Closed A Stitch in Time

[Piraen Saneka]

A Stitch in Time Piraen, Venser and Verin 16th Day of Winter, 514 AV 8th or 9th Bell in The Merchant's Ring Piraen enjoyed his habit of waking early. Every day at precisely 30 chimes after the 6th bell, Pi would roll out of bed and meander his way around his small apartment. If he had work, his steps would have a bit more purpose to them. If he didn't have work, then he would plop in front of his window and watch the activity below. Today, however, was slightly different. Today, Pi rose at the 5th bell. He wasn't quite sure why, but he had risen much earlier than he normally would've, even though he had absolutely nothing to do. Even more bizarre was the influx of energy that rushed through him as soon as his eyes opened. He sprung out of bed that morning and buzzed around the apartment. With this invigorated feeling pulsing through him, Piraen found time to clean up the apartment, wreck it while looking for a piece of scrap fabric and, miraculously, clean it all up once more before the 6th bell chimed. He managed to sweat his way through two outfits and, somehow, bruise himself with a blanket. The last of his leftover work was pushed through as well. However, Pi took it as a bad sign when he tripped into his door for the fourth time. Might as well leave now before I ruin the place again. The kelvic shrugged his way out of the apartment, bouncing into a boat on the waterway.. "Thank you. The People's Market. Thank you. I mean, please, then thank you. Only one thank you, though." Piraen's speech was quick and broken, much like that of a flustered first-time customer at a always-busy market stall. Throughout the watery trip through the city, Pi would frequently alternate between sitting and standing. Occasionally, he would try to use up some energy by waving at people on the walkways. Unfortunately, this directed many dirty looks and sharp glares towards the man. In fact, Pi was sure that someone on the footpath had made a threat on his life... Reaching his destination, Pi hopped onto the walkway. His feet were already walking away as his lanky fingers dropped coinage into his chauffer's hand. A smirk spread across his face as he found a stall with promise: dried fruits. Perfect. Pushing his way to the stall, Piraen eyed the large stock of peaches that the owner had on display. Nothing could soothe Pi quite like his favorite food could. The only thing left to do now would be to decide exactly how much soothing he needed...

[Venser Rush]

A deep breath escaped the younger twin's lungs as him and his brother traversed the pathways leading towards the Merchant's Ring, the effort of doing so forcing pain to sear through his chest. Brother... I think I'm in need of some new clothes. Let's go to the Market. The words had passed nearly a bell ago from his lips, but the humiliated tone in them ringed clearly in his mind. The young man's face had lost most of its swelling, though the cut and burning that associated with the injury were still present, and uncomfortable. It had been impossible to shave for the entire week, leaving the younger of the twins with blonde stubble, a rarity. He doubted that even his brother had seen him with stubble before this, the two preferring the universally accepted appearance of a clean-shaven adult. For good reason. It's petching uncomfortable... The extent of his injuries was rather harsh, his brother having to take him to the Healing Hand just days ago. Humiliating... The whole experience of it was utterly humiliating. It had been worth it, for Venser had gained teeth for use in his favoured and nearly abandoned craft of Malediction, but the facial injury was the least of his worries. Cuts extended to his left hand, making it difficult to clench his fist, but even that, was insignificant. Broken ribs... The other was left in a worse condition, but still... Two of the bones protecting his innards from serious injury were fractured from a powerful kick from his adversary in a brawl, manufactured from the exchange of glances between himself and a flirtatious, pretty thing at the tavern. Jealousy was the downfall of men, indeed. In the future, perhaps the fool would reconsider giving voice to such a petty emotion. This injury was by far the worst the Rush twin had suffered in his lifetime, making it an effort to breathe, to move, and even to move his right arm, though fortunately this was not a serious issue, the right being his weaker. He glanced over at his brother as they walked, as if attempting to divine what his elder was thinking. Perhaps he was being looked down upon for getting in physical altercation, for Venser knew that Verin was too "dignified" to dirty his hands with such a thing. Or, perhaps his brother even hated him. Maybe Grayson heard about it. What if he thinks I'll do the same at his tavern? Venser had not wished to affect his brother with his own decisions, but what affected one affected the other, as they were more often than not confused for each other, if that. Maybe some even thought they were the same person. The two were at the precipice of entering as Venser's thoughts drifted back to the teeth. He would be, of course, unable to work on them until his hand healed to a better extent, as Malediction was a craft that required both, but the rib injury would do little to hinder him. They're bandaged up rather tightly, after all. I can't even bend to the sides with the way that these petching bindings are arranged. It's suffocating. In truth, they were not, but Venser was bitter about having to wear them in the first place. Venser looked to his brother again for guidance, as Verin was more familiar with where to shop than he was. He slowed his pace so that he was a half-step behind the elder, awaiting his step to dictate their direction.

