[Indigo]

It was much too late for anyone reasonable to be out and about—maybe at home the streets would be full, but this was Nabias, and people didn't tend to stay out late. The ones that did were just the ones she was looking for, dangerous and sharp-edged, likely to leap out at an undefended female without thinking of any consequences. She'd met them before, and they didn't last long.

She had her staff with her, too, so she'd make short work of any attackers; she hated carrying it in her mouth like a dog, but Gallagher had been too busy to join her tonight, and anyway, the taste of wood helped mask the blood on her teeth. Some of it was hers this time. She'd been careless, let herself get into one fight too many, and the trouble with prizefighting was that there were still a few rules, so she couldn't fight back the way she wanted to.

Oh, well. She'd show him next time.

Now it was much later than she usually went home, and if that creep eyeing her from across the street actually made a move she'd be even later. Transportation was hard to come by this time of night. Maybe when she got back she could get Gallagher to make dinner or something—robots didn't sleep, after all, and wasn't that what she had him for?—and she'd practice a few moves for the next time she came out here, and go to bed. It didn't seem worth going home at this hour, but she'd slept in Nabias before, and it was nowhere near comfortable enough for her. Luxury was important after an event like this one.

That creep had started moving toward her, and not slowly, either. At least something was going well tonight.

[Palenski]

The cafe that Jack was sitting in was small, mellow, and nearly empty--just the way he liked it. He sat in a corner by the window, hunched over a mug of syrupy coffee, ignoring the world around him. No one in this cafe particularly interested him, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing; sometimes it was nice to just curl up into himself, lose all responsibility.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something.

He was always noticing things, which was somewhat annoying but he had learned to just go with it long ago. Outside on the street, a gruff looking man was crossing the street toward a female lucain, bad intent written all over his face. That wasn't the sort of thing Jack would expect to see in Nabias; it was usually such a calm, nice place.

He would hate for that to change.

He stood from his table, dropping a handful of keystones next to his mostly empty mug. He patted his pockets, making sure his little book was still there, and then stepped out of the cafe. He was thankful for the darkness outside--he didn't want to draw attention to himself. At least, not yet.

[Indigo]

The guy was still almost half a block away, so she ignored him for now, pretended she hadn't seen him coming. It was so nice to surprise them. The staff might get in the way this time—she'd have to react quickly, no time for fancy twirling and batting around a stick with her paws—but for now she still carried it, just in case. Someone had once told her it would be more useful if she were human-shaped, but she hated the thought of being something so essentially defenseless.

Now she heard footsteps behind her and to the left, not quite a run; almost time. Who knew what this guy wanted—she didn’t care very much, and she wouldn't exactly be leaving him in a position to explain himself, if things went her way. And she was used to getting her way.

She felt his hand on one of her tails—disgusting, who knew what dirt could be on him, and what did he think he was doing touching her anyway? Was he trying to get her attention? Well, in that he had been successful, at least. His fingers closed and she spun, shifting the staff in her mouth as well as she could, smacking him hard in the side of the head. She hit him again for good measure, then tossed the staff aside and stepped back, watching him. He'd moved away from her and was rubbing his head, but he looked angry, not scared, and not about to run. Probably drunk, but she didn't much care about that either.

She snarled, and waited. Not a good idea to attack first in this town; the police might get involved.

[Palenski]

Jack shrank farther into shadow, patient and silent. He fingered the book in his pocket, watching the scene with that familiar edge of curiosity. Not for the man--he seemed dull, average, another angry drunk with intoxicated logic. But the lucain, who was clearly experienced in combat by the looks of things, seemed interesting. Maybe he'd write about her.

He eyed the staff that she had tossed aside, wondering if it had any magical properties, if she was magical in any way. He also wondered, absentmindedly, if it was an antique. It didn't particularly look like an antique, but Jack liked old things, and if something was old it just made it all the better. And so he wondered.

He turned back to watch the man, who was a tad unsteady on his feet. Nearly certainly drunk, unless she'd hit him hard enough to upset his equilibrium. This ought to be amusing.

[Indigo]

Maybe he'd gotten smart and would run away—no, here he came, all fists and incoherent yelling. That was helpful, since it was clear now that she was fighting in self-defense, and the police would be on her side. It just wouldn't do to be imprisoned for assault; inconvenient and demeaning all at once. They probably wouldn't let her keep the staff, either, and she liked that thing.

