RP:An Heir for Larket
Synopsis: Interaction between a rogue and his royal sibling, establishes Lucien heir to the throne of Larket.
Characters: Quinmyutiotu, Lucien, Caedan, Finn, Leoxander, Parsithius,
Location: Rynvale: The Jolly Roger, Abandoned Warf
They'd returned 'home', or one of the several places they could attach that title to. "It's a tattoo shop," he'd told her, excitement tangible in his tone as they walked. "Dad's real proud of it. Do you think he'll freak about..." The ears were still there, and the tail, though his bruised face was slowly losing its chinless appearance and the whiskers had already retracted. Only hours later... a vast improvement on a week. Lucien would casually try to hold Caedan's hand, or pretend to be brushing a bug off it if she didn't like that. He never could tell what her mood would be. Like the sea, he thought, just to be original. Hands held or no, they reached the metal door shortly after the runner, the rodent-like boy still prating about Leoxander's achievements. "The designs are awesome. The needle machines are kind of scary, though."
Caedan had tidied up at whatever home they had claimed as theirs for the last couple of hours. By tidying up, she mostly means brushing rat fur off of her sweater and trying to scrub subsequent cooties from her skin. As they traveled to whatever Luc wanted to show her, she convinced herself she was succumbing to the plague, and by the time he reached for her hand, she was too infected and too close to death's door to really think too much of it. His explanation passed without reply, though she watched him with steely resolve. When they arrived at the shop, she quietly dropped his hand to step through the door and peer inside.
Lucien said, "My tail hurts."
Finn had tossed a few coins onto the bar's surface, his mood not particularly inclined to social interaction..not until he had a burn in his throat anyways. The runner drew out a bottle, set it on the bar while contemplating the merits of a glass for all of a few seconds and decided to go without. It was just that kind of night. Bottle was already lifted for the first swig when the young pair crossed the threshold. The splutter of rum from mouth back into bottle was covered, perhaps not entirely by a cough. The captain's boy was..a rat? Eyes roved over his companion..memory teasing. He'd seen her before..a long time ago, but it was his business not to forget faces. "Evenin' Luc.." He drawled quietly, "..Interestin' day mate?" Caedan would get a lazy nod in greeting.
Quinmyutiotu wasn't fond of remaining indoors for any lengthy amount of time, but prodding folks with an inky needle required staying inside, apparently. She sat in an uncomfortable looking cross-legged position atop a chair by her tattooing supplies, sketching away at a yellowed bit of paper with a charcoal stick. Beneath the eye sockets of her skull mask, the dryad lofted a leafy brow at the sound of voices. Curious, she dropped the charcoal stick and twisted herself around just enough to make out the runner and the pair she didn't recognize, then whirled right back around again to resume drawing, assuming they were waiting for Leo or somebody else of importance that might drop by.
"Evenin'" was muttered by Lucien, dark eyes lifting darkly to Finn. If he snickered, just once... The shapeshifter's tail had been bandaged at some point, a lumpish affair of torn cloth tied in an extravagant bow, and the swelling below it, while reduced to a dull throb, was not improving his mood. Despite having a case of the crankies, the manners instilled - more thwapped, but anyway - into him by his mother took precedence, and he'd add, "This is Caedan. That's Finn." Roguish secrets be damned. His gaze, set in a face that looked very like a lame house-of-horrors mask, contusions and goose-eggs mingling with rodentlike remnants, shifted toward the bottle Finn had.
Lucien looked at Quinmyutiotu. He didn't know the masked woman, so did not speak of her. And what in the heck was she wearing on her face, anyway? Luc forgot those pristine manners momentarily, and just stared. With his mouth open.
Caedan was responsible for that extravagant bow. She tied it three times before it resembled one she'd seen in a dress shop window and met her satisfaction. She stepped away from Lucien at his introduction to explore the interior of Leo's bar, saying only to Finn, "I know." She made a circuit along the wall, fingers skimming over the artifacts and knickknacks lining the various shelves. Eventually she neared Quin and studied the dryad's sketch over her shoulder before moving on. She padded through a game of darts -- throwing knives -- being played against the far wall, which left the participants momentarily slack-jawed as she passed seamlessly in front of their 'dart board.' Once she had inspected the joint, she made her way back toward Lucien and jerked her head in question toward the corner she hadn't explored -- where tattooing takes place.