[Verin Rush]

Verin simply nodded at his brother’s words about needing new clothes. In truth, the elder brother had been thinking the same thing for the past few days, about himself. It had been a while since he had bought anything new and, since the execution of the Rising Dawn, he wanted to buy something new in order to give off a good impression. The Black Sun must have noticed him by now… it must surely only be a matter of time before he is summoned before an Acolyte… The young man was patient, however, and he would wait as look as it took to do what he dreamed of since he was old enough to understand who and what Rhysol was. He said none of this to Venser though; having shared nothing of his wish to join the organization devoted to the Defiler, though he was sure his brother suspected, at least. Normally, he would utter words of agreement, or add something to the conversation, but there was little conversation between the twins today, nor had there been them for the past four days or so. Venser had returned home a bloodied mess, frightening the older brother. Though some of the more superficial injuries and bruises had begun to heal and the swelling had gone down, he still had many scabbed over cuts and Verin had even once seen the state of Venser’s ribs. Verin had been furious, partially at Venser for being so bleeding thoughtless as to get himself into the state he was in, but mostly in himself for allowing his brother to continue down the dwindling path he had chosen. Their father’s death was the turning point in both of their lives, but no matter what Verin did, he continued to see the after effects of that fateful day in his brothers eyes, and his actions. Nothing was more terrifying than the thought of what he had led his brother to become. What was worse was that Venser had appeared to be almost proud of his injuries, of the brawl he had been involved in. It was all Verin could do to drag his foolish tin down to the Healing Hand and get him seen to. The results had been worse than expected, particularly the two broken ribs. Though it gave him satisfaction today to see him wince in pain every now and again. “Worse…” a new thought drifted through his mind, taunting him, “What if the Ebonstryfe were involved with Venser’s little stunt? Your name, and looks, will be forever marred.” Verin looked around as he silently seethed. Likely, the pair would just head to Azure Reflections Fine Tailoring for a new set of clothes each, but for the moment, he just wanted to look around. The longer they were out, the more pain Venser would be in by the end of the day, and he hoped that his twin would learn his lesson, that such behaviour was damaging to Verin’s prospects.

[Piraen Saneka]

After much deliberation, Piraen finally settled on half of a pound of dried peaches. With a grin still plastered on his face, the man eagerly traded his mizas for the delectable treats. "Much appreciated!" Pi chirped to the vender, cheerfully bringing the bag of fruit close to his chest. The stall's owner eyed him suspiciously. One could clearly see the wheels turning: A cheerful man? Here? Impossible! Pi could admit that seeing a man that was just so happy to not only be spending his hard-earned mizas, but to also be doing so at an early time in a crowded market would be a bit unnerving. It was no matter, though: the delicious fruits were a steal! These dried goods would last much longer than their fresh counterparts...they were far cheaper as well. Nodding one more time to the vender, Pi pivoted. He scanned the market for an easy exit. By now the crowd had engulfed the entire place, swallowing the free spaces entirely. Now, Piraen was not a small man, per se. Standing at 5 feet and 11 inches, he normally has a few inches above those around him. Unfortunately though, the kelvic had roughly the same stage presence as a duck--a very, very, very small and meek duck. Thusly, his response to crowds was a sheepish one. The energetic man folded into himself, squeezing his entire body together while wrapping his purchases into the safety of his chest. Head down, Pi pushed forward. However, after a couple of chimes he found himself exhausted. Popping out of the other side of the traffic, Piraen slumped against a post. "Well this is...rousing." In an attempt to pull himself out of the impending panic attack, Pi fished a small peach slice from his bag. Slowly, he began to nibble his way through the heavenly fruit. As his heart rate began to calm, the man nonchalantly watched a tailor at work in his 'shop' three or four stalls down. A smirk grazed Pi's lips. The man had a pathetic setup. His fabrics were strewn across the work tables in haphazard bunches, and his face was burnt from the constant light pouring through the tarp walls. It was sad, considering the tailor appeared to be making good business. He had to be great at what he did, or else he wouldn't be running such a sorry-sight of a success. At least he has a shop... Piraen groaned, reaching for another slice as he mused about the possibility of someday having a shop of his own. Note to self : Deduct 7gm & 5sm for peaches.

