Before I decide what I want to do with this stranger and how I intend to go about it I have to remind myself that most people in this world lack a sense of scale. In truth I do not always fully appreciate scale, though over the last year of my meteoric rise to fame, power, and wealth – I have come to finally begin to grasp what true scale is. It is always fascinating when I have impromptu lessons on true scale. A lot of people, especially men like this Miqo clinging to my arm, can't count to a million or even comprehend the enormity of that number. The proof is obvious most days, ask a person on the street what they could do with a million gil and if they manage to speak a word its usually along the lines of 'I don't know'.
This man is hanging onto my left arm and holding surprisingly tight. With a defeated sigh I look down at him and take a seat back in my bar stool, sitting on it sideways to regard him face to face. He begins to almost purr out to me giving an air of satisfaction, his eyes smiling equally with the rest of his frame as his ears are happily twitching atop his head. He feels he has dominated me, at least that’s the read I get from him, especially after he makes a show of releasing my arm as if he had the strength to pull it off somehow. As he does this I roll my eyes only enough to appear as if I am relieved as I knock on the bar once, grabbing the fresh but familiar barmaid that is taking Momodi's place for now. I make eye contact with her, gesturing with two fingers to indicate my usual alcoholic drink so that this gentlemen and I may share a one.
With one sharp inhale through my nose and a curt exhale from my mouth I ask the man simply “Who are you, and what do you want?†I am firm, and there is no tone of submission.
The man in his ridiculous sounding purr lets me hear some of this heavy accent, a tribal inflection as he rolls his words “Mmmmm my name is K'lo Nunh. Maybe you forgot mmm, but I asked you a question of my own. Now I shall ask you two questions. What kind of a man wears pink, and what is your name you bald, pale freak.†He makes it a point to really enunciate that word 'freak', a shame. I lean to the side a bit, propping my left elbow on the bar as I sit and relax a little keeping him the center of my world.
“Well K'lo, my name is Otto Vann. I wear a pink suit because I like the color and I find it befitting to myself and my personality, soft and eye-catching.†I would say more but we are interrupted by the cheery barmaid as she slides us a glass each of whisky. Nothing special about it at all, though I do wish I had some of my medicine to put in it right now.
“Anyways, you know my name and you now are privy as to why I wear this fine suit, a suit I made myself...†Instantly I know as soon as I say this he is going to pounce and further insult me. If am so bold as so to share extraneous information with him like the fact that I tailored my own suit, he is going to try and push the envelope further and remind me that he is in charge now. If I couldn't read him backwards and forwards I may enjoy someone with enough bravado to touch me but this man will undoubtedly prove to be a simple bully.
Sure enough he cuts me off, “Did I ask you who made it bald-man? Mmm...†is all he says as he trails his words off and takes the drink set in front of me by the barmaid.. He swirls it once before knocking it back, unceremoniously swallowing it all in one gulp as he slams the glass back on the bar. He wastes no time in taking his drink, and holding it again to sniff it. This time though he makes a point to swirl it several times, taking a small sip from it as he gently sets his glass down to match my gaze “Thank you for the drinks bald-man Otto. You asked me what do I want, mmm I wanted a drink that is all. Why else would I come to a bar eh?†He finally looks away from me for a moment as he shakes his head, muttering “Stupid hyurâ€.
At this point I've tolerated him enough. I match his gaze, keeping a genuine curiosity as I look him over one last time. I know little of this race, I can't tell if he is a 'Keeper' or a 'Seeker'. He has the surname of Nunh and if I recollect this means he is used by the women of his tribe for mating purposes. He is also small, maybe sitting at a proud 66 ilms at the most and if he is lucky weighing in at 140 ponz. Truthfully there isn't a lot for me to go off. I'm a giant compared to him and I am positive I could snatch the life out of him with ease if I wanted to but I'm just not that kind of man most days. Besides the lovely Coatleque Crofte is still on patrol at her pillar. I don’t think I would mind her putting me in handcuffs but I would rather that happen later in the day. All the same I have people to do, things to see, and places to be. I have no time for games with half-men.
[To be continued...]
This man is hanging onto my left arm and holding surprisingly tight. With a defeated sigh I look down at him and take a seat back in my bar stool, sitting on it sideways to regard him face to face. He begins to almost purr out to me giving an air of satisfaction, his eyes smiling equally with the rest of his frame as his ears are happily twitching atop his head. He feels he has dominated me, at least that’s the read I get from him, especially after he makes a show of releasing my arm as if he had the strength to pull it off somehow. As he does this I roll my eyes only enough to appear as if I am relieved as I knock on the bar once, grabbing the fresh but familiar barmaid that is taking Momodi's place for now. I make eye contact with her, gesturing with two fingers to indicate my usual alcoholic drink so that this gentlemen and I may share a one.
With one sharp inhale through my nose and a curt exhale from my mouth I ask the man simply “Who are you, and what do you want?†I am firm, and there is no tone of submission.
The man in his ridiculous sounding purr lets me hear some of this heavy accent, a tribal inflection as he rolls his words “Mmmmm my name is K'lo Nunh. Maybe you forgot mmm, but I asked you a question of my own. Now I shall ask you two questions. What kind of a man wears pink, and what is your name you bald, pale freak.†He makes it a point to really enunciate that word 'freak', a shame. I lean to the side a bit, propping my left elbow on the bar as I sit and relax a little keeping him the center of my world.
“Well K'lo, my name is Otto Vann. I wear a pink suit because I like the color and I find it befitting to myself and my personality, soft and eye-catching.†I would say more but we are interrupted by the cheery barmaid as she slides us a glass each of whisky. Nothing special about it at all, though I do wish I had some of my medicine to put in it right now.
“Anyways, you know my name and you now are privy as to why I wear this fine suit, a suit I made myself...†Instantly I know as soon as I say this he is going to pounce and further insult me. If am so bold as so to share extraneous information with him like the fact that I tailored my own suit, he is going to try and push the envelope further and remind me that he is in charge now. If I couldn't read him backwards and forwards I may enjoy someone with enough bravado to touch me but this man will undoubtedly prove to be a simple bully.
Sure enough he cuts me off, “Did I ask you who made it bald-man? Mmm...†is all he says as he trails his words off and takes the drink set in front of me by the barmaid.. He swirls it once before knocking it back, unceremoniously swallowing it all in one gulp as he slams the glass back on the bar. He wastes no time in taking his drink, and holding it again to sniff it. This time though he makes a point to swirl it several times, taking a small sip from it as he gently sets his glass down to match my gaze “Thank you for the drinks bald-man Otto. You asked me what do I want, mmm I wanted a drink that is all. Why else would I come to a bar eh?†He finally looks away from me for a moment as he shakes his head, muttering “Stupid hyurâ€.
At this point I've tolerated him enough. I match his gaze, keeping a genuine curiosity as I look him over one last time. I know little of this race, I can't tell if he is a 'Keeper' or a 'Seeker'. He has the surname of Nunh and if I recollect this means he is used by the women of his tribe for mating purposes. He is also small, maybe sitting at a proud 66 ilms at the most and if he is lucky weighing in at 140 ponz. Truthfully there isn't a lot for me to go off. I'm a giant compared to him and I am positive I could snatch the life out of him with ease if I wanted to but I'm just not that kind of man most days. Besides the lovely Coatleque Crofte is still on patrol at her pillar. I don’t think I would mind her putting me in handcuffs but I would rather that happen later in the day. All the same I have people to do, things to see, and places to be. I have no time for games with half-men.
[To be continued...]
