(Untitled)

[arch_messenger]

Michael sits at a table in the bar without food or drink. He's flipping through a rather large and ancient bible.

On the table is a red pen. He intends to use it.

Anyone nearby will hear Michael's laugh on occasion. Quite a few sound rather suspiciously like a snort.

The red pen gets used to circle or underline, though--it should be noted--never to

Comments

[ushouldcwhatic]

That red pen was a familiar sight to anybody who's ever been in the teaching industry, or anybody who had seen the result of the marks from such pens on their papers.

So a man sitting nearby glanced over, and remarked, "Grading something?"

[arch_messenger]

Michael looks over, eyebrows raised.

He shifts the bible so that the man can see the cover.

He doesn't say not exactly. But somehow the message gets across.

[ushouldcwhatic]

Of course John recognized it. His mother believed it in more. He didn't. He was a man of science, not of faith. Even with his abilities, he just felt it was something science didn't quite have all the answers. But will. Eventually.

"Sorry, saw the red pen. Thought maybe you were a teacher as well."

[arch_messenger]

"Do you often use a red pen in ancient bibles?" Pause. Single laugh. "Do you often use a bible as a teaching tool?"

Michael can remove red pen any time he likes.

Michael neglects to remember that a lot of people do--in fact--use bibles to make a point. Or maybe he knows more about modern society than he sometimes seems to.

[shadowsfound]

Kevin's on his way upstairs, the sound of the man's laugh making him
glance in Michael's direction.
He watches for a second. A crooked smile crosses his face at
the sight of the bible.

[arch_messenger]

Michael circles a word with the pen which he then puts on the table.
He then cracks his knuckles loudly, facetiously. And then, he looks Kevin’s way. He’s good at feeling eyes on him, like many in this place really.

[shadowsfound]

Kevin looks back, and asks simply, curious, "Marking out what you think is right, or what's wrong?"
Why, no, it isn't any of his business. That won't stop him from asking. It just means he won't get pissy about it if Michael tells him where to get off.

[arch_messenger]

“What’s wrong,” Michael tells him. “Though with this particular copy, it’d been faster if I had been marking out what’s right.”

[kinshou_kitsune]

Books, let alone Bibles, or pens such as what Michael has are not as popular in her time than in modern days. The laughter is universal as the kami watches the other being with perked curiosity. Inari takes a small drink of her tea as eyes that are to bright blue watch Michael's every move.

"Have the Tricksters tales been preserved in writing now?" she asks in a soft yet carrying voice, "Or is it something else?"

[arch_messenger]

Michael's attention shifts to Inari in a motion that seems surprised. He hadn't noticed her. He watches her after she's spoken, as if waiting for something to be made clear.

He doesn't know what to make of her.

Clearing his throat, he says, "Something else. Tricksters are in small numbers in this," lifting the bible, "and are very much not the focus on the whole." His eyes remain on her, staring.

[kinshou_kitsune]

"Oh," the kitsune kami says thoughtfully, pondering something over her steaming cup of green tea before the warmest of smiles spreads across her face. "Then what is it? Poetry?"

Michael is eyed too with her eyes that are just to blue for any real human. Something in the back of her mind tickles a little- soft of like the hair back the back of your neck standing up slightly. He, by far, isn't like the other people in the bar.