Doc gave no indication at all that he'd cared a whit about Karl's reprimand, nor took offense to the other man's outright accusation of rudeness. Just an easy smile, as untouched by stress or care as it ever was. Deft fingers gathered up the abandoned cards and reshuffled them, laying them out in the patterns of Crows and Crosses once more as he continued his previously interrupted solitaire game.
"One believes that strength is to be found in the body," he said, glancing to Karl, "and the other that it is a mental faculty," he said with a flicker of a smile to the still unnamed man. "Let me speak to each of your points. Firstly," he said, lowering his voice just a hair to be sure that only these two men heard him, "this is not a survivor race. This race is dying, slowly but surely, and do not fool yourself as to how they are surviving right now. You have to have heard the stories, yes? That to be human and bear a blue child is as good as a death sentence. And yet you see many women bearing the mark of them. Now tell me truly - if you were a slaver, with a string of a dozen ripe young women to sell," he said amiably, "and you knew the Akalak had a tendency to raid slavers to 'save' their women, why would you come within a hundred miles of this city? And yet they come, and the women are rescued and pay their debt with their vagiks and their lives. Good for them, I suppose - they've found a way to keep their blood flowing a little bit longer, and I won't pass judgment on that. But I also won't call them strong for it," he said, giving Karl a friendly smile.
He turned his attention to the other man, flipping a card over and placing it in the pattern he'd laid upon the table. "And as for your statement about men having the capacity to do whatever they like - yes, I do think you're right about that," he chuckled, something a little less friendly twisting his lips at the open glare the man had given him. It smoothed out, though, and the rest of his words were delivered in such a perfectly congenial and open tone of voice that it was hard to tell at first that his words were anything but. "For instance, a man can play a game of cards by himself, and offer anyone who joins him the opportunity to play along. And when those who join him immediately decry him as rude for wanting to actually play said game, instead of recognizing themselves as rude for interrupting the game, destroying it, and then commandeering his table for their idiotic, childish ramblings on the philosophy of strength - which both of you define as the thing in which you yourselves are best at, in some egocentric flight of self-justification which isn't impressing anyone," he laughed, still as if it were all the nicest conversation in the world, "well, a man has the choice of being offended or letting it go and joining in with the conversation that he neither invited nor particularly cares for. Because that is what one does in polite company. One rises above, do they not, stranger?" he asked, grinning to him as he met his gaze. Heavy-lidded eyes watched him as his fingers continued flipping cards idly, and his smile twisted into something more satisfied. "And acting friendly. And since you seem to be patently unable to live by your own words and introduce yourself, I shall be the better man and do it for you. Because I am rising above," he chuckled, emphasizing the phrase again. "I believe your name is... Rain, yes?" he said softly, and there was a spark of some knowledge behind his gaze, an ancient knowledge greater than most men were capable of.
At the end of all that, he grinned - dazzling and dark, and revealed that his teeth were composed of the same shimmering ebony as his nail, perfectly straight and clean, dark shadows against his lips.