[Venser Rush]

The younger of the twins glanced at his brother every now and then, the elder showing the lack of appreciation, what could even be interpreted as contempt, in his eyes. The two had not spoken ever since Venser had mentioned the need to seek out clothing, the silence almost numbing, but Venser knew that breaking it was a senseless endeavor. The action would only bring rise to another argument, a fruitless exchange of words that could only end in two scenarios: exasperation on behalf of the elder and resentment on behalf of the younger. Verin simply did not understand what it was to awaken the Flux, he did not know the power that it bestowed, the innate need to control and shape that power, to strengthen it, was enthralling. The flow of Djed through the limbs, forcing the human body to hyperactivate in a way that only a Fluxist could possibly understand, the very concept produced an allure that no human female could duplicate. Glancing over at his brother again, Venser's left fist rolled into a fist, moving to weakly strike his brother on the shoulder, showing him that they were nearing their destination, "Oi, Verin. Wake up, we're nearly there." The younger twin managed a grin, though on his following step, he pressed too hard on the floor, the impact reverberating through his body, bringing yet another wince to his features. Masking the pain, the engraver turned to his brother, pain ruining his mood and bringing light to another fact, "What's your deal, anyway, brother?" He emphasized the last word, allowing, to an extent, contempt to flow into his tone to show Verin that he was acting out of turn. Rather than show concern for the younger brother, Verin was keeping thoughts to himself. It had been my understanding that we were minimizing secrets between us, yet Verin has yet to keep his end of the bargain." Of course, Venser had not told his brother about his outings, or about the slave he had met, but these were minor details. Boring, even. The humdrum activities of the day need not be relayed constantly. But Verin, on the other hand, is clearly hiding a bigger secret. Venser pointedly looked away from his brother, casting his gaze about in search of... anything, really. His brother was being unfair, and was therefore not worthy of Venser's full attention. From the corner of his eye, Venser spotted what looked to be a rather tall man snacking on... an entire bag of peaches? That's just... strange. What sort of person eats peaches on the side of a walkway? It was only upon looking at the strange man with the strange fruit that the twin realized his own hunger, his stomach growling weakly. It had been ignored in his frustration with his brother and the dull aching of his ribs, but it was rather stressing, all the same.

[Verin Rush]

Verin felt his brother’s closed fist meet his arm; it was a gentle, playful punch and, ordinarily, the older brother would have smiled and returned the favour, but not today. There was no denying it – he was fearful for his brother, and had been since the death of their father. This was, to him, just yet another sign that Venser was not always in control of what he was doing. And the lure of magic was spurring him on, dangerously. Verin sometimes wondered if he had let his enjoyment of Hypnotism take over his true goals in helping his brother. In no way had he meant for his words to lead to… what it did. Since that fateful day, he had vowed never again to use that gift on his brother. As they passed a man buying a bunch of peaches, he was once again broken out of his reverie by Venser addressing him, though this time he could detect tones of irritation colouring his voice. The elder Rush stopped suddenly and turned to his brother, grabbing the other’s arm as he did so, and pulling him close. He did not care if the movement caused his brother pain; it would be yet another reminder of the younger’s folly. “You don’t get it, do you, Venser?” He hissed into his brother’s face. The intimidating quality of his stance might have been lost on another occasion, due to their shared size and general stature, but today Venser was somewhat huddled over, protecting his ribs. “Let’s ignore the fact that you seem to be falling into the allure of the magics you are learning and could very possibly be losing your very sense of self within it all…” He glanced around, checking that no one was too close to them to hear (it probably wasn’t the most sensible idea that Verin ever had, to have this conversation in the middle of the market), but everyone seemed to be too busy with their own business to listen to the brothers. They received no more than a curious glance from most people, as expected from human identical twins outside of Wind Reach. “Let’s put that to the side for a minute... because every time you lose control of your composure, and fall to the Djed and anger, you risk yourself in ways more than what you might expect.” He glared into his brother’s azure eyes, glad that he didn’t feel as if he was looking back on himself – he did not particularly like what he saw brewing there. “We were lucky when you murdered our father. The Ebonstryfe and Black Sun already suspected Vilkas Rush of being a member of the Rising Dawn. There was no further investigation, and no consequences for you.” He dropped his brother’s arm at last and pulled away, casting his gaze around once more, “If you had killed that man, nothing I could have done would have spared you. With a Syliran father, we are on the precipice, no matter that we disposed of his life. I don’t want to see you hanged with every other traitor or murderer in the city. You’re better than that.” It took every bit of his will power to not allow his voice to settle into a ore melodic tone, to convince his brother otherwise. The results of Hypnotism on his brother were inconsistent, to say the least, and the good of what it could do wasn’t worth the price they would both pay if he watched his brother succumb to the words in a more negative light. The price of Venser’s life would always be too steep for Verin. The elder twin shook his head, “C’mon, we need to get these clothes tailored… there’s no telling how busy Azure Reflections is.” OOCLeft it open for you to hear all/the end of the conversation, Pi feel free to jump on them now!

