"Well," Alastor laughed, "You don't give me much choice, do you?" It was fair to say that he'd been so distracted by his own thoughts that he forgot the game was still afoot, but even if he hadn't, Lotte was so quick to jump in line, it didn't matter, either way.
That, likewise, told him something about her. She craved the answers she asked for, to get ahead of him with so little regard for what his reaction might be. For all she knew, he might have balked, might have bit at her for breaking the rules. And that told Alastor something else - Lotte wasn't afraid of him.
In one, fluid motion, he stepped, traveling farther than the length of his stride should have taken him, until he was nearly right up against her, just a few inches from her body, and bending slightly at the waist, to hover above Lotte's face. His lips were closed, but still smiling, and he blinked at her a few times in quick succession, her face blurring between blinks as he looked down his nose at her. And there, from that uncomfortably close vantage point, he laughed again, a sharp and well-enunciated HA-HA that seemed less to come from Alastor himself, as from the static around him.
"I should certainly enjoy your company!" he said, "A man is not limited to any one such mode of transportation, but I dare say it would be all the easier and more pleasant with you!" And that, without revealing much of the nature of the situation, was true. There were things Alastor could do, if he tried, to increase the odds that he would be seen, felt, pulled to a summoning in New Orleans. But even if he was, and even when he had been, it was one thing to see the inside of a house, feel the breath of the damp air, and be barred from going far enough to touch it. It would be another thing to go and be free. And since he wasn't, he didn't try. Witnessing it through a distance, unable to step foot on the streets, unable to breath the air outside the stagnant pool of the incense smoke of the summoning circle, was torture.
He straightened up, his spine cracking like a whip. "If you must know," he confessed, "being all powerful isn't all it's cracked up to be, you know?" One clawed hand raised, and he examined his nails, turning his hand over in the moonlight. His fist curled in again, his gaze flicking back to Lotte. "I can do whatever I want, but I can't go where I please. Can you imagine that? Of course you can. It's what they did to you. So tell me, this is my question - if you could take pity on the victim of a plight such as your own, would you?"
no subject
"Well," Alastor laughed, "You don't give me much choice, do you?" It was fair to say that he'd been so distracted by his own thoughts that he forgot the game was still afoot, but even if he hadn't, Lotte was so quick to jump in line, it didn't matter, either way.
That, likewise, told him something about her. She craved the answers she asked for, to get ahead of him with so little regard for what his reaction might be. For all she knew, he might have balked, might have bit at her for breaking the rules. And that told Alastor something else - Lotte wasn't afraid of him.
In one, fluid motion, he stepped, traveling farther than the length of his stride should have taken him, until he was nearly right up against her, just a few inches from her body, and bending slightly at the waist, to hover above Lotte's face. His lips were closed, but still smiling, and he blinked at her a few times in quick succession, her face blurring between blinks as he looked down his nose at her. And there, from that uncomfortably close vantage point, he laughed again, a sharp and well-enunciated HA-HA that seemed less to come from Alastor himself, as from the static around him.
"I should certainly enjoy your company!" he said, "A man is not limited to any one such mode of transportation, but I dare say it would be all the easier and more pleasant with you!" And that, without revealing much of the nature of the situation, was true. There were things Alastor could do, if he tried, to increase the odds that he would be seen, felt, pulled to a summoning in New Orleans. But even if he was, and even when he had been, it was one thing to see the inside of a house, feel the breath of the damp air, and be barred from going far enough to touch it. It would be another thing to go and be free. And since he wasn't, he didn't try. Witnessing it through a distance, unable to step foot on the streets, unable to breath the air outside the stagnant pool of the incense smoke of the summoning circle, was torture.
He straightened up, his spine cracking like a whip. "If you must know," he confessed, "being all powerful isn't all it's cracked up to be, you know?" One clawed hand raised, and he examined his nails, turning his hand over in the moonlight. His fist curled in again, his gaze flicking back to Lotte. "I can do whatever I want, but I can't go where I please. Can you imagine that? Of course you can. It's what they did to you. So tell me, this is my question - if you could take pity on the victim of a plight such as your own, would you?"