07-16-2018, 05:19 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 45%; text-align: justify; font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: verdana;"]♦ — something marko didn't let many people know would be that his memory was exceptionally poor. not "can't even remember what he had for breakfast" poor, but bad enough that he had to put a lot of effort into remembering things. including other people's names, for example, so when the woman told him her name, marko mumbled it under his breath a few times to get it to stick. it wasn't his proudest habit, but it was necessary at times.
luckily, calibe's worries of weaponry weren't exactly true. all he had on him that could be considered weaponry would be a switchblade and a key. well, and his fangs, but did those count if he couldn't exactly get rid of them? not like it mattered in the slightest; marko knew how to be diplomatic when he needed to be, although his comfort zone was moreso in terms of partying and riding his motorcycle as fast as he could get it to go.
all of that was besides the point, though, because any thoughts of keeping his brain in check disappeared upon her next statement.
marko retracted his hand and cupped his mouth with it, trying to hold back laughter. he didn't laugh like normal people, his quiet laughter being about equivalent to other people's reactions to the funniest of jokes. he pulled his knees up to his chest and settled his forehead on them, still attempting to stifle himself.
"i'm not, calibe," he replied after getting himself under control, subdued to just a chuckle and grin. "been 'round creado for some-odd 15 years, maybe? been through a fuckin' tsunami. the place bein' destroyed." okay, it was a bit of a lie saying he managed to subdue himself. "'here' is referring to the town, baby." he moved his hand to his cheek, feeling a bit more conniving than before. maybe he just didn't get many opportunities to be a bit of a jerk, and would take them as they came.
for reference, marko next settled his hand under his chin, then on the table when he realized his fingers were regaining feeling after a while in the sun, and that they were a bit raw and, uh, burnt. he supposed that was what one should expect, being a vampire and hanging out during the day while wearing fingerless gloves. it made perfect sense, in fact. "so, calibe, why're you checkin' in on my little town? here for the ghost stories?"
marko knew tourists well, and while she didn't look like it, he couldn't immediately rule out that she was just there for a scary, run down boardwalk.
luckily, calibe's worries of weaponry weren't exactly true. all he had on him that could be considered weaponry would be a switchblade and a key. well, and his fangs, but did those count if he couldn't exactly get rid of them? not like it mattered in the slightest; marko knew how to be diplomatic when he needed to be, although his comfort zone was moreso in terms of partying and riding his motorcycle as fast as he could get it to go.
all of that was besides the point, though, because any thoughts of keeping his brain in check disappeared upon her next statement.
marko retracted his hand and cupped his mouth with it, trying to hold back laughter. he didn't laugh like normal people, his quiet laughter being about equivalent to other people's reactions to the funniest of jokes. he pulled his knees up to his chest and settled his forehead on them, still attempting to stifle himself.
"i'm not, calibe," he replied after getting himself under control, subdued to just a chuckle and grin. "been 'round creado for some-odd 15 years, maybe? been through a fuckin' tsunami. the place bein' destroyed." okay, it was a bit of a lie saying he managed to subdue himself. "'here' is referring to the town, baby." he moved his hand to his cheek, feeling a bit more conniving than before. maybe he just didn't get many opportunities to be a bit of a jerk, and would take them as they came.
for reference, marko next settled his hand under his chin, then on the table when he realized his fingers were regaining feeling after a while in the sun, and that they were a bit raw and, uh, burnt. he supposed that was what one should expect, being a vampire and hanging out during the day while wearing fingerless gloves. it made perfect sense, in fact. "so, calibe, why're you checkin' in on my little town? here for the ghost stories?"
marko knew tourists well, and while she didn't look like it, he couldn't immediately rule out that she was just there for a scary, run down boardwalk.
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[color=lightcoral]♦ ♦ ♦ DON'T YOU LOSE MY NUMBER