More Than Meets The Eye

The night is, perhaps, the more interesting time of the day. For the morning, afternoon and anything between you can usually take a lucky guess at what will happen. Nine times out of ten, a day will continue as normal. Nine time out of ten, one person will meet another. Form a bond. Become friends. Nine times out of ten, it's usually the same, dull thing. Bar that one point where the unexpected becomes a reality and wrecks havoc, the day is usually free of such chaos. A calm time of day. A time where you can usually consider yourself safe from the dangers that dwell in the shadows.

But the night is a different story. Each night speaks a different tale, strums a different tune. The darkness that cascades across the land may be a comforting blanket to some, and a cold embrace of death to others. Honestly, it just depended on where you went and who you knew and came across. The night was a time that was taken advantage of by many, for good and for ill. Pray you don't end up on the bad site of fate. In the city of Station Square, in a city that had seen many things and had risen and fallen with the passing ages, perhaps in its own twisted way that the unexpected had become expected. That a day without death was something of a surprise. It was a wonder why people were still living here.

Stars in the sky and the moon reflecting light upon the empty streets; alleyways silent and not a sound nor a peep. Bar one, of course. Swinging a key around his grey finger, the goat demon known as Gueton Versil wandered the empty (or what looked to be empty, anyway) streets, exiting from an alleyway with a cheery whistle from his lips. He was a wonderfully dressed man - clothes more suited for a ballroom dance, he adorned a red jacket and equally red trousers with the occasional tint of orange. Smart black shoes that clacked quietly with each step he took, and his bleach-white hair cut short to the base of his jaw. Out of that smart hair was a pair of orange horns, curled up and down yet sharp enough to impale if not for the odd shape, and a black crown atop his head. A man that flowed with the very essence of charisma, and a man seemed to be able to get anything from anyone with a simple charming glance.

Clack clack went his footsteps. That key still spinning steadily around his finger. This evening felt good, which was something of a blessing considering his paranoia recently. A paranoia that something was going to go wrong for him and the people he cared about. But he was free from those chains of impending disaster today, or at least he hoped. There was nothing but the sweet silence and the evening sky above him, and that was too a blessing. What would the night bring? Well, only time could tell that.

Ebony stretched over the once cerulean sky, casting a shadow over the city known as Station Square. Street lights broken and dead, shards glittering, reflecting the canopy above like that of an ocean under sunlight. Buildings were dead. Streets and pavements cracked as dry, desolate dirt. Indeed, it was not the classiest of cities. In fact, it was probably one of the worst on Mobius. Such low security and high measures of crime. It was a festering wound of criminals plotting their next strike. Yet the calm of darkness and hum of silence hid that tonight. Perhaps even the crime was asleep.

Amber Wolfe was not, however. The persimmon wolf perched atop a shop's roof, one long, slender leg crossed over the other, draped over with loose-cut black pants that had a white accent. Her brown scarf worn up over her muzzle, amber orbs hidden behind white lids. The black and maroon top she wore did little to cover her white underbelly and persimmon back. So did the maroon arm guards. Yet she did not need the warmth, despite the chill of the cool night, for the wolf's nerves were dead. She did not feel hot nor cold. Smooth nor rough. Not even pain.

Leaning onto the wall that guarded one side of the roof (why only one side, she had no idea), she imagined warmth inside the cover of the shadow that concealed her. The coolness of the concrete... The roughness of the grit she sat upon... A sudden click, click, click of a shoe's heel caused her ears, which were a darker shade of persimmon, to stand straight up on her head, twitching slightly. She moved her shaggy tail, shifting her stance to a crouch. Her bangs swept over her forehead, her low ponytail brushing against her shoulder, and she watched a goat dressed in a suit (a very fancy suit indeed) approach.