The guy managed to land a punch, which almost made her laugh. What kind of idiot punched a Lucain? She snapped at his hand, left gouges in his fingers, not too deep but certainly bad enough to bleed, and maybe deter him. He was shouting again, though. Okay. Time to finish up, then, before people started opening windows and making a fuss.

He was far enough away for her to leap on him, pinning him to the ground, claws digging into his chest and teeth bared inches from his nose. He stared up at her with real fear in his eyes as she casually opened a wound in his side—not a big one, since she had no interest in killing him, or in making a mess of her fur. She just wanted him to know she'd won.

She left a few claw marks on his cheek for good measure, then jumped back and watched him run. That had felt good.

She licked the drunk's blood off her teeth—disgusting, unrefined, but she didn't want to get it on her staff, and she couldn't exactly go into that café and ask for some water in this state. Then she picked up the staff and continued down the street.

[Palenski]

Jack watched the beaten fool escape, and then moved to follow as the lucain picked up her staff and continued her way down the street. He was generally noiseless in daily life, but now, when he was trying, he was nearly completely mute. It helped that he was wearing soft-soled shoes and had practiced walking in shadows before. This wasn't the first time he'd followed someone out of curiosity.

He didn't follow people a lot. He could safely say that he had followed less than twenty people since he'd become an adult nine years ago. He had them all written down in his little book. The first had been a Ferrikoon with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder; his most recent had been a Suncheeka with two strange boxes. And now this lucain, another of his kind (though he often took on his human form).

A part of him hoped his suit wouldn't give him away.

[Indigo]

As she walked her ears swiveled, hunting for any sound that might be someone following her in the darkness, some unseen watcher being careless with his steps. She hoped what she'd done to the drunk had been warning enough to anyone who might try to attack her. While she had come to this town looking for a fight, she'd had enough of unnecessary beatings today, and if anyone else came after her she would be very displeased. And then she might get blood on her fur, which she absolutely hated—it was a sign that she'd been fighting, it was disgusting, and it meant that she had lost her composure more than usual.

This time it wasn't a sound that alerted her, though, just that creeping feeling of someone standing behind you. Perhaps not a terribly reliable sense, but she was well-practiced at knowing when she was being stalked. As a rich woman she would be useful for ransom money, and as a fighter she was almost a sure thing in certain parts of the more figurative underworld. She glanced behind her, just for a second, made it look routine and unconcerned, and continued walking without speeding up at all.

Oh, she'd seen him, though. Funny guy. Thought he could hide in that ridiculous getup. She wondered who had made such a tacky suit, who had been willing to inflict it on the general public. She wondered, too, why this man was following her; he was fairly close, so must have seen what she'd done to the last person who'd crossed her. She slowed her steps considerably. Maybe he'd take the opportunity to catch up, and she'd have him.

[Palenski]

Jack didn't miss the glance, and he certainly didn't miss the way she suddenly slowed down. He slowed down as well, trying to match her pace though probably not succeeding. He had followed people before, yes, but never had they quite caught on so quickly. Perhaps she was dangerous. How...fascinating.

If she decided he was a threat he obviously stood no chance against her. He would have to make it clear, somehow, that he was not a threat. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

He pressed himself against a nearby wall as he slowly creeped along. He almost laughed--he'd never resorted to actually stalking before, only harmless following. But this was different. She could murder him if she wanted to. He had to be careful.

[Indigo]

She still couldn't hear footsteps, but she didn't think he'd just go away; when he failed to catch up to her after several minutes she turned to check again. Yes, there he was, and he'd slowed down, too—now he was trying some absurd strategy for not being seen, even though everyone who knew anything knew that creeping around was the most conspicuous thing you could do. She rolled her eyes, and turned around fully.

She walked up to him without any hesitation, leaving hardly any space between them—still room for him to escape to either side, if he was invested in keeping his miserable hide intact. She snarled through the staff, then spit it out, using one paw to keep it from rolling away. "What the hell do you want, creep?" she spat. She really didn't want to deal with this, just wanted to go home. Hopefully he'd get the hint and clear out.

[Palenski]

That was definitely blood he smelled on her breath. Part of him wanted to scramble away, find a nice dark corner somewhere and hide there until morning. The other part of him, strangely, wanted to laugh. It was the suit. If only he didn't wear the suit. But he couldn't not wear the suit, could he?

