2013.06.18 - Getting The Evil Eye

Ah, the mall. It's quickly becoming one of Balor's favorite locations in the modern world. Sure, they don't let you pillage here, so it lacks something from the old cattle-raiding days, but they /do/ sell video games and all sorts of other neat things. So...the eyepatch-wearing youth dragged his suited 'bodyguard' here a few hours ago, and has made the rounds of his favorite stores (and some others for random things that caught his eye). Presently, Balor is seated on a bench, sucking on a slush drink, while a man in a suit and dark sunglasses stands nearby, and a whole bunch of various bags sit on the bench next to the kid. Or that's how things start, anyway. A few moments later, Balor's finished the drink, and spends a few moments sucking up the last dregs loudly and pointedly.

"Shall I get you another, young master?" the suited man says, with the air of one who has been through this particular situation a few times already today. "You shall," Balor says, with a hmph. He tosses the empty cup to the man, and produces a portable game console from his pocket. "Hurry it up, now. Same flavor." The suited man gives a weary nod, and walks off.

A very curious sight is walking through the mall. Curious enough that people stop and stare, and then look away to communicate in whispers as they suddenly remember things they had to do somewhere else. Keith is getting used to that sort of treatment. As an upright feline covered in purple, striped fur, he is not exactly someone who blends into the background. The cheshire cat is walking with a slurpee in hand, sipping from it occasionally. Booster had suggested that he go out into the public more, so that people could get used to him...but it wasn't pleasant.

And it's about to get a bit less so. Turning on his game system, the boy with the eyepatch is /just/ about to turn his attention to the game when he spots the purple cat man out of the corner of his eye. He blinks once, then smirks, laughing a bit. "Hold, hold--this I hafta see, now!" He stands, turning off the game and tucking it back in his pocket, and walks over toward Keith, crossing his arms and looking the catperson over. "What happened /t'you/, lad? Kick a faery on the ***? Drink a wizard's whole stock'o'potions? You must've ****ed someone off, sure."

Keith blinks, and can't believe what he sees as a thirteen year old starts mouthing off at him. 'What the effing crap?' His yellow-green eyes narrow noticeably and when he speaks, it is with the bare hint of an underlying growl: "Nice mouth, kid, did your nanny put your eye out on account of your winning personality, or were you digging to try to get to the little man that does the thinking for you?" Keith isn't usually nasty, but his nerves were on edge from all the stares, and the kid really asked for it.

Balor hmphs, but he's smirking. "Sure, the cat has fangs. Good--takes spirit t'survive lookin' like that." He walks back and forth a bit, looking Keith over some more. "My eye's still here," he says, tapping the eyepatch. "Things'd just get ****in' bad if I showed it, or so my dear uncle says. /I/ think it'd be fun. Come on now...tell me the story. You tell me yours, and I'll tell you mine, so?" The cat glowers, clearly displeased with Balor's attitude- his tail is swaying. "The cat has far more than fangs. Run along, kid, I don't have time to play Kindergarten Cop with you. If you wanted me to speak to you, you could have chosen not to insult me. Now get out!" he says, and his eyes flash red for a moment.

Balor hmphs again, but this time there's a light frown. "Who's insultin'? I was askin' what happened. Y'take it bad, that's your problem." He shakes his head. "If you're tryin' t'scare me, lad, you'd better know that ain't gonna happen. I'll go where I want, and I'll do as I wish...and no flashin' red-eyes at me is gonna change that. Mortals. Give 'em a little power an' they think they're bad-***es." Keith narrows his eyes. Mortals? Ah, great, a frigging immortal, on top of it all? "I go to school with Thor's adopted son, you know. Can the attitude or I'll ask him to stretch you over his knee and give you a spanking with his hammer." He was stretching the truth-- he didn't know Eddie, but his sensitive ears had overheard his disclosure to the Luthors. And he wasn't going to the Academy of Tomorrow... at least, not yet, though Emma Frost had been very welcoming to him. Hey, it could happen! In Keith's limited experience with immortals, it was best to keep them thinking you weren't defenseless. "I have to endure pointing and laughing every day from people because of how I look. I'll be damned if I'm going to take that from a pre-pubescent comedian." He is clearly talking about the earlier laughing and pointing. If Balor's sensitive, he might notice that the cat is full of magic... or at least the 5th dimensional equivalent.

