Re: The Cat: Rae and Kratos
A Thracian. Rae revised her estimate of his age, added a century or so on the end. She'd no desire to hear her voice, she could hear it any time she liked. It seemed the man-mountain was more willing to talk than she'd presumed. A brother who was, she estimated, long since dead - not through gift, as hers didn't surrender names and deaths in bloody combat if it went back so far but through the choice to wear his marks as Kratos's own.
"You chose to do it anyway. A different sort of honor, I suppose." Rae kept her composure on her seat. One of the television-crowd had glanced her way - commercial break, possibly, she wasn't paying attention to anything but background chatter, and she declined to move. She regarded his glass, "I prefer mine neat. I prefer most things neat."
He made the noise she was all too familiar with from the shop. "We're not related." This was the explanation in its totality. They were proximate, but their family trees weren't tangled, not truly. Roots and branches grew separately, Nel's tangled around her brothers, that much Rae knew from a distance.
"So what are you?" In perfect, ancient Greek. Rae said it as if she'd asked him for his cell number, or perhaps something other beguiling nothing.