gebrochener-adler

[gebrochener-adler]

While Roderich was not necessarily adverse to praise, he was very suspicious of it even when nothing could possibly be gained in the moment. There was always some possibility that he was being softened up for some other eventuality when his cooperation would be required. While favours were expected after such instances, he was not prepared for the actual nature of what Immanuil wanted.

It took him a moment to process what had been said, partly because of the botched saying but mostly due to what it led up to. He blinked, once, twice, his usual somewhat stoic expression replaced with mild confusion and surprise because he could not believe this topic had surfaced again. Not only that, but yet again someone was treating it as though they were asking him about burying bodies or some other secret that would have them thrown in jail should someone witness it. Why was this so dramatic? Was he losing his mind? Had some edict come out against concealer in the last year that he was unaware of?

After another second of much too prolonged silence, he shook his head as though to pull himself out of his stunned reverie and he cleared his throat. "That was all you wanted? I suppose I noticed a little tiredness." He fished around in the left pocket of his trousers and pulled out blue tube. It almost looked like a pen, or a marker and had the words 'La Prarie' on the side. "It may be best to check if we are actually close enough in tone however, let me see your wrist?" He said it more like a statement than a request, glancing up over the rims of his glasses at the other. There was no judgement in the look, merely a 'matter-of-fact' calmness. A part of him mostly wanted to treat this as normally as possible to both put Immanuil at ease, and to hopefully avoid any other odd and awkward discussion about the 'manliness' of the whole affair.

"You are wise, as ever." Immanuil desired to stall longer, grasping every bit of fluff and never reach his goal. Most men would allow him to, especially with all the praise and flattery! Immanuil imagined he could keep certain other westerners going for days, weeks even, with this idle meandering prattle.

"I never could get anything past you--not really--but I suppose I do like that about you. You cut through the bullshit so well. Yes, it's appearance related. Out of everyone, I trust you to appreciate both the need to maintain a certain look or presence, and the need for discretion. Certainly, you have had as much honor as can be expected from us thieves, or however that phrase works." He paused, considered his words." I have been tired and forgetful lately--more than I care to admit--and I worry that I might be showing it more than I realize. I wanted to ask your opinion on that, and ask you if I could. Perhaps borrowyourconcealer." He trailed off at the end, suddenly quite insecure about his request.

#thisurlislongerthanatolstoynovel

[gebrochener-adler]

//Roderich is stressed like 90% of the time but never shows it and if you get him to relax even a smidge he’ll absolutely do anything he can to keep you around//

#life is tension #ooc

[gebrochener-adler]

Once outside, Roderich peers up at a street light and follows the flight path of a moth bashing into it repeatedly to no avail. Its futility causes him some amusement for no good reason whatsoever and he huffs softly before stiffening abruptly once the woman, no, the Lindwurm encroaches on his space. Still, he does not recoil as he feels the napkin soak up a bit of his blood. Rather, he takes to studying her arms again, scanning over the rims of his glasses to do so.  “Hmn, quite observant for such a frail and delicate individual.” His tone is bone dry before he decides to drop the sarcasm. “I was not interested in causing anything, permanent.  Self regulation is, somewhat more challenging at the moment.”  One hand lifts to try and straighten some of his hair and push it back into place. It is a somewhat failed endeavor and he sways a little on the spot again before waving a hand and reaching up to gently tap Rainer’s wrist. A little almost rhythmic set of five taps with his index finger. An observant individual might notice they were perfectly timed as though a metronome were somewhere off to the side to guide him. 

“So, was my prize indeed the injury and nothing more? Or is my cynicism outpacing the situation yet again?” He tilts his head a little to one side as he asks. 

@gebrochener-adler // here

Rainer is very careful to keep her face blank at the old language-- it's rare that she just so happens to stumble on another immortal, but not unheard of. It just excites her all the more to make her feel, briefly, like she's holding the end of his leash.