Finn finished the act of taking that swallow, eyes leveled more thoughtful than curious on the youth's condition now. Must be a bitch turning into an animal at any conceivable moment. And he still remembered that face behind the curtain..that room, those words. That damnable commission. No, the runner wasn't in a laughing mood. He reached into the bar for a second bottle, slid it along the surface Luc's way with a quiet. "How's it goin' then, the plan to get it sorted.." His chin nudged toward the teen, indicating his current state. Eyes narrowed just a tic at the use of his given name..but this was a safe enough circle for openness and he'd offer a lazy two fingered salute the girl's way. "Pleasure' darlin'.." He wasn't hitting on her..he just found the term the most comfortable reference to most females that came to his acquaintance.
Lucien's jaw had closed with a snap when Caedan walked across his line of vision, the clack of it made louder by virtue of teeth that still held a buck-toothed quality, though not as much as they had a short while ago. Dragging his inky gaze - of which one eye was a quality shiner, black and blue - off the bird-skull lady, he curled his tail over one arm, its damaged end dangling, the bulbous, bowed bandage making him resemble a tall, ugly child with an odd balloon, and when the psychic approached plucked an indigo thread up in his opposite hand, to lead Caedan toward those reclining seats. One of which he’d had to repair... As he pulled her along, gently, he said to Finn, "Brilliant." The word carried more than its share of sarcasm. "But it seems not to last as long, now."
Caedan switched sides with Lucien when he draped his tail over the arm closest to her. She coughed, pointedly, into the back of her hand. After listening to Finn and Lucien converse, she interrupted to amend their introductions. "If you see another ratman, I am the Lady Joliette, lover of Cap'n, keeper of treasures." She glanced around the room again, scanning the perimeter before her eyes settled on the tattooist again. Brows furrowed in unspoken question, though she pulled her gaze away to focus on Finn again. "He's going to visit me for tea, he said."
Quinmyutiotu would've taken Lucien's stare as some kind of challenge for a staring contest if she hadn't turned around already. Her eyes scanned over the mostly finished drawing -a cockatrice skull, just like the several she drew that were scattered around-, then pushed it and the charcoal aside. While fiddling with one of the azure quetzal feathers forming a mane around her masked face Quin turned back around to observe the others.
Finn 's response to the youth was quiet grunt. Progress was progress he supposed. Eyes tracked the pair of teens across the room to the work stations, warm whisky gaze settling on the girl's tumbled mess of curls again. She'd said she knew him..not just him, but his name. That was enough to have his attention. He'd had men and women that worked for him, who after months still knew him only by his moniker. Hell, Hanan had only discovered his name when the knight came busting into the Barrel looking to cause trouble for him a few weeks ago. She was so young..so..almost out of place in the roughness that was the rows. How the hell could she know? "We know each other then lass?" The question was abrupt, almost pried from his lips against his will. He couldn't shake the odd reaction her presence provoked. "Who's comin' for tea?" His brow furrowed.
Lucien's mouth slouched into a half-grin at her proclamation, unable to help himself. "Just a friend," he replied to Finn, pre-empting Caedan. "You should make some scones." he said to the psychic, his still-snoutish face turning so that his nose was almost buried in auburn curls. "I think he'd like those." Black humor, to ease what was major worry for the lad - explaining things to his parents. Including the possibility of angry Fermin swarming after the 'Lady'. "Those chairs," he told her, "Are where people sit when they get a tattoo. They're pretty comfy. Wanna try one?" Black gaze shifting briefly again to the colorfully-bedecked bird-lady, who he thought he might like to talk to, one day, concerning those feathers, he led his girl... friend... to a seat that was designed to fold back for easy artist reach. "Hey, Finn," he added, over his shoulder. "You got any friends in Cenril?"
