"No." Much stared at the hand, unwilling to shake it. Ascar withdrew it, nodding slightly. "Perfectly reasonable. Not everybody likes shaking hands. Would you like some tea?" "No." Much repeated, his brown eyes following Ascar's movements nervously as the man pulled out a rickety wooden chair, gesturing for him to sit in it. "No." Ascar laughed, his strong arms sliding around Much and hauling him unceremoniously to the chair, where they deposited him. Much's lower lip protruded, his expression reminiscent of a trapped toad, which just made Ascar laugh harder. "Look." the man knelt so that he was eye-level with the child, "There are two ways to do this: one involves me being in a good mood, and one involves //you// being in a very great deal of pain, if you get what I mean." Much's eyes widened slightly. "W-What kind of pain?" Ascar tilted his head, letting the boy's overactive imagination fill in the blanks far more eloquently than he ever could. This boy was a gift from Itari, if he was not mistaken. A /friend/ of the Panther, Much had said. She'd not changed as much as he had thought, then.... While he mulled this over, he dragged a second chair up next to the boy's and sat down, putting his clawed hands on his knees. "You don't trust me." "That's right." the boy said, unable to conceal the fear in his posture- the way he was slumped, trying to take up less space, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of his seat. Poor kid. He should know better than to show it. "Figured it out, huh?" And a temper. He had a temper, and knew about sarcasm. How amusing.
"How do I earn your trust?" Ascar asked quietly. "Well, for starters, you don't kidnap me." Ascar shifted slightly, running a hand down the knife at his side, in case the boy hadn't noticed it. "Be serious." "You leave me alone." Ascar unsheathed the knife slightly. "Oh, I do, do I?" "Y-y-yes." "Fine. I'll leave //you// alone and tell you a little something about your friend, the Panther." a smile spread across his thin lips as he watched Much's forehead wrinkle. "Something I guarantee you don't know." "I know everything." Ascar's fingers tapped against the hilt of the knife, reminding Much of its presence. "I assure you, you don't. If you did, you'd know she's not human." "Not... not human?" the colour drained even further from Much's tan skin. "As in, a Wanderer or a Halfrye or a Keithlin or something?" "Or something." Ascar's smile was rather brittle now, his lips pressed together in annoyance. This kid may not be as useful as he had thought at first after all. "She's feyrie." That, he noted with satisfaction, seemed to strike Much dumb, if only for about ten seconds. "And how do I know you're not lying?" the tiny one asked, a little brazenly, though his lips were white. *When I'm done with him, I'm going to kill him. And enjoy the peaceful quiet afterwards.* thought Ascar, unaware that those were exactly the words his sister had thought many times about the same person. "Ah. Now we come to the part about me." Ascar reached up, his long, scarred brown fingers untying the string that held his brown hair in a tight ponytail and then pulling down his mask. "You see, I'm her brother."
