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[DOKTÈ]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]For the most part, Doktè couldn't say he gave a damn about the lives people left behind them. Everybody had a story, and everyone had chapters that overlapped with each other; at this point, after sticking his paws in so many wounds, listening to so many delirious confessions and the rambling of concerned loved ones, he'd heard just about every awful foundation to a life there was. Father left home when they were young, or their parents were dead, or maybe they never even knew them and were abandoned. There were people who quarreled with their family, those who loved them and lost them, those who did neither, those who had one or the other, and- the point was, lives weren't altogether complex when it came down to it. Love, loss, pain, death. Formulaic. Rinse and repeat. Times were shit, people adapted, times worsened, and people adapted again. Doktè's job wasn't to pick apart people's minds to try and get them over whatever shit they were lugging with him; his job was to make sure they could get back up on their feet to do that themselves.

But he wasn't a miracle-worker, nor was he an exception to that aforementioned ruthless cycle. The ring dangling around his neck was far heavier now than it had been when he gave it away several years ago, but he was still standing, because it was either that or quit, and Lisette wouldn't have wanted that.

Would've been nice if he could've avoided the devil he walked with. Whether or not the cinnamon-white lion was a demon didn't change that he was an imp, although Doktè lit a bit of sage whenever he had some time alone, just in case. He couldn't exactly hang a mirror up -so the stories went about the devil's vanity- but the worst part about everything was that he didn't mind Theo as much as he seemed to. He was an insufferable flirt, never really knew when to stop talking, and managed to get Doktè speaking about himself, so in sum, he was incorrigible yet interesting.

The lion had hoped he might have ditched Doktè a while back, but here they were, Doktè trailing slightly behind as Theo wandered ahead. For the time being, there was silence, apart from Doktè's occasional mutter. Of course, it couldn't last forever, and when they came to what he assumed was this group's entrance, Theo turned to him with that look of his, all inquisitive and soft with that shadow of cunning that had Doktè name him a demon the first time they met. His ears turned, and he exhaled, about to reply with a somewhat genuine answer when a canine showed his face, locking Doktè's jaw.

He couldn't say he liked this person either, although he rarely did, not out and about in the world. Mahogany eyes narrowed at the comment, which seemed friendly enough for Doktè to know it wasn't. He wasn't one for insincere pleasantries, not on either end; he'd rather someone speak their mind than play polite, but it didn't matter. There wasn't anything to intrude on. "Nothing but a rahdoht."[sup]1[/sup] The lion's broad shoulders lifted into a shrug, before his nose wrinkled, and his gaze turned over to Theo. "Gah-dey-dawn, couillon, you take me to the brightest people."[sup]2[/sup]

//
1. Rahdoht is a boring conversation
2. Gah-dey-dawn = would you look at that. Couillon is idiot.

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