..."
She walks over to a nearby building, scrawling QUIET TIME IS NOW and then drawing the most basic stick-figure sheep by it--claiming responsibility for having ended that problem. "What's your tag? Sailboat?"
"It is now." He grins and nods. "A sheep for you? May I ask why?"
Starting in the distance (not from the direction of the spirit's departure) start coming the sounds of police sirens.
"Phaedra Lamb." She draws that childishly simple sailboat, and then tucks the pencil away. "You know...those claw marks might be, uh, a little bit of a problem to leave there."
She attempts to, like...kick the side of the car in, and just ends up looking kinda silly as she fails to do any real damage.
"You're right..." Cian winces as Phaedra bashes the side of the car. "I'm not entirely sure what to do about them. It might make it easier for the owner to claim he wasn't at fault for the accident?" The prospect doesn't seem to make him feel better.
There's a beat, and he huffs. "If we can make them look like they were made by something other than claws..." he's squinting at the car now.
Phaedra offers a couple of quiet suggestions, examining the marks.
Cian looks at his clawed hands, the marks, and then at the driver's seat, where the keys still sit in the ingnition. It doesn't take long for him to drag the keys down the car, on top of the claw marks. Then, he wipes the key on his sleeve to get as much of the chipped paint off as he can - because what sort of person crashes a car, and then keys it with its own keys? - before sticking them back in the ignition.
"I think we've worn out our welcome here..." He gestures to the sirens that grow louder with each passing second.
She nods, grabbing at his sleeve gently. "Back the way we came. I kinda wanna leave a note at the cancel fireworks sign, too."
"Yes - and with the flyer, as well." He glances down at that hand on his sleeve, and then back up at her, but doesn't comment, and starts to head back the way they game, tugging his arm to get her to follow along.
And she does, trotting alongside him, giggling. "Who knows if they'll actually be grateful, but we can call it community service, at least. Thank you for coming with me."
"I wouldn't have missed it. I enjoy this - spending time with you like this. Adding to the cacophony, getting into trouble." He steps sideways ever so slightly, nudging his arm against her shoulder.
She nudges back, like playing bumper cars, like passing a touch back and forth.
"Stick with me, Cian, we'll get in all the best troubles. It'll never-ever be boring."
At that, he turns his head to smile at her. "I don't doubt it - I look forward to more excitement."
And there's a look she gives him, like she's considering saying something more. But that's about when her lack of situational awareness catches up and she trips over a fire hydrant.
"Phae - " he doesn't finish her name to warn her before it happens, but he does reach a hand out to grab her arm to keep her from falling.
She barely manages to avoid pulling him over, but allows him to arright her, and then...doesn't pull her arm away. She's unblushed, her skin is cold against his. "Whoa, thank you."
"Always." He lets go slowly, confirming that she's uninjured (of course she is, why would that even be a question?) before he drops his hand. "Maybe next time I can warn you before you run into something."
"Oh, good luck with that. You'd be surprised how often I tumble into something or another." She laughs brightly. "Maybe we walk slower, though. Take in the sights."
"There are certainly many." It's the kind of thing someone might say while eyeing someone else, an obvious attempt at flirting, but Cian's gaze is focused on a small group of folx who have just stumbled out of a bar, smelling of alcohol and raucous in their enjoyment of the night.
If it is a flirtation, it goes right over her head. "Mmm. On a Tuesday night they're this drunk? They look like college students, hopefully none of them have morning classes."
"Most of them will muddle through, I'm sure, or sleep through the class. God knows I had many a late night in school, one gets used to it."
"Hm, once again, I wish I'd had that experience. Maybe once I get my GED, and I can take classes at the community college. Maybe." It's soft and wistful and heavy.
"I..." he pauses. "I tutored adults studying for the GED to assist in paying for university. I'm not sure how much has changed in the intervening years, but I could certainly alter our lessons with an eye to that." His voice is soft, like he's confessing. Which he is, in a way, isn't he? Another piece of his history that doesn't fit with the tale he's woven for everyone else.
She looks at him for a moment, then goes back to watching her step for a moment, letting those words hang in the air. "Sometimes it feels like putting together a puzzle. Sometimes it feels like you're doling out pieces of yourself, like scraps for the dog, making sure I don't run away with the whole steak. Just the gristle and fat."
"This piece is for practical reasons," Cian counters. "I don't know that I'll ever tell you everything. And if you're a good Shadow, you'll steal bits of meat without me noticing they're gone, anyway." He gives her a small smile.