[Piraen Saneka]

As Piraen worked his way through his bag of goodies, he became restless. As wonderfully interesting as it had been, this mini-adventure was beginning to wear it's use thin. A twitch began to form in the man's right leg, forcing him to tap out a rapid beat on the ground with his shoe. His bony fingers tapped on the bag. Piraen stood as long as he could bear, but after a while he started to annoy himself. "What to do, what to do..." The bored man's eyes began to rove, eagerly eating up the scenery. They immediately locked onto a group of older children swearing and taunting each other. With a backwards flick of the eyes, Pi moved on: his attention couldn't be held by a bunch of bratty, overconfident youth. He then found a petite woman as she weaved between stalls, often bumping into the owners as she did so. Pi lingered, watching the woman for a few more ticks. Clumsy? The kelvic tilted his head curiously as she tripped into yet another owner. After apologizing profusely, she pocketed a small object. Piraen rolled his eyes once more. Thief. Boring. Just as he began to contemplate starting as scene, two identical men caught his eye. Snapping his head in their direction, Piraen tilted his head awkwardly. Even though he knew his eyes could rotate about their sockets in this form, the kelvic raptor never could shake the habit. He eyed the pair, taking in their appearance with a grain of salt. Could they really be there? Pi gently shook his head in thought. Their likeness of each other was so shockingly perfect that Piraen began to think he was hallucinating. As the pair neared, however, Pi proved himself wrong. Not only did they have different scaring amongst their features and unalike clothing, but they also were conversing with each other. Though normally well-mannered, Pi couldn't help but eavesdrop; they were so intriguing, it'd be a crime not too! Besides, he was bored and they were not boring. Magic? Not too bad... Piraen began to critique their conversation, judging them silently as they walked by. Ooh, a lost sense of self? Interesting, I suppose. The two men were rapidly losing Pi's attention. His eyes drifted back to the crowd, slowly patrolling for the next victim that his judgments would befall. One final word, however, smacked the inside of his ear: murdered. An angst-filled, murderous family? Piraen pushed off the wall, leaping into the flow of traffic once more. After a few firm nudges, bystanders began to allow him through. His steps gained an excited energy as he caught the tail-end of the conversation. Who need a tailor, no less? Picking up the pace, Pi slithered his way through the muttering crowd. He hated to be rude and call more attention to himself than needed, but this was a matter of upmost importance. As he experienced earlier, an idle tailor makes for a clumsy, injury-prone man. Piraen wasn't going back home without burning out some of that energy...he just simply wouldn't. Pi grinned as he finally reached the weird pair, gently slapping a hand onto each of their shoulders. "Wait just a moment--why do you walk so fast? Is there a fire? Ugh--please, wait!" His words were just as quick and energetic as the nervous electricity that pulsed through him. Rethinking his entrance, Piraen was fast to remove his hands. He wasn't eager to entice the murderous men's anger. "Probably shouldn't've of done that. Oh well, apologies. I'm Piraen, I heard that you might need my services." A goofy grin plastered itself onto the man's face as he quickly tacked on a few more rapid words: "Tailoring, that is. I service tailoring. I mean, tailoring is my service? My services are tailoring?...eh, I can fix your clothes."

[Venser Rush]

