You take it all away, but never give it back; and this is what you say: their lives are yellow-black

[samsara_dharma]

Out on the streets of Chicago, Karunamayee is wandering in crooked oblongs near the Kashtta Tower. She's still avoiding everyone's eyes, but she has questions to ask - she's just not sure what the best way to ask them would be. As a relative newcomer to Chicago, she missed everything going on in the Conrad Hotel basement, and this business with

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[sarkraticmethod]

The good news about the basement is that Sark can actually pace when he's feeling restless without having to resort to leaving the hotel, because apparently pacing in a controlled enviroment is preferable to wandering around outside out of boredom.

The bad news is that there just so happens to be in the same place as a certain (former) Angel of Knowledge, not that he actually has any intention of giving her anything even resembling a passing glance as he walks on by. Just a local. No interest to him, really.

Have at 'em, Dmi.

[sarkraticmethod]

"Fair point." Then again, Sark's only exposure to 'her side of the fence' was Will Tippin and, well, he was the one who helped make Tippin's life less pleasant for sticking his nose where it didn't belong, and then both of them managed to get out. Clearly, they're all just very lucky people.

"Well, whatever the general life expectancy of people in 'my corner' tends to be, I can assure you, I'll more than likely surpass it. I haven't survived this long on sheer dumb luck, after all." He's ridiculously proud of this fact. Let him have his moment, even if it bears almost no relation to anything.

It should be noted, however, that people who haven't reached thirty yet probably shouldn't use the phrase 'this long.'

[nowinprint]

"Yeah, and you're all of, what, seventeen?" Dmitri asks, but follows it up with a punch to his arm. "Eh. We're both young guns. We can have a back-race: first one to die loses. Loser has to come back from the dead and concede the point."

That makes sense. That makes all the sense.

[sarkraticmethod]

"Twenty-two." One day he's just going to stop correcting people and let them think they got their asses kicked by a teenager.. In theory. It's Sark's head, he'll think he what he likes. It doesn't help that he's making that ridiculously pouty face that makes him look all of twelve

Whatever he might have followed that up with is cut off by her punching his arm. He tenses, and then realizes she's not actually trying to attack him and relaxes again- normal social behavior, Sark has no concept of it.

"Of course. Good luck with that." Spoken in the tone of someone who thinks that the person they've been talking to may have just turned into a lunatic at random.

He's just going to... Edge off now in a slow, very discreet manner.

[nowinprint]

Dmitri chuckles. "Yep. Everyone's baby brother. 'cept April, but that goes without saying. Well, you've got that look on yur face like someone just insinuated Syd was your girlfriend, so I'll let you scuttle off and do whatever an uneasy Sark does in the middle of the day. See out out and around, mein Frettchen."

She gives him a little wave as she continues down the hall.