18.Sep.13, 04:13 PM
Z'jan listened to the voice echoing down the hallway. Armed? Well shit. This guy meant business. Maybe he really was a thief. But what was he here to steal? Numbweed. Bandage wrap? Oh yeah, that's what he'd come in here for... bandage wrap. Z'jan snorted to himself. How uninteresting that was now! It always amazed him how quickly mundane aspects of life could morph into adventurous, high drama scenarios. Such as a blind hallway standoff between an armed lockpick and a greenriding pickpocket. If that wasn't entertainment...
"I'd ask the same!" he shouted back, but the words came from a mouth that was quirked in a half smile. "And don't think I'm coming around this corner just to get a knife in my chest!"
Though he supposed, if he was going to get a serious injury, this was probably the best place for it. But uggh... healers. He shuddered physically at the thought of being poked and prodded and looked at as though he were little more than a talking slab of herdbeast flesh. Nope, not his favorite, healers. Still, Z'jan couldn't restrain himself. The dangerous, or seemingly dangerous, had always held an irresistible draw for him. Slowly, without any sudden movements, he pressed up against the corner and peered around, just enough to get an eyeline on the other man.
Hm... he did look kind of familiar... from somewhere. Z'jan watched him scoop up the fallen lockpicks. He wasn't sure if he'd noticed Z'jan's head popping around the corner yet. So be made himself more obvious. Because that seemed like a good idea, apparently. He took a tiny step forward, still half shielded by the hall corner.
"So if you're going to chuck a knife at me, at least give me a little warning so I can duck first!"
Z'jan didn't seem to understand the finer points and motivations physical violence. It was as though he thought the whole thing to be some type of macabre theater production, that required orchestration before hand. And his half smile, half eye-brow raise that accompanied his comment seemed only to further confirm this.
"I'd ask the same!" he shouted back, but the words came from a mouth that was quirked in a half smile. "And don't think I'm coming around this corner just to get a knife in my chest!"
Though he supposed, if he was going to get a serious injury, this was probably the best place for it. But uggh... healers. He shuddered physically at the thought of being poked and prodded and looked at as though he were little more than a talking slab of herdbeast flesh. Nope, not his favorite, healers. Still, Z'jan couldn't restrain himself. The dangerous, or seemingly dangerous, had always held an irresistible draw for him. Slowly, without any sudden movements, he pressed up against the corner and peered around, just enough to get an eyeline on the other man.
Hm... he did look kind of familiar... from somewhere. Z'jan watched him scoop up the fallen lockpicks. He wasn't sure if he'd noticed Z'jan's head popping around the corner yet. So be made himself more obvious. Because that seemed like a good idea, apparently. He took a tiny step forward, still half shielded by the hall corner.
"So if you're going to chuck a knife at me, at least give me a little warning so I can duck first!"
Z'jan didn't seem to understand the finer points and motivations physical violence. It was as though he thought the whole thing to be some type of macabre theater production, that required orchestration before hand. And his half smile, half eye-brow raise that accompanied his comment seemed only to further confirm this.