masterdehuene:
“No, you would be correct, I usually do not belong in this particular galaxy at all, but here I am. Work purposes.” Dehuene didn’t need to stare back, staring was rude after all, though she did hazard a singular glance to see if she recognized him. She did not. Aside from wanted posters made clear and present all across the inner worlds of Lylat, but was that really any of her business? “Do you belong here?”
“That is a very good question, Madam. Do I?” He drinks his beer, his skin tone turning tanner and browner by the minute and his eye turrets hardly facing the same direction. It typically takes far more than a couple of drinks until Leon is completely smashed, but tonight, he’s inebriated enough to let his tongue loosen without being an active threat to anyone. He isn’t typically this chatty otherwise. Especially not to strangers, especially not to anyone not a reptilian, and especially especially not to women.
“You tell me, Madame Stripes. Where do I belong?”
Dehuene was exceedingly good at reading people and the vibes they gave off, and attempted to give off, and she could tell this stranger was attempting to be mildly unnerving. Nothing she hadn’t encountered before in her line of work, so she didn’t much mind it. The attempts were fruitless, as she didn’t so much as twitch a whisker. “I suppose a man like yourself belongs in the sky, wherever his flight may take him. Or somewhere dark and cavernous, potentially with willing or unwilling company. Am I close?” Gotcha now.
