What does your character think of the character a-

The Conductor is quick to narrow his eyes at Isolde, the being observing the seemingly-mundane woman, although he is quick to note that something here is off (he would know from experience, after all). Distinctly so, and so he opens his senses.

The answer to his question comes quickly, and his lips pull back into a mild sneer, any interest popping like a bubble. So much for being a potential subject of interest, he can't help but think, sighing and turning away.

Something makes him pull back, somewhat. Only a little, really. A faint nudge to make him turn his head and observe her, but now in a far more... intricate manner, reaching out into the weave to read the things etched into the threads, and that is when some of his interest returns. He is aware that she would make a rather poor participant, especially not with what she is, but much like any researcher, he does want to know more: to pull into that skin and take it apart to see what is inside. He's only been able to afford himself a small glimpse, and now he craves more.

A direct confrontation would not be ideal, but he can make do. He beckons with a clawed hand, and the shadows around him gather, patiently awaiting his orders, and he smiles at them, as he knows what he will be doing for the meantime.

Then perhaps, just perhaps... she may come and face him herself, and isn't that quite an exciting affair?

OH GOD. OH GOD OH FUCK

RUN, LEON. RUN AS FAR AWAY AS POSSIBLE

          Flavio supposed that when a person was at rock bottom, abandoned by those they were meant to look up to, it was difficult to... well, not want something more, and thus to be influenced by desire. In that way, he pitied the other man.

         In another way, he was disgusted. No matter where he went, however, he knew that someone's vanity would always shine through. He studied Leon, quiet, uncertain, for when that someone was surrounded by darkness, it was difficult to read past the surface layer. Maybe Flavio hoped that he would find a light deep down in the abyss, but he realized little such luck. Maybe that was what Leon deserved. Maybe it wasn't. But without that light, what else was there to care for? He was a thief, a poacher of artifacts, almost pitiable -- but Flavio bit his tongue and swallowed his words. It wasn't worth it to get emotionally involved, so when he did finally speak, he did so simply.

         "You've so many bits and bobbles that it seems like it'd be hard for you to keep up with them." he said, and then looked back at Leon, searching his face for something, "Isn't it a pain? What do you even need all this stuff for? ..Are you a hoarder?"

         Yeah. That was totally it.

..Spoiled for victorian old-time drugs 👍

HHH AAAHHHAHHA V

     Roy offered a half-wave when he approached J. "Hey, it's good to see you. Again? Uh, I don't know. Do you know if we've met before? Or maybe you met someone like me? Ah, don't worry about it. I'm new to the job so I'm trying to make the rounds my predecessor used to." Sharing vague memories also made things difficult. But J seemed familiar for sure. The longer Roy tried to figure it out, the more the shadows showed him what they had seen. Gradually, understanding and sympathy crossed his face.

     "You know, you remind me a little of myself years ago," Roy started while searching for a place to sit. "I was an outcast. Guess why." He pointed at his hair then sighed, "That's right, shadow powers." He paused and gauged her reaction before ending up laughing himself. "I'm kidding! I didn't have those powers yet. I was an outcast because of my hair. And, well, because I was a foster kid. Made me irrationally angry. I acted out. Then, suddenly, fast forward twenty years and I'm plopped down on a throne and told I get to determine an entire country's fate-- a country whose language I didn't even know, mind you.
     "Now, I'm not saying all this to flex or anything. Just... I get it. I get how crushing all that pressure can be, especially when you're made to believe you shouldn't even be around. It's isolating and suffocating, isn't it? Makes you feel less than worthless." He continued to smile. "But you've shined, haven't you? Climbed your way out of that darkness and found a path. It might not be a yellow brick road, but it's a path and one you can follow."
     His smile turned sad. "If only my friend could have as strong a willpower as yours."

ramyune Hai :D

Illanya is doing her damnedest to be patient with her latest charge, it's a knight's job to be a stoic protector after all. Unfazed by whatever can be thrown at her. Maybe her first mistake was assuming a blind woman would be an easy job... or maybe it was thinking any favor Ren asked of her would be easy. 

Either way, whether Irene can tell it or not, Illanya is counting the intervals between each breath, an attempt in vain to keep herself from blowing up on the woman. It's not like it would help anything either way, most of the day's irritation had been sourced by Irene's tendency to wander right into trouble and danger, all the while smiling and cheerful. Illanya couldn't be certain if this was being done on purpose, or just simply a result of Miss Matignon-Yin's blindness. 

The normally composed knight was at her wit's end, and it was hardly through the day this time. The situation at the bathhouse had only further frayed what nerves she had left. It's only as Irene stumbles past Illanya, smacking her with the cane in the stomach whilst walking right towards the busy street that the knight feels something snap. At that moment, any composed and normal reaction is thrown out the window as the knight lets out a pained grunt from the impact. 