She watches the fight like a raptor, holding her drink up to her mouth to hide her too-toothy grin. The Austrian fights well enough, she supposes-- swift, strong blows, albeit seemingly indecisive. Still, the fight is over in short order, and the skinhead lays defeated. She doesn't clap for him, but the pleased glint in her eye is hard to miss.

He looks good ruffled up, bloodied nose. She bets she could make him bruise like a peach. She'd like to give it her best shot, anyway.

As he is unceremoniously removed from the bar, Rainer stands as well, slinking along behind him at a safe distance that sort of implies they may or may not be together-- few people had paid her any mind when she'd swanned over to him, after all, other than the waitress she'd paid off for the bottle. Once they're outside she meanders up to him and dabs gently at his nose with a napkin, standing a little too close. "Very impressive, baby. I'll admit, that went a lot faster than I thought it would-- you seemed distracted, though."

#fangmother #roger dodger o/

[gebrochener-adler]

dietrologie​:

Perhaps one day Feliciano will let sleeping dogs lie and try to construct himself with some manner of interpersonal consideration in Roderich’s presence. This will, however, not be one of those days. He stares back, empty, until a smile creeps wider and wider over his lips. “Is that so? Allow me to kill—how many is that? Unfortunate fire, fulfilling a curse, getting under your skin—three birds with one very, very hot stone.”

And pulls out his cigarette lighter before breaking into a run to find the nearest room with a door that locks.

Roderich considers chasing after, but then again- Well, a fire that was not his fault still might scratch that particular urge. He glances about the hall with a hum before slowly trudging in the direction Feliciano had run. “Whichever place you choose, I will be pushing an armoire in front of the door before I go.” He pulls out a cigarette as his voice echoes a little in the mostly empty main room. “After all, I do have insurance” He adds, keeping a keen ear out for the sound of a door shutting so he would be well aware of where to block off. 

#dietrologie #oh god don't give him an /excuse/ to let all his possessions burn

[gebrochener-adler]

mauerfrau​:

“It might be. Would you like it better than ‘Piano Man’? That’s what I usually use for you,” she said, as if it were totally normal to have aliases for everyone so she could keep files and spies on them. She grinned widely. “Oh, but the optimistic ones are the best to mess with! It’s fun to find their breaking point. Ah, but…I guess I won’t do that to him, if you’re so keen on him. As a favor to you.”

She took a drag on her cigarette and then lowered it. She blew the smoke out through the side of her mouth. “Ah, well, that’s their job, isn’t it? To argue a lot? I’d be more worried if they were all agreeing all the time.” She chuckled a little, knowing exactly what he was referring to. “That’s good. Austria doesn’t need to have a housing crisis from arson.” There was a pause as she smoked some more. “So…did you want to get up to anything? I mean, you are in Berlin.”

“It might be more discrete, or at the very least less cliché.” He replied, gesturing vaguely before shaking his head. “Now that I would not prefer. There are hardly enough optimists and I do somewhat value the ones I have, so, I appreciate the ‘favour’.” He stood up then, rolling his ankles and causing a little pop sound as the joints settled. Taking another long inhale, he seemed to scan the edge of the park.

“I prefer when they at least have some agreement so they are not constantly asking me how to gain some imagined edge over each other. It is quite tedious.” He tapped the side of his head thoughtfully. “I suppose I could indulge until the inevitable end. Do you have any preferred places to imbibe?  I have not been to a bar or a club in this city in-” He paused, tucking his cigarette into the corner of his mouth . “Years, actually. I am almost always here for business as of late.”

#mauerfrau

[gebrochener-adler]

islandiis​:

[The blush, if he notices, Fannar gives no indication. He knows the pain of being so pale as well, after all, and knows he wouldn’t want attention called to it.] That is a good way of looking at it — the time will pass, anyway, so doing the tings we enjoy is a good way to spend it.

[He’s, admittedly, a bit surprised that Roderich would want to see what he’s working on — but not against the idea! It’s really not that remarkable, but… He sets his cup down, and flashes him a small smile.] If you’d like to take a look, you’re welcome to — it’s nothing really too remarkable. I’m only tacking things into their basic places at this point, so it’s still a bit messy.

