(closes his eyes, no remark for "bossy" or "rude." if the shoe fits, man.)
Stiles. My name is Hei. (with a raise of his shoulder to avoid stiles as he staggers, finding any potential contact unappealing. his attention falls to his benefactor's legs, monitoring his walk until satisfied he won't be roaming into his personal space.) And that was divination; aren't you familiar with this place's schools of magic?
My setup may be a crock, but my ability isn't. Like I said, it's guesswork. Of sorts.
[ Amazingly, he manages to restrain himself from making a “hay is for horses” joke. ]
I know the different schools of magic. [ In fact, he’s made a point to try and sit in on at least one class a week at the Coven, just to understand what Witches are capable of. ] But when you said that fortune is just guesswork, I figured you weren’t actually putting any real effort into it.
[ There’s a food stall up ahead that he makes a beeline for, though a line of three people means they’re in for a short wait. Sidling around the queue, he deposits the bowl on the counter and then rejoins Hei at the back of the line. ]
Okay, so. What does your divination magic tell you about a person when you do your gig and how do you translate that into a fortune?
That was a mistake. Guessing takes as much skill as knowing, maybe more. (he's not one to brag, so he offers his understanding of things which sounds awfully similar.) Our conclusions are always based off of something.
(hei is alone for a moment as stiles returns the bowl and takes this time to look around. the city is small compared to the ones he's lived in and visited, old-fashioned buildings with open-minded people. it's a strange quality. stiles seems well-versed in the goings-on, but his curiosity is already a thorn beginning to fester. it'll have to be shut down.
when stiles returns, hei is quick to raise a dismissive hand and steps forward to avoid a large minotaur-like creature crossing through gaps in their line.) That's not for you to know. You can accept the fortune I have for you, or forget we met. It's your decision to make. (his attention trails after the beast, mind clearly fighting his acceptance of it.)
[ While he returns the bowl, he mulls over what the man said. “That was a mistake.” See, he can’t help but reflect on the fact that most people would have corrected the misunderstanding without further pointing it out. Hei apparently has no such qualms; it seems like a significant example of the personality Stiles is dealing with here. Upon returning to the end of the line, he unthinkingly heeds the hand and stops short of where he intended. Though it becomes obvious that Hei isn’t accustomed to seeing creatures like the Monster, Stiles has to grumpily admit that the young man is handling the culture shock relatively well. ]
I guess the meat’s just another decision I’ll have to make, [ comes the sarcastic response, paired with an eye roll. ] For you? Let’s say mystery meat.
[ As tempting as it would be to order a mince pie with mystery meat for this guy, who rubs Stiles wrong in every direction, he’s not actually annoyed enough to do so. Yet. Beef is the kinder option. ]
It isn't. You can leave me to make the choice for myself; just foot the bill.
(look, he hasn't spoken to a human being who doesn't want to see his head mounted on their wall in weeks. so if his manners are poor, then there's a reason for it.
hei steps up when the witchy woman in front of them busies herself with her order, eavesdropping on the toppings she's smooth-talking out of the stall owner who seems rather smitten with his regular customer. clever girl. two helpings of mince pie sound better than one, but he lacks the feminine wiles—instead, his arm opens to invite stiles to deal with him and watches them be served like a hawk.)
[ The balls on this guy… Mouth pressed in a flat, unimpressed line, Stiles glances askance at Hei. ]
Okay, let me make sure I’m getting this right. You refuse to explain how your divination magic works and basically tell me to take it or leave it, then turn around and make demands about what food I buy you with my own money while expecting me to tell you what kind of Monster I am.
[ Chewing a wad of tobacco slowly like a cow with cud, the stall owner watches them in curious silence. His previous customer, the smooth-talking woman, is also doing a poor job at hiding the fact that she’s listening in. Stiles ignores them. ]
(side-eyes stiles as he sums up the past few minutes, but most of what he hears is a muted droning. distantly, hei wonders what language he's speaking. he seems american, of course that's a default assumption he tends to make; he could be european.
not much to go on.
he's turned sometime during stiles' final words, but his response is incredibly delayed. this makes his gaze linger, silence pervasive in a line that's begun muttering at the hold up, more than a few seconds before it drops and angles away.)
Yeah, you got it... is there some kind of problem here, or should I order?