Admittedly the paranoia of the future and what was to come was a little silly - he was a man of logic and reasoning after all. But it was mobian to have doubts, to have these thoughts spiraling in his head, and it was no fault of his that he felt this way. But with what disasters he had faced, and with this awful silence of peace (which, while he should be grateful for, only made him more worried), it made a man on edge. Yet like I said, today seemed to be a good one. It was that instinct, just a niggling in the back of the head, cooing that perhaps the anticipated disaster wouldn't be today. And his shoulders relaxed, and his eyes less rigid, and a light whistle continued to flow through his lips.

A whistle that stopped abruptly as his steps since, for a second, he thought he saw something in the corner of his vision. While it came off as no surprise that there would be others within the streets, with this time of day he couldn't tell if they meant good or bad. Not like he was worried if he were to encounter anyone, he had the skills to get himself away if a kerfuffle were to happen, but if there was something then his curiosity was eating away at him. 

He narrowed his white eyes and scanned the buildings, checking the alleyways aside them first, the windows second, and the roof last. Nope, nope, and a shadow leaning upon the rooftop. There they are. His first thought was to wonder how they weren't falling off and landing flat on their face - they must have pretty strong grips on their heels. He squinted and frowned, making out the distinct features. Wasn't that the quiet lady he met yesterday...? "Ah, hello?" he called out, and honestly if they didn't reply it would only confirm his suspicion.

A whistle emitted from the goat, whom upon closer inspection was familiar to her, and cut through the crisp air. It pierced through her ears and she winced, shaking her head slightly. Having sensitive ears helped her profession, yet her ears were oversensitive. And the smallest, sharpest sounds hurt. As much as a needle being stuck in your ear. Amber sank into her scar, crouching down lower to in order to hide away, yet she felt the goat's gaze lock to her form. 'Caught.' She mentally cursed, brows furrowing somewhat. Had this been a mission, guns would have been fired, and she would be dodging and running for her life. But then again, she had not been trying to hide herself. The wolf merely decided she did not want to go home to her apartment in Mobotropolis that day, and drifted away on buses and trains. Ended up there. 

Her amber eyes, though half-lidded, glinted in the darkness. Glowing like stars and a field of golden wheat. Her ears were soothed when his voice glided toward them, dancing around, comforting the ring his whistle left. It was enchanting really. Despite only meeting once before, she had grown to liked it. For a long while she merely gazed at him, the only thing visible of her being her silhouette, and her glowing amber eyes. Slowly shifted once again, Amber hopped up into the air, flipping gracefully and landing before him without sound. Almost as if it were muted. Bringing herself up to a tall stand, she watched him cautiously, silent as ever, and merely giving a court nod in response.

He had blinked, and no later than a second passing did she appear before him in a graceful acrobatic feat that made his eyebrow raise. While he was a dexterous man, he had not yet learnt the ability to do such moves with such confidence without tripping and falling onto your rear end. It was quite remarkable that the woman before him possessed the ability to do such a thing without a moment's hesitation, without a blink or a thought, it was practically in-built and it did make him feel a slight pang of jealousy which he quickly dismissed.

"Ah, I thought it was you, Madame Amber!" Gueton chuckled quietly in that sweet tone of voice,careful not to raise it too high to possibly attract unwanted attention, "Are you out for an evening walk? It certainly is a nice night to clear the head, is it not?" The corners of his lips twitched into a smirk, "I do hope all has been well for you since the last time we met." Conversations were always his strong point. Even when one was mute, it was possible to pull a conversation out of them with a gentle smile and a smooth voice to ensure no harm was meant. After all, meeting people and making allies was his expertise. The woman seemed nice enough, if a bit cold occasionally (and rightfully so) but that wasn't something he couldn't deal with.

Another nod was once again given to him. Less stiffly this time. Her eyes scanning him up and down, she though hard about what she wanted to say. 'Why should I say anything?' Her mind scolded almost instantly. So instead, she slunk back, shrinking into the shadow of a broken street light. She cast her gaze to the ground, suddenly her posture became much less than proud. Ears sagging somewhat on her head, she stuffed her hands into her pocket. No. Not because of the biting chill of the night. It was for her habit. When she had absolutely no idea what to do or how to act, but didn't want to be rude. As far as her manners go. 