[Rising from the table and gesturing for Roderich to follow, Fannar laughs softly - warmly - at the comment.] I’m glad you’re here! And, glad that you feel that way. I really hope you enjoy your time in Iceland.

[In the living room, right in front of the couch, is a tailor’s dummy; attached to it is the skirt of a faldbúningur. It’s a dark red, with dark green embroidery at the bottom - still pinned in places, tacked in oters, all needing to be stitched properly. But, quite beautiful, already.] This is a faldbúningur, from around the 1800s. Depending on how happy they are with my work, I may be asked to complete the rest of the outfit. It would be worn with a blouse, a bodice, and then a black embroidered jacket… and, eh, some decorative pieces, too. An apron, belt, and so on. It’s all very traditional. [He coughs into one hand, and then he shrugs.] It’s, eh, still a work in progress.

Things need not be remarkable to be impressive in their own right. [Roderich states before nodding and rising from the table. He takes his cup with him, far too reluctant to relinquish his only source of caffeine at the moment.]

[Once they are in the living room, he is quick to get fairly close to the garment, though he keeps his cup pressed close to his chest and keeps a hold of it with both hands. He does not want to risk spilling anything after all. He peers over the top of his lenses, humming in acknowledgement of Fannar’s words as he circles the dummy] The embroidery is quite lovely. Traditional clothing is always something I have admired but never created in spite of my, appreciation for Wachauer trachten [He gives a slight chuckle before straightening himself as he has been leaning in to inspect the garment] Hm, well I should hope they ask you to complete the rest of it. It is never quite the same when you switch tailors mid project. 

#islandiis

[gebrochener-adler]

fangmother​:

“Psh,” she dismisses, lifting her hand in the air between them and letting it fall limp. “Of course I’m fragile, look at how delicate my hands and weak my wrists are–” Rainer’s fingers are indeed long and slim, but her forearms are corded with ropey, lean muscle and studded with a random assortment of scars– none of them half as serious as the one on her face.

The act bores her, though, so she moves on.

The nickname draws a chuckle out of her, deciding she shouldn’t take offense to something that close to being on the nose, and her eyes alight on… well, the tough guy skinhead that brought her sniffing around this bar in the first place. She slants her gaze back to the stranger– the Austrian, judging by his accent– to take his measure, and decides: well, whatever happens should at least be funny.

“What about him?” she asks, gesturing to the man at the opposite end of the bar she’d been seated at. He’s tall, tattooed, bald, and carrying on and despairing over the football score on the television. He is also, importantly, alone. “He seems nice. You should fight him.”

“Indeed.” Roderich glances over a few of the scars along her arms with mild curiosity before turning his attention back to the matter at hand. For a moment he considers rescinding his acceptance, but he is much too curious for his own good and pain is a decent grounding force when he finds himself lost in a sea of consciousnesses that define him.  “Hm, I suppose I should have expected that.” He gives a half shrug before standing up, bracing the tips of his fingers on the table to steady himself for a moment before half muttering.  “Ik gihorta ðat seggen ðat sih urhettun ænon muotin-”  He snorts a little to himself after he says it. So much for focusing on the present. “I will return for whatever it is you were offering.” With a small rap of his knuckles on the table then, he departs for the other end of the bar.  It is not very difficult to instigate fights so long as the person one is agitating is not a pacifist, or so he has found. He decides on a classic approach for him, which is to get much too close and to simply take whatever the other person is drinking with a snide side-eye. It is of course a direct challenge ‘Do something about it’. Occasionally he has run into people who simply let him take it, but fortunately tonight he does not need to press further.  He responds with a little shrug and insincere smile at the first demand to know what he thought he was doing, which of course only escalates things.

