Getting some sun Who: Jasmin, Fay (NPC), and OPEN When: Late afternoon Where: At the park
Do you want a vitamin D deficiency? Stop setting a bad example. Get out of my hair for ten minutes, you angry midget! Jasmin was still smarting from his loss at the "stop being a nocturnal hermit" summit after lunch. His stance of being deathly pale, that there were demons out there, and a confused claim of reverse seasonal effective disorder had been met with decided disdain on Annette's part. At least he'd been able to grab Fay. If he had to suffer, so did she. Besides, she'd been going a little stir-crazy between her father's flair-up of protectiveness in the face of the demon attacks and not having anywhere she knew to go in their new home. At least this way he could keep a close eye on his little girl with a reasonable excuse. They'd decided on the park a few blocks away. Fayina was still young enough to appreciate swings without feeling silly, and Annette could hardly claim Jasmin hadn't obeyed her injunction if he went to a park.
So here they were. Jasmin found a bench reasonably near the park, far enough off that he wasn't breathing down poor Fay's neck but close enough to react quickly should a demon appear (unlikely, but possible, and he was a father). He was armed, as usual, and his little bit of black magic was enough for most defensive purposes. He'd slathered on the sun screen so thick there was a white sheen in places, but there was still far too much light for his paper-white complexion and weak eyes. He needed to get a pair of those glasses that changed into sunglasses upon exposure to too much light. Maybe next time he needed his prescription changed. Normally he'd have worn sunglasses and damn his vision, but he'd brought a book and didn't really need to embarrass Fay by bumping into things.
He settled back on the bench and opened his book, a graying, taped, and generally decrepit copy of Le Petit Prince he'd owned since he was twelve. He read it once per month on average without giving any thought to why. Most of his books were either big occult tomes that didn't make for very good park reading or still in their boxes, waiting to be arranged on the shelves. Jasmin wasn't always especially tidy, but he liked books to be in order. In a faded blue University of Maine shirt and battered black jeans, his height left him looking like a twelve-year-old from any angle but straight on.