* account swapped. fub free.

Pulls @beinvoid's ears. Both of them.

Damn, this magazine he's reading is kind of saucy.

In the sepulchral quiet, even the lullaby Tristan is humming sounds loud. There is a kitten, tiny and shivering, bundled in what looks to be scrap fabric within his arms as fog starts to creep in. The bus stop is deserted. "Mmm hmm-mm..." The tune continues.

"I dunno about you but cigarettes taste better when it's this late." Without looking, he knows it's way past midnight. Underneath his soles, the asphalt is still wet from a fresh summertime rain. "You want some?"

Tristan tilts his head, listens to the sermon by an elderly priest that talks about worldly desires, about hunger, about abstinence and sin and other things that make him yawn. He thinks about the free lunch instead. "I think we're all allowed to be a little hungry, yeah?"

"It's not like they've got anywhere else to go but the underworld," Tristan shrugs, counting paper talismans like counting money. His fingers are deft with it. Something he has to do more often than he likes. "Cramped place, I'd bet."

"Lycoris? Ah," Tristan menjentikkan jarinya. Tak asing nama itu baginya, dulu dia sempat bersinggah dengan seorang bhikkhu saat mengunjungi Kamboja. "Sering aku lihat tapi tidak pernah digunakan dalam praktek sih— erm, maksudku seperti praktek merangkai bunga, gitu."

Tristan definitely pretends to not see the horns and tail, at least not until he determines whether or not the guy is hostile. "Hunger doesn't motivate me," nothing motivates him if he's honest. "But it does motivate a lot of people. What, you got a craving?"