"Steal? Maybe. But I'll keep them close and safe. Secrets, Cian--secrets are as much what I hunt as actual prey. But also...I like it. When I get to see you." That last sentence sounds almost like a confession of her own.
"Do you hunt secrets just for the knowing?"
Blushed as he is, his ears flush pink at her last confession.
"People here seem to like seeing me. I'm rather unused to it."
"Some for the knowing. Some for the hunting. A few for the having, because you're not wrong about secrets being a thing that can be used for leverage. Like, if I'd known the ban or bane of our spirit friend, that secret could have made that problem go away quicker." She shakes her head slightly.
"You seemed to manage quite well. I am woefully inept when it comes to spirits, I would not have had the success you did. I suspect you succeed in your hunts better than I do in mine, too. Secret hunting or otherwise."
"Yes, well. That's probably mostly because I choose my hunts to be things I'm good at. I don't go out looking for physical hunts, like someone like Atalo or Guy or someone. Besides, this might be practice for the next big circle ritual; we have a working planned with spirits, coming up."
A pause. "I'm a little nervous about it, honestly."
"Does this have to do with the lost library, or do you have multiple rituals in the near future?" Cian looks over at her.
"For what reasons are you nervous?"
"...it does have to do with the library. And I'm nervous because Mother Henevi's going to be there, but I'm going to have to be the one who does the talking." She wrinkles her nose. "I'm only so good at the talking."
"I don't suppose spirits are swayed by the sorts of readings you have a reputation of performing on people?" He's smiling now.
She huffs. "We're thinking of calling up a spirit of secrets. I may have to offer some in trade, for the information we seek. Don't worry, yours are off the table. I have others."
"Do...spirits tell other spirits the secrets they learn? Or other people?" Cian shifts a little uncomfortably. "I wonder if I've built enough around me to pique the interest of anything in Twilight." He doesn't sound particularly enthused by the possibility.
"Interesting question...not one I could answer without using a ritual to listen to what's going on around you in Twilight." She shakes her head slightly.
"I don't know that I have a real interest in knowing the answer, to be honest. I'll continue to content myself with the physical world while you make your forays into the ephemeral, I think."
She stops by the Cancel Fireworks sign, pulling the pencil out to write: CANCELLED. ok good talk. and this time she draws the stick-figure lamb riding the sailboat.
Cian opens his mouth to say something, but huffs in amusement first. "There are a few ways to interpret that, which was your intention?"
"That we did it together. This time I knew your sigil before drawing it. See, we're a team."
And then, about three seconds later. "Oh, fuck." As she clearly catches the most obvious interpretation.
"Mmm." Cian nods. "I don't suppose you have any rubbing alcohol? Alternatively, we turn it into something else. Or let those who listen to the cacophony think we're fucking."
"I mean, those who know me already know I don't do the fucking. Ever." She offers him the pencil, to see if he can make it any better.
"Fair enough. Those who thought they knew me might have said the same thing, in Boston. And they'd have mostly been correct." Another tidbit as he considers the doodle. "Is it a function of your previous life?" A beat, and he winces. "That's a horribly personal question to ask, I apologize." He seems sincere enough.
"One of the many reasons my uncle deserves every bit of the mayhem coming to him. And more, much more than even that spirit will give him." She, too, looks at the doodle. Not at him, certainly not at him.
"He does." Cian's voice is quiet, but firm, and he pulls his phone out, searching for something.
"There are a multitude of flowers that can signify friendship. Perhaps..." He starts to draw, using his phone as a reference. A solid subject change.
"Might be a little, uh...esoteric? Honestly, I'm not that fussed about it. People will assume what they assume. Those who know better will know better." A pause. "Unless it'd tarnish your reputation as an elder?"
"Heh. Elders have relations with neonates without tarnishing their reputations all the time." Cian finishes one flower to avoid anything too unfinshed looking.
"It may have to do with the lack of reputation of said elder. I wouldn't know."
"Or it may be that it reflects more on the neonate, as they have less of a reputation built up. I don't know." She shrugs. "I don't even know how it is most people see me, what kind of reputation I've built. I should probably care more."
"I don't know that it matters much, here, I don't think reputations are ruined or built like that." Cian shrugs. "What would you like your reputation to be?"
She considers the question quietly. "Someone who doesn't hold anything back."
"From the things I've heard, you're already building the reputation you want." A smile, and Cian leans over to nudge her again.
She nudges back, before turning to walk toward where the flyer had been, their last stop of the night before they part ways.
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