So the wolf stood there in the darkness, her eyes cast to the side to gaze upon a crack, a prominent one with a small seedling growing from it. So instead, she crouched down, once again without sound, and touched the little seedling, though she felt no texture, no heat of the green sprout. Her finger caressed its tiny leaves with the utmost of caution. It brought warmth to her heart, though not any kind of heat, and made her smile softly behind her scarf. For a moment she almost forgot Gueton was there. However, her over-excitement made the heat rise, not that she realized it, and caused the delicate green seedling to shrivel. Her eyes widen in surprise and instead the temperature dropped, frost and ice covering the little sprout instantly.

Amber jumped back, her movements muted as ever, and moved further into the shadows. Yet her eyes glowed, and they revealed much alarm. Much shock. Almost guilt. But after she shut her eyes, squeezing them together, all the emotions were gone. And her amber orbs were merely empty shells once again.

The lack of response and the complete disregard for his existence in favour of a tiny plant made his ear twitch like a fly was buzzing against it, and as she examined the little bud that had crawled to the surface, his lips formed a hesitant frown and his eyes reflected that of insecurity before he pushed it away with a forced smile in a matter of a few seconds. He was never one to lose his confidence around people, and especially a lady, after all. Even if their very behavior raked at his weaknesses with clawed hands. The forced nature of his expression melted to that of sincerity as he knelt down to pluck the frosted bud between his fingertips, his head turning to face hers.

"A wonderful thing, nature," the demon muttered, but audible enough for his voice to reach her ears (not like she had any trouble with that, of course). The thumb of his finger pushed against the leaf of the shriveled plant, the gentle push with addition to the vicious frost causing it to break and fall to the ground with no difficulty, "It's able to adapt, you see. In this world of monsters and magic, of powers and wars, nature still managed to thrive and exists in a world so destructive. It will always grow back, you know. The forest, the flowers, they always bounce back no matter what happens. Perhaps a reflection of ourselves," he placed it within the crack from once it bloomed and stood upright, "That we too can adapt and endure what the world throws at us, if only to make us better. ...Ah, forgive me, I'm dreadfully sorry. I'm a fan of monologues."

In all her silence and hiding amongst the shadows, Amber listened. She had never been one for speaking, thus all her life she listened. Gained knowledge, found secrets. It was not that she ignored him on purpose. She had a pride, and that pride strictly prevented her from making a fool of herself in front of people. Thus a diversion of attention was always the activity she resorted to when there was nothing else to be done. By her limits, of course. However, she allowed his voice, monologuing on about nature, to fill her ears, envelope her and once again pretend that the air was warm around him. She even closed her eyes.

But then Gueton finished, and all her fantasies of feeling and warmth vanished along with his voice. She opened her eyes again, irises glowing in the near pitch black of the poorly lit street, and she locked eyes with him. "...Lovely." Her voice was a hush, almost a gush of a breeze that blew by gentle wind chimes. She held eye contact for another minute before casting her gaze to the side once again. However, she held up her hands, both of them, and began signing.

From the last time she met, she realized her voice would not be an accommodative communication tool, and she noticed how talkative the goat was and how no matter what, he'd follow her anywhere. But the most important thing she noticed was the energy coming off him. Though she lost her ability of touch, she could still sense these things. And she did not want trouble from him. So just in case she encountered him again, or someone like him at least, she picked up some sign language. "You don't have to apologize." She signed.

Amber understanding how to speak the language of silence, the language without words, was a nice little surprise to see. She was no speaker, and he respected that, but knowing sign language made everything so much easier than interpreting body actions and reactions. Little blessings, little blessings. What pleased him too was that the wolf before him seemed to enjoy his little ramblings, closing her autumn eyes and listening to the sound of his voice. Admittedly, it made him miss teaching just a little bit.

