Knives. They call to Assassins like shiny things call to a certain class of teenaged girl. Or like dark and rugged men call to hopeless romantics
Jocasta is all three of these. But mostly, it's the knife that attracts her attention, glancing at it from her table with an appreciative, if critical eye.
He smiled then, unfolding from his chair to dip a quick bow. He'd been raised with good manners after all, "And to you miss." He paused then, brow arching above the mask, head tilting, looking for all the world like a curious sparrow, "Would you care to have breakfast with me?"
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Jocasta is all three of these. But mostly, it's the knife that attracts her attention, glancing at it from her table with an appreciative, if critical eye.
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He blinked up, and it didn't take long to spot the girl, given the relative quiet of the bar. He smiled slightly, nodding a greeting.
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"Good morning, sir!"
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