The first hit is something he simply takes. A solid crack to the nose, but he barely even staggers back. His heel presses into the floor of the bar to keep him in place. The sharp snap of bone pulls everything into focus and he hums a little to himself as he ducks back out of reach of the second intended blow. With that, he rounds up to punch back, however only manages to get a hit in on the other man’s ribs before he feels the other try and grab the back of his jacket to pull him down. The action also pulls him closer however and affords him the opportunity to bring his elbow up and directly into the man’s solar plexus. It brings a moment of relief as the grip loosens and a choked wheeze escapes his opponent. Careful now. Using his full strength was liable to cause more damage than he intended. 

Considering that costs him another fraction of time that causes him to take another cuff to the head. His ears ring. A little siren call he is far too familiar with. Still, he has no intention of drawing this out too long. This is not a fully self destructive evening now that he has something he wants to get back to. Bracing himself once more, he waits for the other man to lunge in once again and he grabs onto his shirt. Putting a bit more effort into it, he yanks him hard to one side to send him crashing to the floor. The man’s arm hits a table hard, and he takes a moment to grab onto it as he hits the ground which gives Roderich ample opportunity to deliver a kick to the ribs. There is a satisfying crack and a shout of pain and with that he pulls back.

He pulls on his own lapels to straighten his now very rumpled suit jacket whilst looking self satisfied before he hears the bartender shouting at him. Turning around, he puts his hands up, giving an apology and the typical assurance that he would leave but also yes, he would pay for the table he just had a hand in breaking. Even as he is speaking however, he is side eyeing Rainer back across the bar, a little glint in his eye. Expectant, at the very least.

#always breaking out the old high german when he's drunk #god I haven't written a fight in ages I tried #fangmother

[gebrochener-adler]

One of Roderichs eyebrows raises up almost comically high as Immanuil speaks. "If that is what you remember, than I highly doubt it is time of origin that is the prevailing difference." A small huff escapes his nose before he takes a long drag of his cigarette, eyeing his distorted refection in the gold foil as he does so. "Our natures could be different however. It would not surprise me if whatever force responsible for our existence varies and changes depending on the multitude of factors involved." He gestures vaguely while giving a half shrug. "However I have long since given up attempting to understand it."

Pulling his mind back to the present, he cocks his head a little to one side. "I imagine appearances have something to do with why you have me out in this alley then?" The question is only half sincere. He is already fairly certain the answer is yes, though he is fairly curious what warrants needing to be out of sight.

"It must be nice to have been born in a time that allows you to believe that." A spark of envy sparkles in Immanuil's eye for a moment, while he watches Roderich fiddle with his expensive smokes. He sucks deep on his cig, holds it, and exhales with a sigh. "Or perhaps we are two different sorts of creatures! That is entirely possible. My oldest memories are of being Kiev--someone who was entirely different from myself--and of speaking to Rome--the one who's dead now, not the one in Italy--and to Greece, her mother. And I remember thinking to myself, how different we all are! These two have lived such different lives than me, and have such different relations with their people! I wanted to believe we were different species." He looked past the wall across from them, puzzling over something. "I suppose that has little to do with it these days though. It hardly matters what we think and feel, when we are so in the middle of everything. Appearances must be maintained, and it is difficult to be private these days, especially at events like this."

#thisurlislongerthanatolstoynovel

[gebrochener-adler]

You're not imagining it -- reblog notifications are broken.

Tumblr's most recent update made it so you will no longer receive notifications in your activity feed when you reblog or interact with your own posts. This is a fine idea, but it has a major issue. If you reblog a post that was originally yours from another person, neither you nor the person you reblogged from will be notified.

Let's say Person A makes a starter, and Person B reblogs it with a reply -- Person A will be notified of that reblog. Then Person A reblogs that from Person B to add their own reply -- Tumblr recognizes this as Person A interacting with their own post, so Person A won't be notified, but neither will Person B.

Considering that interaction I just described is the backbone of roleplaying on this site, this is a problem -- it means that any threads you're involved in that your partner wrote the starter for won't notify you correctly. It is incredibly easy to miss replies when this is happening.

I truly believe this was just an oversight and not done intentionally, but it should still be fixed. I have filled out a support form with staff informing them of the issue and I recommend that you do the same. Please remember to be polite! Simply explain what the issue is and why it's a problem. You can even link them to this post if you want.