"Ah, even so! I do tend to babble quite a lot, you see. I suppose that comes from giving speeches in lecture halls," the goat chuckled warmly, adjusting the white cravat correctly around his neck, "Feel free to stop me if I ever talk too much for your liking - I won't take offence." He checked the streets, back and forth, wondering if anyone else was going to show up. But with the continued silence hanging thick in the air bar their conversation, he had his doubts if another would. It seemed today was a dead night. 

He slipped his key into his pocket, patting the fabric of his rich crimson jacket. The last thing he wanted to do was be locked out of his own apartment if he ever lost the little thing. Turning his attention to the autumn wolf, he motioned with a hand towards the barren streets, "Do you fancy joining me on my evening walk?" Gueton asked, "If you're not busy, of course. I'm just a man who prefers company."

Ah, his voice. It was probably the only voice she actually wanted to hear in the entire world. He was different. Pleasant to her oversensitive ears, and comforted them. It was a nice contrast to the everyday sounds in her life. The screams, the alarms, the silence. She’d lived with it for so long, it became the only things she knew. Sad, really. Now that she thought about it.
 
Eyes falling upon the key he spun around on his finger, she absently wondered what it was for. His house, most likely. It made her wonder about her own apartment. Had everything stayed as spic and span as she left it? Doubtable. Things just seemed determined to turn themselves into messes. Just like living beings. Or perhaps she was just too much of a neat-freak. However, upon hearing his offer, her eyes widened somewhat in surprise, and she paused. She'd never gone on a stroll before. She didn't even know what one was supposed to do on one. She supposed there was that one time he'd strolled with her to the tea shop. If you could even call it that. It was more like her trying to get away from him. So this was, technically, something she's never done before.
 
It surprised her how she was even considering it, when on normal occasions she would’ve declined as soon as the question is asked and walk away. Gueton was just different, she supposed. He had somehow struck a connection to her, and it was difficult to ignore. He had an odd charm that was rarely possessed by most. ‘Maybe it’s his coat.’ She mused, yet she signed to him, “Not busy. Not used to company either. Are you sure?”

The surprise in her eyes, like he had something of great shock and concern, was what confirmed his decision to allow her to walk with him. He was going to allow it anyway, of course he was, but she acted like company was not what she knew and she had been alone since she practically left the womb. While being alone was all fine and well (everyone had preferences, after all), everyone needed someone to lean on at some point in their lives. Loneliness can pull at the strings of the heart something nasty, it can make the brain twist and become foul from the lack of support from others. He'd seen it before. Seen it many times. And the last thing he wanted to know was hear that this young wolf was becoming a twisted, bitter person of herself. That sort of thing made monsters.

"I am entirely sure on your company," he replied with a steady smirk and a warm gaze, "After all, that's why I asked in the first place." Gueton offered a hand to her, hoping she would take it and join him. Where they'd go, he had no idea. Maybe do a few laps around the park area and 'talk' for a short while. He'd ask her. See what she wanted to do, "Is there anywhere you fancy going in this city that strikes your fancy, Madame Amber?"

However, when he extended his hand, the persimmon wolf backed up frantically from him, eyes wide and the temperature dropping. Her ears standing straight on her head in alarm, she gazed at the hand almost in confusion. In all her life, she had never received such a gesture and frankly it was alien to her. She looked to him and his hand back and forth, as if questioning what he was doing.

Yet, then came the memory of children holding hands with their mothers. Hands being offered to those who had fallen down. It was a positive gesture. Right? So hesitantly, she too outstretched her hand, her fingers brushing against his palm in an unsure and confused manner. Not that she felt it. But she remembered when she once could. Gently touches as delicate as butterfly wings. Soothing, gentle. Occasionally playful. All merely distant memory now. She remembered how scared she had been, to suddenly lose all the feeling on her body. To grasp things yet not feel it's heat, it's density, it's texture. To fall down and feel no pain. Oh, how she cried. She'd cried for a long time.