Leoxander had arrived at those metal doors, and he started to push one open before there was a pause in the pirate's stride. Narrowed eyes looked back over his shoulder, then scanned the crowd indoors, resting lastly upon his son. A slow frown moved into place upon his features and he stepped back outside into the night air, closing the door behind him.
Jack might... chase after Lucien, not realizing at first who he was...
Caedan stifled a yawn in her sleeve-covered palm and began another circuit of the room, but was sidelined by Lucien and roped into chair-testing like they were at Ikea. She explained to Finn on their way over, "The rat man is. Yes I know you. You know me. But if the rat man is here, I am the Lady Joliette and Lucien is …" She peered at him as she slumped into the chair he indicated. Lips bent into a crooked smile. "Furface."
Lucien glowered, somewhat, at the moniker. And was... chased. By a dog. "Jack! No!" God…damnit... He abandoned his chair-tour and took off around the shop, the mutt woofing madly.
Lucien shouted, "Jack! it's me. "
Lucien shouted, "Gah.. quit it!"
Finn tipped the bottle up to his lips again, and in so doing happened to notice that crack at the door, instinct more than anything else prodding him that it had been the captain beyond those doors. That the man had chosen not to enter was telling. Seemed he was not the only one inclined to be antisocial tonight. Eyes shifted Caedan's way again, and brow furrowed. Was the lass crazy? He'd not voice the sentiment however, a quiet, "If you say so darlin'.." all the response she'd get. Luc's question provoked a curious raising of brow. "Can't say as I do mate…place has gone to shyte. More folks want me dead than want to share a beer. Why? Need somethin' done? Reckon I've got an asset or two I could send in.."
Lucien said, "Woah!" as he ran past, and climbed on the bar. "Look. Mutt. It's me. Lucien." He had to be upset to use his full name that way. Talking over the barking, he said to Finn loudly, "Yeah maybe, I'll let you know.."
Quinmyutiotu jumped to the conclusion that somebody wanted a tattoo after watching Lucien and Caedan headed for the back area of the parlor, and decided to hop up from her seat and follow. Watching someone - a rat-looking fellow, especially- being chased by a dog caused a bit of a distraction, though. With widened eyes and unsure backward steps, she continued her way toward the back area. Unfortunately for the dryad, walking backwards frequently lead to accidental collisions with other people. Meaning, Quin backed right into the side of Caedan's chair, which prompted an abrupt turn and several flustered waves of her hands as a means of apologizing. It might not have looked that way, for all she knew. Hand gestures had an odd way of being mistook for other things, the mute noticed.
Lucien was staring at Jack, who was attempting to leap on the bar, despite his arthritis.
Lucien glanced helplessly Caedan's way. Wondering in what aeon they'd ever get a little quiet time together that did not involve injuries, knives or ... dog attacks. "I'm gonna go catch up with Dad," he said, to Jack mainly. Eyed the door. Calculated running time.
Caedan had enough of Jack trying to eat Lucien, sitting in this awkward chair, catching sight of Leo and losing him again -- enough to warrant pushing from the chair -- just in time to avoid a collision. She seemed to take Quin's apology for what it was -- an apology. Her step turned for the door as she prepared to depart. She was sidetracked by Finn and stopped to touch his forehead with her index and middle fingers. "I say so," she murmured, letting her fingers fall away as she renewed her path toward the door. To Lucien, then. "I'm going home." She whistled to Jack, and whether he followed her or not, she was out the door.
Finn watched the scene unfold, accepted that odd touch even as he pushed himself to his feet. "You do that Luc.." he drawled, eyes watching Caedan in her exit. "Reckon I'll head on out.." And the runner did just that.
Lucien had followed Caedan, and bolted ahead of the runner, Jack on his heels.
Leo pulled the door to the shop closed behind him when he scented Parsithius' approach downwind. It took every small shred of humanity left in him to swallow that growl that threatened to boil out of his throat. A few steps onto the wharf taken, but he would linger in front of that warehouse entrance, protectively. Alone. Waiting. Inked arms folded over his chest loosely, ready to grab for weapons that he was in fact armed heavily with that evening, most of which were concealed. Even before he heard steps on the dock or hooves on a path at a distance, he called into the fogged air. "I thought I told you not to come back..."