In the meantime, the best method to avoid this is to @-mention your partner in replies, so that it will still show up in their activity feed no matter what. You can also use RPThreadTracker to keep an eye on your replies and make sure you don't miss anything.

[gebrochener-adler]

fangmother·:

She supposes he imagines he scraped by with whatever wealth his mommy and daddy gave him and that he likes to pretend he’s a completely self-made man, but then again… well, he’s a little self-deprecating to be one of those, isn’t he? The smile widens, briefly, flashing white teeth.

It’s one of the smoother ways she’s been rejected, honestly. She has to respect his game, considering the amount of slur that has entered his voice through the course of their brief conversation. That isn’t going to stop her from… well, being her.

Rainer puts her chin atop her fist and makes a show of humming and scanning the bar. “I see… well, if it’s a fight you want, I won’t stop you. It’d hardly be fair of you to fight me, though, wouldn’t it? I’m quite fragile, you see, but I’d like to be involved.” She pauses, and then her eyes light up. “What if I pick someone for you to fight, eh? If you can beat them, I will give you something.”

“Somehow I doubt your ah, fragility.” He replies dully before a glimmer of interest flickers in his eyes through the haze. Fights were terrible for him. They were actions in the futile course he often took to avoid thinking about himself. This logic may have usually won him over, but right now he can use a little adrenaline. “An assured mystery prize then. That does sound slightly more interesting, even if it turns out to be absolutely nothing.” He leans back in the chair, crossing his fingers over his stomach. “Well then, my fair Lindwurm. Feel free to choose.” He says, glancing about the bar himself. That nickname felt about right. She certainly seemed to fit the description of a serpent that might consume unwary travelers. “I trust you may have an impeccable eye for someone who actually would wish to.” 

#fangmother

[gebrochener-adler]

islandiis·:

That’s true. It makes what we preserve and remember feel more special, too, in a way, doesn’t it?

Well, it sounds like you’re doing a good job of it — Seventy five, that is so amazing to me! Truly. [His smile grows a little more bashful, and a blush creeps up to his cheeks.] I-I really admire musicians, you see. I think it’s such an amazing art form — And to be so proficient! You must be very proud of your skills. [The look in his eyes is earnest, and it’s clear that he really means it. Although, that bashfulness creeps up again, and Fannar rubs shyly at the nape of his neck.]

Ah, I — I’m definitely not the best tailor out there! It’s been a lot of trial-and-error, I’d say. I’ve always liked to knit, and I always did a little bit of tailoring… mostly mending fishing garments, you know, things like that. But, I think it was the early part of the 1800s when I started working on larger projects? I had, uh — I had a lot of time on my hands, and there wasn’t much I was able to do, so… I did a lot of practicing, just to keep me occupied. [He suddenly realises he may be talking too much, so he cuts himself off there, and much more sheepishly adds:] I-I definitely still knit more than I sew, but I enjoy working on projects!

[Roderich blinks, looking almost a little stunned. A large part of him had been prepared to temper himself, not receive genuine encouragement on his chosen avenue of cultural development.] It has, been a start but I am not, displeased with my efforts- 

[He clears his throat, looking off to one side. Being remarkably pale had its downsides. One being that there was a red tint to his ears now that he had no feasible way of hiding without adjusting his hair. He, settles for sipping his coffee and attempting to ignore it] 

[At least he can maybe keep the topic progressing] There is never any need to be the best, only to advance or persevere at your own pace. It is a good use of your free time. [He taps the table] You should show me at some point if you feel comfortable doing so. I will admit you have piqued my curiosity. [After another sip of his coffee, he hums] I most certainly made a decent impulse purchase on the plane ticket here it seems.  

#blushy hours #islandiis

[gebrochener-adler]

For a brief moment, Roderich looked relieved as the door opened. It was quickly replaced by his usual placid expression however and he inclined his head slightly. "Luise. My, apologies for the unexpected visit. I have been fairly busy as of late attempting to avoid, certain members of my parliament. They would no doubt start calling you if they knew I was here." As he spoke, he stepped inside whilst rubbing one side of his neck.

