"I don't have to read your mind to know your heart, Alaster. We're all human, so to speak. We all dream of things that are impossible, but there are few who can make it possible. I can make it plausible, at least, but that's neither here nor there. You don't strike me as the boring sort. Normal, perhaps, but not boring."
She can make a few educated guesses, perhaps. She can read body language well enough, and facial language even better if someone's not actively masking. She doesn't need to touch him to know that HenchCon is not the life he wants.
Maybe he doesn't want to be powerful, or a Super Villain, or even President, but free seems more his line of path.
"Mm. I wouldn't recommend my mind. You're right. I'm quite normal." The chipper grin plastered on his face made the words drip with sarcasm.
There was a part of him that wished she would read his mind. But then what? She wouldn't free him. Not without something in return and he truly had nothing, by design. No, nothing would come of that.
He turned from the bar now, leaning back and propping his elbows on it as he surveyed the convention goers. The ice in his drink clinked softly as he moved his hand.
"Lets play a game then." He announced excitedly. "We take turns picking out people and giving our analysis on who they are. No mind reading, of course. Strictly for the fun of profiling our fellows for our own entertainment. Little else to do between panels and auctions."
Alaster himself was to be auctioned off at midnight. Highest bidder gets him as a henchman for 48 hours and the full protections that came with an alliance with Sharpe Industries. His main task for the con had been to scope out the competition and one of those ways was from within.
Tedious.
Then again, one could get a lot done in 48 hours if they were determined enough and had a near invulnerable henchman who didn't sleep.
