“How flattering for you,” he said, and met those silver eyes over a close-lipped smile. He’d thought, at first, that the stranger was trying to be subtle – slipping through the market like a shadow, wings tucked to sides. But even clothed in black, how subtle could such a tall, striking man be? He seemed designed to warn danger, even with the kind of elegance Acton was not built to manage.
Maybe he was right. The buckskin could feel his own curiosity sharpening, a knife on a whetstone.
Acton flicked an ear at the man’s laughter, but he rolled a burnished shoulder in a shrug, too. He had no reason to think the stranger was lying, except that he knew a lot of liars.
Also, it was disappointing to think there was nothing more to the man’s perusal of the marketplace than a simple shopping trip. It would be a shame to think he was wrong in this, that he’d set his hopes for the evening too high.
He didn’t blink at the foreigner comment; that was a given. While not a native himself, Acton had been baptized into Denoctian life, and it was part of his business to note the presence of notable strangers. “They’re very good at getting what they want from outsiders, here,” he agreed, and followed the man out into the street.
Once they did, the buckskin cast his glance away, over the sea of figures, glimmering fish on a cobblestone river. He tried to guess what the stranger might be after – a new cloak, or one of the gypsy’s medicine-pouches that were supposed to bring luck or ward away evil.
But at the word weapons, his gaze swung around to meet that grin, those eyes, and Acton could feel something in him spark back to life. His answering smile is more like a secret.
“I have several friends who would caution me against arming a foreigner. Luckily for you, those friends can be insufferably boring.” He thought, once, of Raum, and wondered what the Ghost was doing tonight. Probably he was tailing Acton the same way the buckskin had this stranger. The thought made his smile grow to a grin, and he licked his teeth and started off, though he was quick to glance over his shoulder. “Give me your name, and they’ll be less inclined to worry. Mine’s Acton.”
@Caine
whatever you feed me I'll feed you right back