"They really do need to learn to make decisions without my input." He added almost absently before shaking his head. "Well, no need to apologize. After all I am imposing somewhat." Pulling off his coat, he continued. "Aside from that, I was wondering how you were. I feel I do not check in enough."

Luise just came out of the bathroom because she has bathed her dog cookie, since she has made friends with a puddle again and therefore also looked the same. She herself was therefore also quite wet and dirty because Cookie thought that it belonged to the good tone, before the bath to jump on her owner. With a sigh, she saw the freshly washed dog roll into the carpet when she heard a knock. With raised brows she looked up and thought for a moment that she had misheard, but decided to go and look aynway. With a sharp whistle she called the dogs back for a moment before she opened the door.

She would be lying if she said she wasn't more than a little surprised by the visit. "Roderich, what a surprise," she tilted her head gently and eyed him questioningly. "But it's also good to see you". A smile suddenly appeared on her face and she stepped aside to let him in. "Come on in, sorry for the mess, I was just taking care of the dogs".

#forunityandfreedom

[gebrochener-adler]

banamaak​:

News of Roderich’s visit reached Azadeh… eventually, although a bit later than she would have preferred. Thankfully, she had always been the type of woman who believed in being ‘fashionably late’. If someone told her to meet them somewhere at 4:00, that often meant she’d be out of the house by that time. She took her time in getting ready, going for something simple yet bold. Professional yet striking. When she finally arrived at the hotel, she was clad in a black turtle neck paired with a floor-length scarlet skirt adorned with black floral print, made of silk. Her hair was covered by an ivory headscarf, dotted with roses. To finish off, she wore her usual black stiletto boots and an old Prada bag. Her dark red lips and thick eyeliner immediately drew attention to her face; which was her goal all along. Wondering how next to proceed, she pulled her phone out of her bag and dialed Roderich’s number after a few seconds of scrolling through her endless list of contacts. “Roderich! Salam, Salam, how are you? I’m here in the hotel lobby. I was wondering if you’d be a dear and tell me where you are right now? I know a couple of places in Tehran where we can go and discuss business while we eat. I’m sure you’d greatly prefer that over some overpriced hotel meals.”

The phone rang, and Roderich was swift to answer whilst hushing his security detail once again. “Ah, Hallo, Azadeh, I see they finally informed you-” He trailed off as she said where she was, glancing back down the hall that led to the aforementioned room. “Standing by the elevators actually. Let me head over, and yes that sounds, satisfactory.” With that, he hung up and strolled down the hall and through a doorway into the lobby.  The lights were brighter in there, and he squinted briefly which only served to accentuate the frosty demeanor he gave off typically. 

Adorned in a fitted dark blue three piece suit, his hair slicked back, shiny black oxfords, leather driving gloves, and black spectacles perched on the end of his nose, it was clear he meant to give off a controlled and professional impression. He took a moment to dust off the tiniest bit of lint from his cuff before he spotted Azadeh out of the corner of his eye. Adjustments could wait then. There should be nothing too terribly out of place anyway. That thought reassured him before he made his way over, raising a hand in greeting.  “Guten tag. My apologies if they were somewhat late in telling you I was here.” As he spoke, he inclined his head to add to his attempts to make himself a little more polite than a last-minute guest. “They also only informed me rather late yesterday.” He scanned her up and down briefly, merely a quick flick of his gaze. “You look well.”

#banamaak

[gebrochener-adler]

mauerfrau​:

“Oh, dear me. Apologies for not using the right term, Herr Vagabond,” she said, laughing. Then she sighed and smoked for a minute as she listened to him. She nodded along. “Ah, you’ve got one in there who has a talent then. Keep him happy. Or else I might make a move on him. That was a joke,” she added before he could get too angry or suspicious. 