As condescending as ever. Hunched over and broken as he was, Venser never feared his brother. Broken and beaten as he was, the Flux was still his tool to commandeer, his weapon to use to drive oppressors from his life. He'd done it when the bastard that gave him these injuries had done so. He'd been at the man's mercy, on the floor, ribs broken already. He'd likely have been killed had he not struck out to save himself. It was instinct that had compelled him to fling a stool at him, the Flux that had given him the power to do so. It was also the medium that prevented further injury. Yes, he had popped his shoulder and elbow in the process, but that was an easy treatment. It hurt to put back into place, but better treatable injury than death. Verin was the one that simply did not understand. His left arm still ached horribly from his injuries, so Venser decided to use his right, standing up erect, teeth gritting as the pain seared through his body. It was there, but he was apart from it. Anger was like the Flux in a way. It dulled the pain, rushing adrenaline in the body so that the young man could go about his business. Venser's cold, piercing gaze of crystal bore into his brother's paler eyes, his lips curled in an obvious snarl as he snatched the collar of his brother's shirt, unaware of the presence that was following their movements with his eyes. They stopped at this point, Venser feeling the need to express his point. "Verin, I swear on our bastard of a father's grave that if you say another petching word about this, I'm going to break your teeth in. YOU don't understand what happened. You see injuries and you assume that I petching threw myself headfirst into the fray for no reason. Do you really think so low of me that you'd assume that I'm the sort to just charge into a battle and petch myself up? I was provoked. I was attacked. I won." Anger flooded the prideful younger twin's eyes, but the force of the motion was too much for his body to take, his body shaking in agonized coughs as he attempted to regain his composure. Admittedly, the older twin was right to an extent, but this was NOT the way to go about doing it. And Venser was not going to take the brunt of his brother's condescending, pompous mood swings without defending the living hell out of himself. Verin was speaking from a narrowed perspective, a frantic, worried one, but he was being selfish and unfair to the younger twin. At this point, it was less about Venser and more about Verin's antiquated desire to protect. Venser was strong now. His potential was beginning to be grasped, and he did not NEED Verin's protection anymore. He needed his assistance, but most of all, his respect. "I'm sick and tired of you thinking that you know better than I do, brother." Again, the word was filled with venom, nearly spat out of the younger twin's mouth with contempt. There was a stranger approaching now, almost there, but Venser didn't care. He was sick of being moderated, sick of being controlled. Venser knew at this point about Verin's magic, at least, partially. The question was whether or not Verin was attempting to tame him like an animal. "If it were you in my place that evening, you would be dead.. You think you're so much better than me, but what can you really do?" Anger had gotten the best of the Fluxist, but it had to stop. The person was just meters away at this point, his words spilling from lips, speaking of the need that they had. A tailor? The reason for their outing was right before them, and by the man's look, it'd probably be cheaper than if they chose to do so at Azure Reflections. The blonde truly had no desire for extended human contact, his pain and frustrations boiling over to a point where he exploded. Too much so. Later, when a clearer mind was had, the thought would cross his mind to apologize to his brother. Venser did his utmost to allow the anger to clear from his features, succeeding to a large extent with thanks to the exercises of clearing one's mind that he encouraged himself to do. Only traces of the fire was visible in his eyes, his lips parted in a weak smile as the man's eccentric demeanor distracted him. He was a likable fellow, at the very least. "Oh? You're a tailor, too? How wonderful! I'd much rather give my business to you, friend. I think that Azure Reflections is a bit too... busy. That was the word you used, right Verin?" Venser's tone while saying the last sentence was sickly sweet, bitterness that was meant to jibe his brother even further expressed in subtle undertones. Looking over to the new arrival again, he nodded slightly, "You can see the injuries. My clothes are in no better of a condition. Could you repair them? It would be greatly appreciated."

[Verin Rush]