This nostalgia showed on her face however. Her eyes becoming distant, and pain becoming clear in her expression as she stared at the fingers touching his palm.

"A sign of offering," he replied to a question that was never asked yet lingered in the air. Her inability to feel, to be robbed of something most basic but most key to mobians, was a tragic thing. The emotion within her reflective autumn eyes was more than enough to reveal her hardships and pain. From her surprise, her hesitancy, and her distant gazing upon the simplest of touch, perhaps this was something she had barely a chance to experience throughout her young life, "Offering yourself to another's company. To show a link and acceptance of another. A simple action, but actions do always say more than words, after all. A smile can mean a thousand words and tears speak years of tales."

He arched his fingers up slowly, leaning against her own upon his palm, "A touch speaks many things. One as simple as this shows a sign of trust. Of friendship. As I consider you a friend, and thus I accept and allow your company intertwined with mine. If you consider me a friend in equal turn is entirely up to you, and I shall not take offence to the answer you decide to give yourself."

His words were beautiful, and she'd rarely ever heard anyone say anything close to it's beauty to her. Especially not to her. Most words she received were swears, rough, and rude. Often with as little words as possible. Maybe that was where she got it. However, she found herself once again closing her eyes just to listen, unaware of his palm curling around her's. How could she? Such a touch was lost to her. And when he finished, she opened her eyes and found herself holding his hand. The sight was terrifying yet intriguing. She couldn't remember the last time her hand was held. In the orphanage perhaps? When the caretakers helped her walk for the very first time?

Eyelids fluttering, her lips twitched into the smallest of smiles behind her scarf, and for the first time ever, her eyes glimmered with the emotion of happiness.

In the end, a little kindness went a long way. To dismiss someone without giving them a chance, without putting the effort in to help them is wasted happiness and a chance to help people be better than what they are. It was his reasoning that a person should never be cast aside, that everyone should be given a chance to make them be a more 'whole' person. To create a bond of friendship and to harden the trust between people. If everyone just offered a bit more kindness, the world would be a better place and less people would be broken souls wandering the streets. Making the world a better place may be impossible alone, but to help others through their struggles and their pain, and to see the expression upon her face as a smile spread upon the wolf's lips, was something worth fighting for. After all, if he had not tried to initiate conversation when they first met, if he had not gave her his time, that happiness would be lost and would have yet to be and the world would remain a cruel and unforgiving place.

He always had a way with words. From his studies and his experiences, it was something to say he greatly excelled at. Getting on the good side of people was admittedly a bit of an obsession with him. He liked to consider himself a good person and liked other people to confirm his thoughts for him. It was a selfish reason, yes, but it did not lessen his emotions towards people nor was it the only reason why he strived to help those in need. And as of right now, the autumn wolf before him needed his assistance greatly.

"The world is a cold place. I'm sure you know that more than I do certainly," he sighed, "Yet you and I, yet anyone we come across, has the potential to make it warmer. Everyone has this potential, no matter how insignificant one seems to think they are. We all contain the ability to melt frigid hearts and hold close what is already thawed. On bitter nights, when the snow falls and the air is as thick as ice itself, there will always be someone offering a a warm bed and a fire to rest by.  And in that same sense, there will always be a friend to allow a sharing of hardships when things are at their worst," he paused in his speech and smirked slightly, a light laugh escaping his lips as he added; "I must say, your little smile is certainly thawing my own cold night tonight. Seeing that has made my day!"

The hand being held felt stiff to her. She was not used to the restraint of another hand wrapped around her's. Yet it was a nice kind of stiff, and pleasant kind of restraint. As Gueton rambled on with his speech, her ears readily caught every word, somehow delivering them to her mangled, dark heart. And made it better. She wondered why, oh how she wondered. 

