@thebeastisnotforyou
Pulling his tattered cloth close, chains jangling gently like the wind had struck them, Miron eyed the tall and gangling man with suspicion and more than a little fear. Surely this man had not yet heard of the dangers of hanging around the branded ones, the inescapable mark on his head that served to advertise that he held a monster within, a terrible beast that tore flesh, ran men through, destroyed unrepentantly and devoured until naught was left.
“To which sense of the word do you refer?” he asked wearily, bitterly, the words seemed to crunch with tension and anguish as they left his mouth. “Kind sir, please… do not trouble yourself to take pity on me. I do not think you’ll find it worth it.”
And in the back of his mind he knew there was always a chance, since the world had become so very cruel to him, that the other man was playing a mean trick on him.
Mike just smiled happily offering the other man a hand. There was no sarcasm, no malice in his voice and gestures.
“Well, I thought we could be friends. We have more in common than you think.” He said. “How about we eat something together?”