Without a word, Verin watches the anger take a hold of his brother. He remained stoic and impassive as Venser’s anger grew into something akin to pre-violent rage, and his words and tone matched the mood. Partly, Verin hoped that, by remaining neutral, and not rising to the bait that Venser was placing so indiscreetly in front of him, the younger would become more self-aware and calm down faster. This conversation had the potential to break their relationship, Verin was well aware, but he would not have engaged Venser’s fancies even in the privacy of their own room, let alone allow the argument to continue in public, and he saw that there was no reasoning with the other at this stage, so he remained silent. More importantly, however Verin was very conscious of the pity and regret that was welling up inside him, like butterflies in his stomach. The schooled expression was primarily in place so that he would not give away such emotions to his brother, frightened that that would only cause another wave of rage in the other, one that would not subside as easily. It was in this moment that it first occurred to Verin how alike to their father Venser was. No, the son was not abusive towards children, or the weak, or even his own kin. Nor was he a blasphemous drunkard. But there were similarities in the father’s temper, in comparison to the son’s. It was a crude link, Verin accepted, but he could see it there nonetheless and it upset and frightened him. When his brother hunched over, apparently in pain, Verin, again did not move, did nothing to help or support his brother. Instead, he looked around mildly at the tall fronts, somewhat curious at what was being old today. He noticed that the pair had attracted the attention of a few milling people as they passed, but such a thing was not unusual; twins were rare and they garnered enough stares from that. He was content to allow himself to believe that the curious glances were nothing more than that – a look of surprise at seeing double, rather than people watching the spectacle that Venser was creating for himself. As his brother regained control over his pain, the rage continued, and, though he was aware that Venser was lashing out purely for the sake of lashing out, he still found the words hitting a tender spot. It hurt that his brother thought so little of him; Venser didn’t mean all of what he said, of course, but it all had to resonate in truth somewhere inside of him. He wondered where he had gone wrong – he had done his best to protect his brother since they were mere boys, trading places with the younger to take the blows dealt by the father. He had educated the younger twin too, shared all of his knowledge and allowed Venser to succeed where he could, or would, not. The protective streak had continued long after physical protection was required, and apparently it was all meaningless to the younger. “I wouldn’t have been in the situation in the first place…” he murmured, barely audibly, so that he didn’t even know if Venser would have heard it. He didn’t know the situation of the fight Venser had been in, but his own assumptions on how these sorts of brawls began led him to believe that fuel had to be added to the fire, meaning that Venser could not be entirely blameless in its instigation. But he said no more on the matter as they were stopped by a man behind them. Turning, Verin instantly noticed the apparently completely obsidian eyes staring back between the two brothers. “A Kelvic, brilliant.” Came the immediate derisive thought and he opened his mouth to say that he would prefer to frequent the same place he normally did, but Venser got their first. Careful not to roll his eyes in irritation, he nodded politely when his brother included him in the conversation, “Yes, I would appreciate a brand new set of clothes.”

[Piraen Saneka]

Having grown up in Alvadas, Piraen knew when he was being lied to. People have tells. Everyone knew that. What those tells were, however, might be challenging. Challenging, that is, to those who did not have the exceptionally well-developed eyesight of a raptor. Piraen couldn't smell fear or feel micro vibrations in the ground or taste the chemical makeup of the air...no, he had no special power like some other kelvics' animal counterparts. He did, however, have the ability to see the tiniest of changes. Extra cones in his eyes allowed him to track small movements, making a slight twitch drop into a gaping cavern in someone's face. Thusly, Pi could easily pick up on the tension in the men's faces: the tight lips as they smiled, the slight squint in the eyes as they glared, the rigidness of their bodies as they moved... They are good. Pi noted the easy transition the two went through, shifting from two bickering boys shaking in their anger to two genteel adults standing in polite harmony. An easy transition, but a visible one nonetheless. Piraen looked askance at the identical blonds. Only shifty men with shifty motives switched emotions that freely. The kelvic's eyes skittered across the smaller of the two, snagging on every scar along the way. His left arm was a haphazard mess, like a ship had wrecked onto it. Broken boards were scattered about, leaving behind scars that permanently floated on the skin. Scores littered his forearm, slinking down the arm as they led to the newest shipwreck among these slippery hands: fresh cuts along the thin fingers, sores rising above the others. Piraen silently tutted, slightly surprised in his own poor choice in customers. This regret melted away quickly, though, as Pi realized that his usual customers were normally en route to prison cells at the Vitrax. "Friends?" Piraen's eyes darted back up to the face of the first speaker. His smile never broke as he examined the man, but it did falter as he came to the realization that he might have been staring creepily at his potential customers. Piraen pressed a nervous laugh into the air. Words then began to, once again, rapidly and uncontrollably spill from his lips. "Delightful! Though, I guess I'm a terrible friend if you need to buy my friendship, hm? Though I can't say that that hasn't happened before..." His dark eyes rolled slightly upwards in thought for a tick, shrugging as his brain resumed racing forward. "Oh petch, I'm a friendly prostitute aren't I? As in, one who only sells their friendship? Er, not that I won't be your friend without mizas. Mizas help, is all. After all, friendship will never be as filling as a good meal, if you get my drift, sirs. Aye, a good meal..." Pi suddenly recognized that he was coming off as somewhat of a creep. Shaking the dream of a large, warm meal from his mind, the man searched for the filter that normally kept him from spewing insanity at strangers. Unfortunately, no such filter was to be found. He frowned deeply, both in apology to the shifty men and in disappointment at himself. "That was.....normal." Piraen mocked himself with a grunt. "My apologies. It has been a regular, old-fashioned Rhysol day for me: busy, chaotic and downright sinister. I may not be as good of company as Alira, but I can fix your clothes faster, and cheaper, than her any time."