The Shade blinked at that, taken off guard by the observation. Nothing but the look in those eyes, all but sparkling and singing with life, was anything typical--and even that was off, because she was so totally unafraid.
"That ain't something I hear very often." he replied, watching her tear off a chunk of her danish and offer it to him. It was a very simple, very human gesture, too distracted and steady to be an attempt at manipulation. He regarded her dubiously for a long moment, then reached across the table to accept the piece of food. As he did, the glow of power in his eyes faded, the blinding white of lightning dimming to reveal slate grey eyes, as cold as hers were warm, as clear and unforgiving as hers were dark and inviting. When they did sparkle, it wasn't with life, but with that unbridled fury of thunder and lightning that seemed to be all that animated him.
For a moment, he simply held her offering in hand...and with a thoughtful look at that inconsequential piece of food, for an instant he seemed to suddenly dissolve, a haze of dark, foreboding looking fog or thunderclouds before he coalesced again in his human guise. The hat on the table was gone, and the longcoat had been reduced to a to a biker's kutte over a sleeveless t-shirt, his long hair bound back in a tight braid, covered by a bandanna and no longer the color of old blood, but a more human shade of vibrant auburn.
Only then did he take a bite of his chunk of danish, considering the piece of food with a dour, dubious expression as he chewed and swallowed...then set the sweet treat down on a nearby napkin and reached for his coffee for a long, scalding, cleansing swallow.
"What makes you think I'm a better choice 'n Heaven or Hell?" he finally asked, the Southern drawl far more audible as he sat there, not as a god, but a pretense of a living man.
no subject
"That ain't something I hear very often." he replied, watching her tear off a chunk of her danish and offer it to him. It was a very simple, very human gesture, too distracted and steady to be an attempt at manipulation. He regarded her dubiously for a long moment, then reached across the table to accept the piece of food. As he did, the glow of power in his eyes faded, the blinding white of lightning dimming to reveal slate grey eyes, as cold as hers were warm, as clear and unforgiving as hers were dark and inviting. When they did sparkle, it wasn't with life, but with that unbridled fury of thunder and lightning that seemed to be all that animated him.
For a moment, he simply held her offering in hand...and with a thoughtful look at that inconsequential piece of food, for an instant he seemed to suddenly dissolve, a haze of dark, foreboding looking fog or thunderclouds before he coalesced again in his human guise. The hat on the table was gone, and the longcoat had been reduced to a to a biker's kutte over a sleeveless t-shirt, his long hair bound back in a tight braid, covered by a bandanna and no longer the color of old blood, but a more human shade of vibrant auburn.
Only then did he take a bite of his chunk of danish, considering the piece of food with a dour, dubious expression as he chewed and swallowed...then set the sweet treat down on a nearby napkin and reached for his coffee for a long, scalding, cleansing swallow.
"What makes you think I'm a better choice 'n Heaven or Hell?" he finally asked, the Southern drawl far more audible as he sat there, not as a god, but a pretense of a living man.