Parsithius is different; he is masked in the fog that barely conceals the glint of his shining armor. And as for concealed weapons? The King of Larket did not hide that enormous halberd that he bears as always. At the call, he steps forward, and becomes more visible as he does. "There are matters to discuss..." The next word is nearly spit out, "Brother."
Leoxander tightened his jaw. The last time there were matters to discuss, it turned out in a rather vicious fight that ended bad for both of them. "Don't you bloody call me that..." A growl came with those words but, catching the scent from inside as the ghost would leave, he forced himself to be calm again. "My son's here, alright? There's more important things around than your want to get on my g'damn nerves." He didn't expect the knight to take any sympathy on Leo as a father, because it was a difficult role to imagine the wolf taking. Barking continued within, and the rogue stood between the door and the sibling he would not admit to.
Parsithius tightened his grip on the stave of the halberd that he bears, and twists it to further dig the buttspike of the mammoth weapon into the ground so that it stands vertically, strong like the wielder. "Your son is what I wish to discuss." The 'click' of his greaves signals another step forward, followed by further words, "It has come to my attention that your son... My... Nephew... Is the heir to the throne. He is Prince of Larket."
Lucien, speak of the devil, burst through that metal door that stayed open long enough for Jack to snarl along behind him. The boy's unfortunate day was illustrated by a huge shiner and a.. rat tail. "Stop it." he said firmly to the rogue's best friend. "Look. It's me.”
Leoxander couldn't bring himself to laugh. There was just too much loathe in his eyes. "That a fact? Don't think I didn't see your ugly mug in stone, like some demigod. You're pretty damn full of yourself these days, Parsithius." Yeah, he knew his half brother's name but there had been maybe two times in their existence where he'd used it. "What makes you think I want him any part of that?" Not that it was his choice, by any means, but he didn't trust that knight any further than he could throw him - which, curiously enough, Leo had proven pretty damn far even in armor.
Leoxander looked to the... rat? Human..? Something in between? It was difficult to adjust to this shapeshifting thing, despite that he was a lycanthrope. But it would become clear that this was a tense and dangerous situation, given how the two faced off on stance and glares.
Lucien hadn't heard any of that, being a distance away and with the dog growling at him.
Parsithius 's eyes narrow to more keenly pierce his own golden veil of hair that falls loosely around his face, and even going insofar as clinging to the sides of his stern jaw and piercing eyes. "I'm not here to take him away from you. But regardless of your opinion, the fact remains," A pause, before the next word comes as an almost sneer, "Achilles." The familiar 'click' of armor signals movement, and it is made visible by the man lifting his vacant hand to rest it on his hip. "Would you rather him do as you did? Crime? Rack up a bounty in nearly every land, every province, until bounty hunters even stronger than I, with harder hearts than mine, come knocking at his door?"
Lucien had by now spotted his father, but was eyeing the Knight when he gave Leoxander a wave and stepped, cautiously, watching Jack now, toward the men.
Lucien said to Jack, "Sausages. Remember?"
Leoxander felt a nerve struck. He'd never really had shame about what he'd done for a living, not until the day he discovered he was the father of a boy that already understood the world better than most. His features remained stern, posture tense, a hand idly flexing and relaxing for what he would like to do to the male at that remark. "Damn right you're not taking him. I'm not into that anymore. It's been boring as hell around this world lately - you notice that, mate?" It wasn't much of an argument. He already knew he couldn't keep the fact from Lucien, who was right there, losing rattish features. He took a breath and tore his stare from the armored one to acknowledge the grown, pale haired boy that seemed to resemble him in looks, if not nature. "His Majesty would like a word with you, kid. Seems you're on the will for pile of rubbish when Tin-man kicks on." Parsithius had no wolf in his way to speak directly to Lucien, but Leo was going to stay near...
Leoxander said, "Jack! Leave it."
Naturally, the dog moved to Leo's side, a wag of tail given shyly to Parsithius, but he was in trouble for just a second. Bad Jack.
