"Ohh, er, yes… An ill-omen, indeed. Something…. terrible… surely will follow…" Came the solemn promise drifting up from somewhere between the lowered brim of an overly large hat and the hem of a tall collar. Long fingers ending in dark nails moved over the table performing a strange ritual. "Portentous… of a dire fate…" Jyhun continued to intone as the items he was moving around clattered and clanked.
The Xaela that wasn't covered head-to-toe in heavy black fabric sat across the table with arms folded simply stared flatly, entirely unimpressed with what was going on in front of him. The 'altar' was just an Ul'dahn cafe's street-side table and the 'ritual' tools were simply the dishes and cups that had been involved in the midday meal they had eaten while waiting for Jyhun's alleged contact to arrive. Nayan had knocked over a small dish of salt when he had slammed his fist against the table in irritation at the other's lack of urgency throughout the meal moments prior… and now the thaumaturge insisted they were going to have a terrible tragedy visited on them if he didn't perform his convoluted ritual. Which seemed to be stacking up every item on the table into a precarious tower.
"You are stalling." The Hingan hit-man warned, the words growled low on his breath. "There is no contact. You were hungry. What have I told you about wasting my time…"
Jyhun was silent, lifting his eyes only when the tower was tall enough that he had no other choice. It was missing one vital piece. One key ingredient. It arrived in the form of a pair of cups of coffee. Richly dark and enticingly aromatic served in small cups. The mage lifted his cup up and placed it at the very top of the tower. There. The final piece. "I'm… almost done…" He promised the impatient au ra, heavy fabric rustling as he gave a small nod. He took his hands away, waiting to see if it would fall. The tower stood, swaying dangerously yet upright.
That was the moment Nayan's patience ran out. He started to stand but the moment he rested his hands on the table to push his seat back, Jyhun's own hand darted out. He yanked on a fork that served as a lynchpin and with that small item removed the entire tower came toppling down towards the fist-fighter. Leading with a cup of very hot coffee that splashed onto him from the chest down. The enforcer leapt to his feat with a hiss, looking down as the burning-hot liquid soaked into his shirt and trousers.
Amidst the shattering of plates and the growling of one very annoyed xaela, there was jingling of charms and a clatter of bootheels. Jyhun had bolted to his feet as well and taken off down the street, clutching his hat to his head as he tried to flee the Enforcer with the fork still clutched in the other hand. Wheezing quietly with the effort of making his escape after fulfilling his own prophecy.
Nayan's fingers curled angrily into the fabric of his shirt as he held it away from his skin, ensuring it wouldn't burn him as it cooled. Yet still the beginnings of what may have been a smirking smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The game was on. He counted out the seconds. Knowing precisely by now how much of a head-start he could give the Thaumaturge without allowing him enough time to slip away into a convenient flow of aether and escape. Three. Two. One. Time to re-introduce Jyhun's face to the cobblestones and remind him just what he had told him about wasting his time.