"Erm, hello," he said, voice strained slightly as he shrank back against the wall, eyes somewhat wide. Well, here was the bridge, time to cross it. "I'm not a threat," he blurted, and immediately felt foolish. He was not used to being the intimidated one. "I was only curious, really."

She was definitely going in his book, if he could survive long enough to get her name.

[Indigo]

"Curious?" Her tails lashed. "Oh, yes, that's very funny. People who are curious don't follow other people around, and if they do, they certainly don't try to hide when they're noticed."

This was going well, she thought. He looked scared, ready to run, and he was trying to keep her from attacking him, though his excuses were really pitiful. What kind of person came right out and said they weren't a threat, as if stating it directly somehow made it more believable? She might give him a whack or two with the staff before letting him go, just because he was so stupid. She leaned back just slightly, not enough to be easily noticeable; didn’t want to touch him by accident.

"Look, you poorly-dressed loser," she continued, "I don't really care why you've decided to follow me this evening." It wasn't evening anymore, but it was important to sound impressive. "I don't especially want another fight. So why don't you and your terrible fashion sense get out of here before I have to do something you'll regret?"

She was definitely getting Gallagher to make her dinner after this. Maybe hot chocolate. Something to be a sharp contrast to this place.

[Palenski]

This really wasn't going the way he'd wanted it to. His mouth opened and closed a few times, mind reeling, and finally, after a mess of thought, he said, "What's your name?"

Oh, yes, she'd respond well to that.

Very few people saw this side of him. He was always calm and collected, sometimes cold, and sometimes he terrified people just by looking at them. He'd never intentionally harmed anyone, but he had learned, over the years, how to scare the living hell out of someone if he really wanted to. And now here he was, practically feeble, trying not to be killed while also, at the same time, stupidly letting his mouth run, asking questions.

Usually when he asked questions he got direct, short responses, perfect for putting in his book. He had no idea the kind of answers this lucain would give him. Perhaps she would respond better if he were in his lucain form? But it was so much easier to write with human hands...oh, bother.

[Indigo]

Really? Really?

"I've changed my mind," she said, abruptly stepping back. "You're not stupid. You're delusional." Of course, it was also incredibly stupid to ask the name of someone who'd just threatened you, but he'd probably seen what she'd done to that drunk. Nobody was that stupid. The only solution was that he thought she couldn't help but be charmed by him, or something equally indicative of mental incompetence. "And you're not worth my time." Common as mud as well, most likely, which didn't make her any more inclined to talk to him.

She picked up the staff in her teeth again and started to walk away. No point staying here any longer. Sooner or later someone would go to the police, and then she'd have her work cut out for her. She could run pretty fast, but she was nowhere as good at that as she was at fighting, and getting into a brawl with the police was...inadvisable.

[Palenski]

"But you're interesting!" he called out without thinking. He clapped a hand over his mouth, surprised with himself. He couldn't remember the last time he'd told one of his subjects that they were interesting. This was going so well.

Dammit, Jack, stop being an idiot.

He went to move after her, and then thought better of it. He didn't want to end up a dark red smudge on the side of the road. He cleared his throat. "Honestly, I just," he took the book out of his pocket, "can I just have your name?"

He stumbled forward a bit, away from the wall, and flipped to a blank page. He patted around in his pockets until he found a small nubby pencil; it would do. His mouth started babbling. "I'll leave you alone, I promise, I just, what's your birthday? Do you have any mental illnesses? I don't mean to be rude, I'm terribly sorry..."

Goddammit, Jack, get a hold of yourself!

[Indigo]

The man was clearly crazy. Mental illnesses? He didn't mean to be rude? And she didn't want to spend too much time around someone like that. After all, her reputation would probably suffer, and any minute his filthy hands might be all over her fur—no telling what he was going to do next, since he clearly had not even the most basic of survival instincts. He thought she was "interesting", and who knew what nonsense that could lead to?

And he had a book he was going to write this information in. Hey, was he an undercover cop? Not that this would matter too much, since her last actions had been obvious self-defense and she hadn't even really maimed the guy, and as for the prizefighting, that wasn't strictly speaking illegal. And she was sure she could buy off anyone trying to arrest her. People were so willing to do what she said when they learned of her circumstances.

Whatever he really wanted, she supposed it couldn't be too harmful to give him her name. "My name's Avida," she said. "What is that book for, anyway? Are you using it to stalk people?"