Balor laughs again. "The god of thunder! Himself's connected. Sure, sure. You tell him, then. 'Thunderin' Thor, Balor's makin' fun of me. I'm thinkin' that's kinda low on his list, but if he comes, let him come. We'll beat each other bloody--'tis a fun thought." He waves a hand, dismissively. "Come, lad...lookin' like that, goin' all glowy-eyed...you've power, sure? Fight your own battles...don't go runnin' to the gods to solve your little problems." He grins. "Y'think you're the only one ever been mocked? Toughen up. Kick their ***es and no one'll dare." The cat leans forward, eyes just a glowing green slit. "Fight your own battles, he tells me. I guess that making fun of 'Mortals' falls under that category..." and here his voice turns as cold as ice "... doesn't it, oh mighty Balor, mighty enough to claim to thumb your nose at the other gods, yet you laugh at mortals who have no power to strike back? Back where I come from, it's a sign of greatness to approach those lesser than you without mocking them."

"Is it? Where's the fun in that?" Balor asks, smirking. "Ah, who was mockin'? I'm after laughin' 'cause it was funny. Y'take it how y'want, lad. You're a big purple cat! People'll laugh." He grins. "Come on. What was it? Y'just one of those mutants? Ah...you're more than that. Come on, now. Y'make me curious." "Curiosity has a price," Keith says, frowning "That of an apology." For centuries, cats were worshipped as gods. They have never forgotten this. Balor narrows his eye. "Y'thinkin' that's gonna happen? Mortals and your manners. Y'should just smack each other in the faces until one o'you can't do nothin' /but/ apologize. So much more fun. Forget it, cat-man. You're interestin', but not /that/ interestin'. Bet it's a pretty stupid story anyway, with y--"

"Young master!" The suited man returns, at last, with another slush drink, having overheard that last part of the conversation. He walks up, quickly, and looks at Keith. Fortunately, sunglasses do a lot to hide the weirded-out look he's probably giving, and he keeps his tone polite. "I apologize, sir. The young master is quite difficult...and has a very, er, active imagination." "Ah, tryin' that one again, are we?" Balor asks, laughing, and snatches the slush drink. "'T'isn't goin' to work."

The cat nods at the suited man, "He's certainly a handful. But not for me." He glances at Balor and grins at him cruelly. "It's actually a great story, with blood, sacrificial virgins and cosmic entities. Ah well, I guess you'll just have to sit there and suck on a lemon and never know. Fun times, kid." He turns around and starts walking. 'Now we'll see if immortals are even more curious than cats. Goodness knows not knowing would *kill* me.'

Balor shakes his head, taking a sip of his slush drink. "It ain't a great story. If it were, you'd be fallin' all over yourself t'tell it...not gettin' all ****in' ****ed. So, it's somethin' you think's pretty stupid. An' I ain't suckin' on a lemon. This one's cherry." He raises the cup like a toast. "See you around, cat. Sure I couldn't miss ya."

"Young master!" the suited man says.

Balor just shrugs at him. "Oh, fine, tell Aiden if y'want. Add it to the list. Prob'ly already long enough you're forgettin' some of 'em. Ought'a write 'em down."

The cat smirks "Why should I be falling over to tell it? I'm the one who lived it." He goes over to the chinese stall and, doing his best to ignore the stares from the red-headed girl at the counter, he asks for the number four special. "Don't know what they're paying that guy to put up with that brat, but it probably isn't enough. It'd never be enough." he mutters.