[ The pregnant pause that follows his summary – with Hei staring at him like an absolute creep – has Stiles reaching an abrupt, final conclusion. Something is off about this guy; do not interact. For once in his life, common sense wins over curiosity. He wordlessly turns away from the young man to address the food stall owner, ordering a mince pie with beef. After paying for the pie, he gestures for Hei to approach the stall counter and wait for it to be prepared. ]
Enjoy.
[ The word is uttered with flat disinterest, his only farewell as Stiles exits the line and begins walking in the direction opposite of the fortune teller booth. Talking to Hei has left him feeling crabby and unsettled. The less time spent in the other man’s presence, the better. He should be sleeping at this hour anyway. And so, Stiles determines to do just as Hei suggested: forget they met. ]
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no subject
(closes his eyes, no remark for "bossy" or "rude." if the shoe fits, man.)
Stiles. My name is Hei. (with a raise of his shoulder to avoid stiles as he staggers, finding any potential contact unappealing. his attention falls to his benefactor's legs, monitoring his walk until satisfied he won't be roaming into his personal space.) And that was divination; aren't you familiar with this place's schools of magic?
My setup may be a crock, but my ability isn't. Like I said, it's guesswork. Of sorts.
no subject
I know the different schools of magic. [ In fact, he’s made a point to try and sit in on at least one class a week at the Coven, just to understand what Witches are capable of. ] But when you said that fortune is just guesswork, I figured you weren’t actually putting any real effort into it.
[ There’s a food stall up ahead that he makes a beeline for, though a line of three people means they’re in for a short wait. Sidling around the queue, he deposits the bowl on the counter and then rejoins Hei at the back of the line. ]
Okay, so. What does your divination magic tell you about a person when you do your gig and how do you translate that into a fortune?
no subject
(hei is alone for a moment as stiles returns the bowl and takes this time to look around. the city is small compared to the ones he's lived in and visited, old-fashioned buildings with open-minded people. it's a strange quality. stiles seems well-versed in the goings-on, but his curiosity is already a thorn beginning to fester. it'll have to be shut down.
when stiles returns, hei is quick to raise a dismissive hand and steps forward to avoid a large minotaur-like creature crossing through gaps in their line.) That's not for you to know. You can accept the fortune I have for you, or forget we met. It's your decision to make. (his attention trails after the beast, mind clearly fighting his acceptance of it.)
... what meat is in the mince pies?
no subject
I guess the meat’s just another decision I’ll have to make, [ comes the sarcastic response, paired with an eye roll. ] For you? Let’s say mystery meat.
[ As tempting as it would be to order a mince pie with mystery meat for this guy, who rubs Stiles wrong in every direction, he’s not actually annoyed enough to do so. Yet. Beef is the kinder option. ]
no subject
(look, he hasn't spoken to a human being who doesn't want to see his head mounted on their wall in weeks. so if his manners are poor, then there's a reason for it.
hei steps up when the witchy woman in front of them busies herself with her order, eavesdropping on the toppings she's smooth-talking out of the stall owner who seems rather smitten with his regular customer. clever girl. two helpings of mince pie sound better than one, but he lacks the feminine wiles—instead, his arm opens to invite stiles to deal with him and watches them be served like a hawk.)
What sort of creature will you be, then?
no subject
Okay, let me make sure I’m getting this right. You refuse to explain how your divination magic works and basically tell me to take it or leave it, then turn around and make demands about what food I buy you with my own money while expecting me to tell you what kind of Monster I am.
[ Chewing a wad of tobacco slowly like a cow with cud, the stall owner watches them in curious silence. His previous customer, the smooth-talking woman, is also doing a poor job at hiding the fact that she’s listening in. Stiles ignores them. ]
no subject
not much to go on.
he's turned sometime during stiles' final words, but his response is incredibly delayed. this makes his gaze linger, silence pervasive in a line that's begun muttering at the hold up, more than a few seconds before it drops and angles away.)
Yeah, you got it... is there some kind of problem here, or should I order?
no subject
Enjoy.
[ The word is uttered with flat disinterest, his only farewell as Stiles exits the line and begins walking in the direction opposite of the fortune teller booth. Talking to Hei has left him feeling crabby and unsettled. The less time spent in the other man’s presence, the better. He should be sleeping at this hour anyway. And so, Stiles determines to do just as Hei suggested: forget they met. ]