So, how does one train an anti-mage? That was the question John was faced with on Sunday. Of course, the easy answer was to just continue what he had been doing, fill up the Soulpotion and then give it to her, but that didn’t feel quite right. Another way to co to an answer was to ask the person who knew all about it.
“Well, well, well,” said the suit wearing corporate suit, disguise for a certain god, who was the person in question and also an unbearable weasel. “If it isn’t John Newman coming here to molest my soldier again.”
“I take issue with nurous things in that statent, most of all calling her a soldier. How do you feel about him calling you that way, Nia?” John asked, turning away from the god sitting on his table in front of the small café.
“Indifferent,” Nia stated with a look on her face that could only be described by that sa word. A mont later, filled with the Horned Rat pulling the lid of today's basket of adorable critters, there was a wondrous glint in her eyes, or at least John imagined seeing it there despite her facial features not shifting whatsoever.
John couldn’t really explain it, but as ti went on and the extrely subtle signs of her emotions moved to the back of his head, he was gradually becoming able to read the blank blonde. Granted, that was largely thanks to his high Wisdom. The only other people that were able to regularly make sense out of Nia’s behavioural patterns were Lydia (who was good at reading people in the first place) and Momo (who was an emotional support just as much as a combat one).
Rave also sowhat understood the pariah, but that was more of a case of John’s girlfriend being an extrely sociable person who didn’t care that much as long as she could keep so sort of conversation going.
“Is this a date?” Nia suddenly asked, looking at John with a quizzically tilted head and reminding him that he hadn’t completely figured her out yet. The question ca out of literally nowhere.
“More or less… did you brood over that since yesterday?” ca his response.
Nia nodded.
Could this girl be more socially inept if she tried? Incredibly doubtful. Although that did make her kind of adorable. John had no ti to say anything on the matter since the Horned Rat reached into the basket and pulled out the cuteness of the day.
It was a small, puffy, chinchilla-esque thing with golden fur. The Horned Rat was holding it by the back of the neck, but still, the small mouse seed more curious than terrified. Imdiately smitten, Nia bolted forwards only to be stopped by Richard.
The index finger of his free hand fixated on her forehead, the other holding the chinchilla out of reach, he kept the blank at bay. In turn, Nia was helplessly waving her arms at the cute little thing while making miserable noises John would have more closely associated with a rubber duck than a fully-grown woman.
“We have done this before,” the Horned Rat smiled with schadenfreude. “As a matter of fact, we have done this every day. Do you not learn?”
Nia stopped in her struggle and took a step back. Her expression stayed vacant, but her hair seed to lose volu as she answered with a factual, “They are cute.”
“Yes, so cute I could just eat them,” Richard said and went through the sa motivational routine as last ti. As that scene unfolded, John got distracted by a window.
“I am here, I am here, but I won’t be for loooong,” the incarnation of sadism said and dancing walked over to Nia, short skirt fanning out wide; “Let’s get this party started!” and like that the blonde already had four scratches running over her collarbone, barely even able to react.
User Comments
0 comments from readers