She wondered if what he said were really true. Especially for someone like her. If such a beautiful world could exist or has existed for others. Amber was unarmed that night, she brought no weapons nor even the smallest knife. And standing before him at that moment, she felt completely, utterly helpless. As if he had came in and stripped her completely of all her defenses. Her silence, her coldness, it had all melted away and she didn't know where it went. She didn't know if it would come back. And she was scared. So using her free hand, she lift her scarf to cover her muzzle once again, hiding the smile that was fading as quickly as a star in day.

Amber pulled her hand back, not from discomfort, but to sign. "I wish there were more people in this world like you. People who help, who care, who understand. I wish I could live in this dream you've told me. But I know that it will never be true for me. You can melt hearts, and give hope. And there are many who deserve your words more than I. Especially not I. All I know how to do is take, hurt, and make the world a worse place to be in. I am the person whom if they disappeared one day, would have no one to miss, no one to miss them, and no one to remember them. The kind of person whom, if they died... People would cheer for their departure. I do not deserve such kindness in all honesty."

Her eyes stung. The familiar feeling of sadness weighting on her chest. Yet she turned, shrugged off the words she communicated, the whirlpool of emotions she felt as if they were gnats carried by the wind. She turned back to him and signed once again, "We should find a coffee shop. If the night is too cold for you."

"I would notice," the goat stated with a firm and sure expression plastered across his face, a slight yet worried scowl, "I certainly would. I am worried for you, like I have said, and I know that, again, that is an odd thing to say considering we met not long ago, but you deserve better than what you have received in life. A lot of people do. You do deserve a chance. You do deserve compassion, understanding, another to help you." He paused for a moment, then sighed, an inquisitive stare cast her way as she left questions in his head not yet answered, "What makes you think this way? I have seen a lot of things, I have seen people hurt and kill and do terrible, foul things for the sake of their own twisted satisfaction. You, from what I have seen of you, seem to be a young lady in an unfortunate circumstance. Is there more to you? Ah, but I suppose it is not my place to ask. But I must say, I will not judge you."

Perhaps she didn't want to talk about this. And he was curious, so terribly curious and it niggled at his head to ask more and find out things he didn't know, the last thing he wanted to do was offend her or make her uncomfortable. If she wanted the subject dropped, perhaps it was best to do so before she decided to stop speaking to him altogether and, gods forbid, hate him. "Would it be open during this time?" he inquired, "It is rather late into the night. Have they not all closed?"

Amber remained in still silence, allowing his words to pass through her ears, for once, unheard. The moment he started inquiring back, the moment his first question reached her, she stopped. Her steps were long and urgent, yet silent and light. Her tail swayed behind her as the cold evening breeze carried her scarf. Her hands once again back inside her pockets, she left his questions unanswered, and instead looked around to find a cafe. Surely there had to be one shop open... Amber heaved a silent sigh, feeling a dull ache in her chest. Gueton's words seem to have sunk deeply into her, and from her furrowed brows, it was clear that she was wondering the same thing. She had not lived as long as he had, and the time she had lived went by so quickly. Almost a blur. In truth, she didn't know anything but her own name. She barely knew herself at all. 

Ears sagged on her head, the wolf trudged on. Her scarf slipped down from her muzzle, yet she was too deep in thought to notice. Not that she could. How would she feel the sudden breeze of cold against her nose and lips? Brushing her against her fur and cheeks. She just needed distance. She'd communicated enough to last her another lifetime. A light at the end of the street caught her atttention; a local cafe. There we go...

The silence was a paragraph of answers, if not an essay. It was a touchy subject, and he wouldn't pry any further than he had. That was rude. After all, there was always more opportunities in the future to amend this and maybe get this lone wolf to break open her shell just a little more. Help her smile a little more. Everyone needed help at least once in their lives, and it appeared her time was coming close to that moment if not already. And he wasn't going to give up. He was, however, going to be a lot more careful with what words left his mouth.

