"Seems like kind of a dick move to call copyright on abstract concepts, but hey. You do you." He's close enough now that he can shift his weight and lean against the empty chair. "You're the one playing fucking- universal Capture the Flag or some shit."
But if she gets to be full of shit, so does he - and it takes almost no concentration to feel the hot rush of Glamour burning in his veins (because of course she already knows his name, no freebie for him) to activate his contract of Witches' Intuition. See if she's scared of anything like he is well and truly scared of her.
Her greatest fear is to lose control of her own mind. Insanity, hallucination, dementia, brainwashing, schizophrenia - any and all form of identity confusion and executive dysfunction fill her with terror and loathing.
"Hey," she says, as he divines this, "I was made that way. I am the principle of thought in action, and a whole cloud of - what was that?"
She frowns, and her teeth click shut, looking around the stage as if hunting for some exterior force of danger.
The heat of his Glamour is gone as soon as it comes, and left behind is that knowledge - useful, surely, but he's not quite sure how just yet.
But when she looks away, his ears go flat against his head, and the fur down his spine stands on end as he looks around too. Shit, did she sense that? "W-what?"
"I've been hacked, Jack. Was that you?" She stares at him as if she can stare into him, intent frown on her face, but after just a moment her expression grows softer. "Pretty slick, if it was. Just be careful - somebody with a mortal brain can get a whole lot more than they bargain for, poking around backstage."
"Well, I'll make sure to try and notice you and your fucking 'siblings' in future. Can't imagine it's too hard, if it's all just one big free-for-all."
"I live to please," he drawls in return; if sarcasm was bitter, he was spewing horseradish. "Any you think are particularly worth trying to understand, or should I just gung-ho it and go befriend everyone?"
"Anyone smart. Anyone quick. Anyone who actually tries to make the other mortals happy. If I tell you straight you'll find a reason to distrust it. I want you to see it for yourself. Make the conclusions your own."
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But if she gets to be full of shit, so does he - and it takes almost no concentration to feel the hot rush of Glamour burning in his veins (because of course she already knows his name, no freebie for him) to activate his contract of Witches' Intuition. See if she's scared of anything like he is well and truly scared of her.
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"Hey," she says, as he divines this, "I was made that way. I am the principle of thought in action, and a whole cloud of - what was that?"
She frowns, and her teeth click shut, looking around the stage as if hunting for some exterior force of danger.
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But when she looks away, his ears go flat against his head, and the fur down his spine stands on end as he looks around too. Shit, did she sense that? "W-what?"
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"I'll make a note," he comments, trying to put a dry bravado back up. "Sure as shit can't say I expected you to notice that."
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