Instead of the worried and almost doting fashion Illanya had used when guiding Irene back into the bathhouse when the other had walked out entirely naked, the knight instead grabs Irene's arm and hauls her back out of the street. It's a quick and startling motion, not enough to harm in any capacity, but more akin to the way a parent might suddenly yank a child from harm's way. Maybe it was the fear mixed with frustration, that gave the knight an alarmingly wild look as she scowled at Irene. 

It takes Illanya a moment to formulate words amid her emotions, during which she lets go of Irene but holds out an arm to escort her further, insistent on it until the woman accepts. Finally, the paladin has a moment to catch her breath, and apparently her words.

"Miss Matignon-Yin, I hope you understand I mean this as kindly as I can put this," The way her voice quivers as she speaks is telling of Illanya's internal struggle to word this in a way that wasn't wild shouting. "But, I have never met a single person on this earth who lacks as much survival instincts and awareness for your surroundings on a level that is beyond physical, as you do." The knight says as they walk, Illanya remaining watchful of their environment as she speaks. She purses her lips as the worst of it is off of her chest and hanging in the air. Some of the paladin's anger goes with it too and she sighs. 

"I don't think it's entirely a bad thing if I'm honest. It's risks that often bear great rewards, after all. I'm sure that you'd know that more than anyone with you being in the casino business and all that." Illanya admits with a hum, before that sternness returns, 

"But please, for my sanity here, can you exercise a little more caution when you're out and about? I get wanting to experience everything and all that," The knight considers some of the odd requests of the day and smiles, but it's a thing weakened by her continued frustration. "But, if you get trampled or something, there's not much you can experience aside from the ground." Illanya chuckles weakly at her attempt to joke, though as she does so, she seems to remember some form of propriety.

"Ahem, respectfully, of course... That's just my view of it."

Jericho eyed Illanya with interest, feeling a mixture of thoughts as the two approached each other. Everyone in this place had some sort of shell around them, a sort of bubble that bounced everything back. It didn't help that they were quite rude too, or just couldn't seem to give him the time of day to tell him the locations he needed to go on the visit. However, this woman was different. She carried herself in a much different way than the others and actually seemed to smile a genuine smile. He still sensed a bubble, so to speak, but he assumed if he wasn't too personal and stayed on her good side, then it wouldn't be much of an issue. Besides, the other few times they'd met, she was pleasant company. However, he knew something was hidden beneath the surface; anxiety about something and another he couldn't quite put his finger on. He didn't exactly want to know, but he wondered what it could be; it was intriguing, what could she be pushing down away from the surface? He was happy he felt he could be pretty casual with her too, and not be a kiss-ass to all the other guards and knights.

"Hey, Illanya, what's going on." He smiled. "I got a proposition for you. You're a knight, so you've obviously got skill with swords and such. I bought my own blade yesterday and I wanted to get familiar with it. Would you be good for some sparring sometime? I may not have much in the way of sword skill, but I am versed in fighting in general, so I think it could be a good time. Who knows, maybe I'll be a natural, huh?"

While he was genuine, he really just wanted to see how good she was as a whole. He respected any fighter, but he wanted to see how much of a fighter she was. Both because he was just simply bored and wanted to have some sparring, and so he could possibly get a better read on her. Whatever the case, he thought she was good company and wanted to interact more, get to know her, and respected her profession greatly. Once their match was over, he'd be able to decide if she'd be someone he'd want to watch his back or not. Of course, if she accepted, that would have been fine too.

Ah, a somewhat interesting being, Akeirkos first thinks when his eyes alight on Jericho, the Dreamweaver having arrived earlier in a flurry of shimmering, iridescent lights, and now he peers at the hybrid (yes, that is the simplest way to describe him, isn't it?). Perhaps it is cheating to look into him in this way, but Akeirkos wishes to know a bit more about Jericho, and checking comes to the Dreamweaver as easy as breathing, and so he does. And there the answers for him unfold.

Someone similar to Slythos, is the next thought that comes to Akeirkos, this time, and something akin to an amused smile plays at his lips, because they really share a number of similarities. Prone to brooding, particularly sarcastic and with quite the number of bones to pick? The Dreamweaver can't help but suspect that these two will face two potential extremes should they meet: an incredible camaraderie, or the bitterest of rivalries, with little room for something in the middle. Perhaps they could band together and take down a common enemy. Perhaps they will attempt to tear one another apart, and Akeirkos would find that incredibly amusing to watch. From a distance, at least. He'd rather not have to potentially dirty his clothes because the two dark-themed beings decided to scuffle, even if he wants to see how Jericho would fare with Slythos, regardless of whether it ends peacefully or violently.

