#oh god this got so long big f ICSGYCSCUCSSCYGC

[albaitross]

(why are all the back-alleys full of gods and stuff?) / continued! - @drolliic

it takes a while for Moppy Kid to respond. longer than what would be polite as per most humans' etiquette standards, but May has seen worse and stranger - both by human and non-human standards. so she remains relaxed in her seat, watching patiently. in fact, the dragging silence is nice, an opportunity. it's free reign to simply observe.

and she observes... that Moppy Kid is truly deserving of that moniker. gosh, that hair! so curly! so, so much like a mop! an iconic, perfect match for the descriptor of a 'mop of hair' and such! does he style it? is it natural? wow, so moppy! maybe she should have the column be about his hair routine instead...

unfortunately, the train of thought has to be aborted with his reply. not that his reply is disappointing in any sort of contrast. curry and coffee... just like on the menus of this cafe. oh, is this kid actually being trained to take over the place in the future? the mundane answer is likely no, because maybe he's just another teenage part-timer and of course, he has to learn how to make anything on the menu if he's working here -

ah, but what's life without assuming the most dramatic things about it? or rather, her own life always likes to make random dramatic turns, so she might as well take the initiative on it.

(and... if she's being a teeny bit more honest, there's this edge she's been feeling—

logically, it's probably because of the whole, well. fucking demiurges and their pointless tunnel visions for power - the one that hovered right over shibuya earlier in the week wouldn't be the first nor last of its kind. in any case, since something clearly not-normal happened recently, the strangeness in the air could be easily attributed to that event, the aftershocks and remnants.

gut instinct says she needs to prepare herself. somehow. with anything.)

"oh, is it really so secret?" May pouts and puts on her best, cringe-worthy cutesy voice. "come on, it wouldn't hurt to give a hint or two at least, right? right? there's nothing sacred in this modern era, and truth be told, no one thinks food is any more sacred either now! give into your little vices and i'll give you 5 yen?"

she punctuates the end of that absurd act with a pause, a snort, a witch's crackle of a laugh, and a return to the lazy posture of a journalist with questionable ability and unquestionable unreliability. she leans against the counter, propping her chin onto a pair of entwined hands as she smiles bemusedly at the teen barista.

"my joking aside - aren't you quite the wordsmith? very poetic of you to frame it as an exchange of secrets, mysterious yet so businesslike. you might be a good writer in the future, if you polish yourself." the woman hums a light note, a touch of something thoughtful to it. "let's see then... a deal, secrets for secrets... well, as long as i retain the unfettered right to refuse divulging whenever, then sure, what's the harm? alright Moppy Kid, you have a deal—"

she finalizes her words with a snappy clack of her teeth bared into a cheerful grin, and the barest touch of honesty - an inhuman sort, spoken but not heard, more a sensation. it's shaped like a spark and echoes like the concept of determination itself, feeling like light and the sheer innateness of all things, burning both with a soft brilliance akin to sunlight and the firm sharpness of words being etched onto a contract, a promise; a 'honesty' of the soul itself.

which, to a normal human, means nothing. too fleshy to feel such subtle, immaterial things. it's just a habit for her to ensure that her words bear weight, bear force - she's had too many encounters with the fae and the divine and the demonic and the whatnot, all with their own brands of horseshit wordplay.

"—provided you go first, that is. divulge the secrets of good coffee for poor ol' me, and i'll tell you something worth your while. like..." the woman tilts her head, thinking. "ah, yes. i can teach you a trick or two to better protect that head of yours, including your incredibly curly mop of hair. unless you're not the superstitious type? i hope you are. my tricks run on stuff like the power of love, friendship and faith, you see."