"I really am surprised it's open," Gueton remarked in surprise, removing the black crown atop his head to rub and clean it against his jacket while he walked, "They wouldn't get much business during this hour, that's for sure." he arched his head up at an angle, white eyes squinting at the window to determine if other mobians were inhabiting the little establishment. There were barely any, if one or two. Perhaps just poor souls who couldn't yet sleep, or didn't even have a home to begin with. Everyone had a story, and they were no different. He was no different. People were incredibly alike if you looked hard enough at the similarities than differences between them.

"Do you fancy joining me for a drink once more?" he asked softly, a light frown tugging at his lips at the same expression on hers, if not more heavy, "As you know, I'm a sucker for company."

His last question sounded silly to her. Almost causing her to chuckle. Yet she only turned her head slightly, eyes falling on his and locking its gaze. There was a glint of amusement in it, almost a silent, indirect smile. She pulled her hands from her pocket and signed to him, "Why else would I still be here?" She seemed to have finished signing when she added suddenly, "Silly." 

As quickly as she looked at him, she looked away again. A soft sigh of relief left her once she noticed the small amount of people in the cafe. The odds seem to be with her that night.

He smiled at that last comment, which no later broke into a hefty grin as he replied; "Ah yes, I suppose I am a very silly man." The amusement and the flip of emotion within her was a good start. He had to be careful with his words around her, she seemed to variate between various levels of sadness and very rarely happiness. the last thing he wanted to do was trigger the sad to creep back up onto her face again. The smile was a blessing.

"Shall we?" Gueton stretched out a hand and opened the door with a slight creak, what very few people within did turn their heads for a brief moment out of curiosity, yet quickly resumed to their nighttime business. He rubbed his eyes a little, adjusting himself to the light of the little coffee shop before taking a seat near the back, flashing a smile at the mobian at the counter. No doubt the back would be preferred - it was nicely isolated, and the store itself was quiet bar the occasional sound of another sipping their beverage.

Amber stared at the open door as if it were a portal to outer space. Hesitantly moving one foot forward, she placed her first step inside with a slight 'tap'; the loudest she's ever been. Ears perking up, almost surprised at the sound, she quickly moved inside, weaving between tables effortlessly with a certain finesse. She reached Gueton in no time at all.

Lifting her scarf over her muzzle instinct, she picked a chair and sat down, surprised at the creak her chair emitted. And then her eyes locked with Gueton's once again. There was a curious glint in her eye, very unlike its usual dull glow, as if asking what to do next. They'd been in a tea shop last time, and he'd gone to get their tea. Was this any different? Or was it her turn to do so? Or would a waiter come and serve them? Or...

So many questions churned in her head, yet none came out.

"What do you fancy?" the goat demon asked with a light laugh, "The same as last time, or are you going to try something different?" See, he enjoyed this. The peace, the quiet, all by himself and decent company at his side. There wasn't anything to worry about other than what you wanted to drink. You could have your mind at ease. And he certainly preferred this to dealing with a certain two twins, "I may go for a coffee, just to wake me up a little. Something simple."

Gueton removed that black crown from his head and placed it upon the table, taking out that itty bitty hairband at the back of his head to retie his ponytail. Admittedly he missed his long hair, but keeping it short was best. After all, it was a lot easier to wash and brush. He idly wondered how the others were doing back home, and he wondered if his son was doing well which was, unfortunately, doubtful.

Her eyes watched him as he took off his crown, tidied his hair. It was roughly the same length as her's and she can't help but wonder if she looked like a boy... Shaking the thought out of her head, her eyes gazed back to the menu, looking over the various teas. Jasmine, Oolong, Black. Some others that she's never heard of before. What if she ordered one and realized she didn't like it? What if she left the tea unfinished and waste the time, effort, and ingredients needed to make it? 

The confusion was really beginning to show on her face. Thus she looked back at him and placed the menu down. And then she signed, "What do you recommend?"