Alas, the gun-for-hire will have to settle for him, for now.

But, considering that he can call to his counterpart at some point, he supposes he can knock a domino or two into the fray. He raises his head and nods towards Jericho, his expression soft and voice sweet. "I wonder, Jericho... do you prefer a Dreamweaver, or a Dreameater?"

v oh my GOD. OH GOD OF THE PEOPLE HE'D REMIND HER OF, HOLY SHIT I-

THERE ARE NO WORDS

"You- honestly, you terrify me,"

He wasn't an AI. That was something he insisted on- no matter the body, he was still a demon. His life energy was running through wires, not veins, but it still wasn't electricity. With some AI, he forgot that- was there a real difference, really?- but with Dal, he felt as far from an AI as possible. 

Or, at least, he wanted to be. Because, Lucifer below, being subject to her programming seemed like a fate worse than death. 

He didn't have any software in him, but the possibility of being hacked clawed at him every time he looked at her face. The thought of everlasting, constant, contentment would have made bile pool in his throat if he still had a stomach. Not being able to be gentle in this body hurt, but the idea of the opposite was so much worse. 

He wanted to yell, he wanted to ask where her fucking rage was, but he knew where it was- locked away by firewalls and code. 

He took a sharp inhale, and backed away. In the end, this wasn't even her fault- it was the fault of whoever the hell shaped her wires.

"Listen, you're a nice dude, but I don't know if I can get behind all that enjoying violence crap!" Dakota was shaking his head in what seemed to be dissapointed. "I mean, you run around here, dance with my brother, have a good time, you seem to be a decently loyal and honest guy but this whole time you're some- well I don't even know!" Despite the obvious age gap here, Dakota was scolding the Knight as if he was a dad saying 'i'm not mad, just disappointed' 

In the end, Dakota still sees some good in the guy in front of him, even though thats probably a horribly misinformed decision. Despite this, there was no way Dakota was underestimating the 8'0 literal demon he was staring at, he knew that a wrong step here could definitely end up horrific for him. 

But. Would it really though? I mean, isn't it kind of rude to assume just because he's a demon he'll kill anyone in his sight? what if hes actually pretty cool? what if he just happens to enjoy violence- but he only kills when its justified? Would he even be letting Dakota stand here and practically talk down to him if he was really such a bad guy? 

At some point, Dakota realizes he's comparing the Knight to his brother. They've gotten along in the past, maybe they're similar? He's clearly distracted at this point- lost in his weak analysis of both Michael and the Knight, his thoughts crossing and twisting until he's just thought himself into a confusion.

He glances up and remembers he's in the middle of talking to someone, his eyes now clouded a bit and his voice just a tick quieter, he asks a question. 

"What are your morals, exactly?" 

"Now let's get a real look at you!"

The Oddity spun a short circle around the cowboy, their disk spinning a contemplative cycle on their face as they considered the person in front of them. Humanoid, definitely— maybe even entirely human, the longer they considered it. Humans themselves weren't all too common for BEATOPHONE to encounter, being more akin to discovering a needle in a hay stack. The thought makes the Oddity guffaw to himself— hay stack, cowboy. Sheesh, BEATOPHONE impresses himself.

Their physical analysis is short-lived, sliding to an abrupt stop right in the cowboy's line of sight. Heels balanced with a precision as they leaned forward, slotting one hand beneath their... chin? In thought.

"..Yeesh. Really living up to that gun-toting, horse-riding aesthetic, huh? That's cool, that's cool— the dolls and fellas seem to dig it. Bet'cha have to beat them off with a stick! Or... a pitchfork, maybe?" BEATOPHONE cawed, leaning back to right themselves with a self-assured grin on his face. "Shame oh shame you've settled down a tiny bit. You and me? We could make it big in the bad-guy fighting, crime-stopping, show-stopping industry!" The Oddity held an arm out in front of himself, flexing a muscle for show.

It really was a shame— the vigilante could always use another helping hand in that whole justice-pursuing endeavor. But, hey, if some people wanna lean back and let a new hero take the scene... now, who's BEATOPHONE to deny that? 

With a small tsk, the Oddity turned on his heel. "No cryin'over spilt milk, though. If you wanna step out of the limelight, I'm more than happy to go ahead and step on in it. Just watch your back, ay? Slip up one too many times.." The vigilante turned their body enough to show an action to Dakota— curling one hand into a fist to abruptly punch against their flat palm. "..And someone or another is gonna catch ya." BEATOPHONE grinned, wide and shiny— before finally making their exit with an over-the-shoulder comment of "Toodle-oo!"