She sighed again and stretched her arms. Then, she hopped up onto the wall to sit next to him. “Oh, it’s been mostly the same old, same old for me. Work is hell at times, the neighbors are alright, and Ludwig is just annoying enough for me to still love him as a brother. How have you been?”

“I suppose this is the beginning of yet another alias.” Roderich said, placing his chin in his hand while exhaling slowly. He snorted a little at the thought. “You could try if you wanted. I would warn you that he is painfully optimistic. I am not entirely certain how they even thought he was suited for such serious work.” One hand waved as though to dismiss the thought as he turned his attention more towards her. 

“Indeed? I almost wish for such drudgery at this point. My politicians bicker more-so than usual lately. As such, I have been distancing myself until they decide to settle down.” He half shrugged. “At the very least, it has not affected my mood terribly so. At least, not enough for any further... incidents.” He dragged out the last word before clicking his tongue softly. Burn down one house, and everyone acted as though you were going to lose your grip any second.  

#mauerfrau

[gebrochener-adler]

//tumblr my life is hard enough without you doubling my replies//

#ooc

[gebrochener-adler]

fangmother​:

“I hardly think there’s a problem with playing to win,” she demurs, moving languidly to take the seat next to him and crossing her legs, not bothering too much about the way her skirt hikes a little further up her thighs. Rainer settles her chin on her fist and gives him a close-lipped smile. “Men who enter drinking contests know the risks they run, trust me. More fool them, for looking at you and thinking they could beat you.”

A bit rich coming from her, the woman that looks at men and decides whether or not she could chew them up and spit them out.

She watches his throat when he finishes his drink, imagines how it might look with her fingers putting dents in the pale flesh. “I make no promise either way, darling,” her voice is practically a purr, and she pushes her hair back behind her ear. “But I bet you’d like to find out, wouldn’t you?”

"If it were merely winning I were after I might be inclined to agree." Roderich drums his fingers on the table once she sits down. "As for them being fools. I am well aware I seem a wayward wealthy patron, well out of his depths or places of comfort. Often appearances are all we might have hm? I imagine even you would have trouble guessing at my experiences." At the question, he has to hold back a snort. "I can admit it inspires curiosity." An almost whimsical tone enters his voice. "However something about rejecting the interest is equally as tempting. I had impeccable plans." He taps the table. "I was here to drink a fair amount, get into a useless fight, and return to the woods for no particular reason at all." Most definitely drunk. That last drink finally seems to have cracked him. "So if I am to be dissuaded, a gamble on my evening ending with a fair bit of stress relief or an attempted robbery falls a little short." And, he is reaching for the bottle again.

#we've lost him #fangmother

[gebrochener-adler]

The compliment causes him to blink for a moment, unsure if he should be suspicious of that. "Probably" chimes a voice in his head. Nothing he is doing is particularly of note. "I believe that depends upon the matter of favor." He settles on his reply as they step outside. The moment he spots the cigarette, he holds up a hand and shakes his head briefly.

"I am rather fond of my particular brand." With that, he fishes out the shiny black case from his front pocket. He cracks it open, and pulls out a black cigarette with a gold leaf filter. Ostentatious, but he refuses to change that particular little luxury. If one were going to have an addiction, it might as well be dressed in finery. He considers the next statement carefully then. "The nature of having an individual consciousness in which I can be having this conversation whatsoever implies an ability to exist outside of political spheres. Or so I believe."

As he speaks he is a little distracted as he retrieves a silver zippo lighter from the same pocket as before and lights the cigarette.

Immanuil follows along, all to happy to let the conversation stall as long as he could manage. "Well," he says with all the weight of an old spinster about to unleash a torrent of gossip, "most people do not like to be propositioned so brazenly, even for small favors. I forget sometimes that you are a superior man, who can acknowledge friendship without such idleness."

He breaths deeply when they pass through the alley door, and tastes the acrid sweetness of the city. He taps out a cheap cigarette, and offers one to Roderich, not out of politeness, but out of habit. "I do wonder about a thing you said. outside of political catering suggests you think we can be anything other than political. Have I assumed correctly?"

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