Honestly, she seems a little surprised to see me. Strange really, for someone who puts there address on flyers they put up around the street. Really, you'd think she'd be a little more prepared for strangers turning up on her doorstep although....she actually seems like she hadn't been expecting anyone at all- given her outfit. The pause as she moved to take the flyer from me offered me a moment to truly look at her beyond her rather pleasant face- noticing for the first time she seemed to be wearing some sort of sad top and pants with holes in them. Was she aware she had holes in her pants, or was this some sort of trend? Then again I suppose considering I am in some aprt of town I have never had reason to go before I suppose is can be logically assumed she just has....very little money. Or no money. At all. What other reason is there to explain her appearance? T shook the thought off, offering her a smile all the same though allowing my gaze to wander briefly to the home behind her- or what I could see of it. Her papers were scattered all about, the TV seeming to be playing some sort of children's show and yet I could have sworn she was single ( I tend to have a radar when it comes to noticing rings on women's fingers or not, so shoot me, I'm good at it) and as such with no husband I assumed no children. Although- perhaps a single parent might explain her sad, sad clothing. It's not even last season. It's last century. She looked almost uneasy really, my own demeanour remaining entirely calm, soft, easy grin resting upon my features in an effort to prevent her from....I don't know really, running away? She looked like she was half contemplating it- her sudden exclamation at realising this was, in fact, her flyer, seeing both my eyes raise momentarily in surprise at her high pitched tone. What a perfectly funny girl.

"Amaya it is then. Pleasure."

Unusual name, though it suited her all the same- the young woman moving to lean across the doorway- almost as if she was actually attempting to block it. I think I may have managed a slight frown of sorts, entirely oblivious as to why she felt the gesture was needed. I am given, unfortunately, to often forget my current state of existence and status as a Dark Hunter (whether I acknowledge it or not) tends to put those of the supernatural persuasion on edge. I was getting used to it, slowly I suppose and yet, well.....I was used to talking to people, I was used to people, especially women, wanting to spend time with me- not sending them running, literally running, in the other direction and that was....hard, I suppose. Maybe it was fortunate that at that moment I hardly realised the woman was already wary of anything other than a strange man standing on her doorstep and momentarily threatening to accost with her flowers. One hand reached up, running fingers through the golden brown of my hair once more before it fell back and into my gaze as it always did, catching on the rims of my ever-present Ray Bans.


"You're a data analyst aren't you? I noticed your flyers a few days ago and as it happens I think I could find your services rather useful, although, if this is a bad time I can come back later.....I can see you're in your...er......"

I paused briefly, gesturing loosely to her appearance, attempting to find an appropriate word for what I can only assume is a desperate bid to dress herself.

"....fleece."

Alright, maybe it wasn't my best recovery although really, 'fleece', was hardly as negative as any of the other words going around in my mind. In fact, had I been able to read minds and had even the vaguest impression of her own thoughts in regards to how very different the worlds we came from I would have laughed- if only because it was so entirely true. I hardly know enough about her life to guess and yet I doubt very much her life has been anything like my own. The world I grew up in certainly didn't have fleece home pants. I wonder if Kat had pants like this. I had lounge jeans- maybe it's the same thing. My world also failed to have people with facial piercings and yet, honestly, the rather intrigued me all the same. I wonder if that hurt.

"I need some assistance in looking over some of my finances- there is an issue with my current team and......are we actually going to have this conversation here? I mean, if you want to I suppose we can, although the elderly woman who lives next door to you has been watching us for the past ten minutes and I am entirely sure that very soon the whole building is going to know about the man on your doorstep."

I chuckled softly all the same, words light, easy, almost teasing at her really. I suppose if she wanted to sit outside in the hall we could, it looks....clean enough. I suppose I can just sit crossed-legged or find a stool or something. It would hardly be the strangest meeting I'd ever conducted.

"You don't have a towel or some water or something do you? Your pot plant had real dirt in it and it's on my hands."

In my world. We have fake pot plants too.





k o h l
so you want to play with magic?