Re: The Diplomat / The Skin Changer
It took the man with Rafe's ticket a full five seconds to look at the man at the first greeting. No one called him a gentleman, for he was not gentle and man was not the full truth, except apparently for this guy. "Buddy," he started as this guy stumbled around his words like drunks around the doorway of a bar.
The startled look on his face only got the rise of a bushy eyebrow. What the fuck was this? Perfectly white, perfectly sharp teeth snapped down on the meat and tore off a chunk as he regarded the guy with too many manners and maybe too many drinks in him.
He was chewing slowly when he inhaled, a tightening of his nostrils. Guy did not smell like alcohol, but he did smell like tobacco and the chemical stain of cigarettes. Not drunk then , but something else. Not Rafe swallowed and finally gave a gutteral, "Yeah. Kinda heard to miss," he said with a small wave of his fork.
"People disappearing, yeah, I heard. You--" the words of concern hovered there, on his lips, tickling the tip of his tongue but they refused to budge. Fucking train. He swallowed them down and they tasted like cool, sweet air, not bitter, or ashy like crow.
"If you're worried, you should stay put. Makes you easier to find." In a crowd, he was the easy one to find given his sheer size, and he leaned the bulk of his body against the door jamb, only to have it give a minor groan of protest. "Or is there something else you need, bud?"