If these things were his own to touch, Alastor would have gathered them all up, left nothing pertinent of himself behind. But if Lotte wished to do so, that was her business. He preferred this level of mystery to her, this unfathomable bit that he couldn't decipher, this odd lack of pride in her work, even when it was successful.
Perhaps he seemed more complicated, more valuable to her, than the work she'd done to protect this town. Or maybe it was only that she viewed him as the one thing she'd done for herself. A pity. Alastor itched to tell her that she could have done so much more here, if only she'd wanted it.
"Oh, they don't hold with that." The ripples of laughter kept bubbling up from him, fueled by the dizzying combination of frayed nerves, whiskey, and mania. "Plants want your light," he said, more reasonably, smoke curling from his mouth after a drag on his cigarette. "They're tetchy things, can't be reasoned with. Like you!"
His eyes sparkled; they might have spun, if he was in his right form. A wave of static rolled through his shadow, an echo of his own laughter. "I jest," he said quickly, a wave of his hand through the little smoke cloud lingering about him, before she could protest. "I should so love to see you threaten some wanton ne'er-do-well. That's no joke." If she thought he was lively with laughter now, it would be nothing compared to the sound he would make if some fool did chance across them while Lotte was armed.
no subject
If these things were his own to touch, Alastor would have gathered them all up, left nothing pertinent of himself behind. But if Lotte wished to do so, that was her business. He preferred this level of mystery to her, this unfathomable bit that he couldn't decipher, this odd lack of pride in her work, even when it was successful.
Perhaps he seemed more complicated, more valuable to her, than the work she'd done to protect this town. Or maybe it was only that she viewed him as the one thing she'd done for herself. A pity. Alastor itched to tell her that she could have done so much more here, if only she'd wanted it.
"Oh, they don't hold with that." The ripples of laughter kept bubbling up from him, fueled by the dizzying combination of frayed nerves, whiskey, and mania. "Plants want your light," he said, more reasonably, smoke curling from his mouth after a drag on his cigarette. "They're tetchy things, can't be reasoned with. Like you!"
His eyes sparkled; they might have spun, if he was in his right form. A wave of static rolled through his shadow, an echo of his own laughter. "I jest," he said quickly, a wave of his hand through the little smoke cloud lingering about him, before she could protest. "I should so love to see you threaten some wanton ne'er-do-well. That's no joke." If she thought he was lively with laughter now, it would be nothing compared to the sound he would make if some fool did chance across them while Lotte was armed.