Parsithius slices his gaze toward Lucien at Leoxander's words, but they temporarily revert to give the pirate a stare; he didn't comment on the remarks of either the world being boring, or the names that Achilles had dubbed him. After a good moment, they return to Lucien, "Do you remember me, Lucien?"
Leoxander ran a hand over Lucien's hair, as though to say it was alright to speak, in passing. Only to hover, almost pace, restlessly. Very restless, as of late.
Lucien's features blanked when his father spoke, inky gaze set in a face that still bore faint trace of his latest transformation, but was recognizably his own, for the most part. He'd arrived just in time to overhear that last exchange, and so a line of worry was etched into his forehead, even though he was relieved Jack had been ordered to stop hassling him. Itching one forearm with a long-nailed human hand that sent sparse gray hairs shedding onto the warped boards below, he said in reply to Parsithius, "Hello, sir. Yes, I do remember," with a polite nod. He'd step onward, to take his dad's side for that familiar hair-muss that he'd come to look forward to so much, though his usual grin was absent. "Taking me?" The question was soft, the next glance - his shiner quite noticeable - toward Larket's King a startled one. "Taking me where?"
Leoxander answered before Parsithius could. "No where, Luc'. Your home is here..." At least, the Captain believed so. But he would let the Knight speak, begrudgingly.
Parsithius shakes his head, causing those locks of golden not at all unlike Leoxander's own (save longer) to tussle about his stern features and thick neck. "Nobody is taking you. You see, Lucien..." He pauses -how does one tell a child that he is prince? That if his aunt and uncle were to die, he'd not just gain a fancy new sword in a will, but rather, he will gain lordship over an entire city? "Well. You're a prince." Might as well be forthcoming. "Specifically, you're the Prince of Larket."
Leoxander didn't like it. Of course he didn't like it. He'd worked an entire summer to try to build them a tiny villa on the beach and went through a war just to get a warehouse shop. Then the Knight, half-sibling his mother just -adored- is here to tell -HIS- bloody son he's inheriting a Kingdom from good ol' Auntie Wealth and Uncle Saintly. He chuffed a disgusted breath that blew some hair out of his face, briefly, but didn't do much more to interrupt the special moment.
Lucien blinked. Slowly. He'd had a very long day, battled rats, become one for the god's sake, found his 'Lola' and .. "What." His momentary slip of the good manner his mother had drubbed into him was followed by, "Um." And a glance toward Leoxander, as if appealing for somebody to start making sense. Then back to the Knight, his mouth hanging open, and a wide grin flashed, one Parsithius might find similar to the rogue's, if he'd seen that expression in less tension-fraught days. "Oh, good one. Nearly had me there." He laughed, too loudly, in his relief at realizing the jape. But why wasn't his Dad laughing? Or the Knight? He blinked again, the grin faltering.
Leoxander could only kinda shrug with his expression, and maybe a slight lift of his shoulders. "You heard the man." This wasn't particularly how he wanted the boy to find out he and the bounty hunter after his head were related. Closely related... he wasn't even sure that Jolie knew. But maybe part if him hoped Jolie would tear his head off, not knowing that. A deep breath taken, and very reluctantly, Leo worked to speak words he never wanted to say again in his life. "He's my brother, Luc. Your uncle by blood, and there's no one else if he dies." A slow look fixed back at the blonde, as though promising that may just be sooner than later.
Parsithius shakes his head, only pausing to glare at Leoxander for the disgusted breath that obnoxiously blows to convey the were's disgust. Achilles. The very sound of the man's name had the knight's blood boiling, and jaw twitching; he didn't ask to be related to the pirate. And now he must go out of his way to make semi-civil relation with the blasted rogue. The one that had Parsithius chasing him all over the lands. Those blue eyes turn toward Lucien, "It is no jest. Larket's monarchy passes on from generation to generation. Myself and the Queen, we bear no son-" Another thing Parsithius hated Leoxander for, bearing a son when the knight, in all his 'goodness' could not -"Then you are the next of kin of the generation following our own. You are Prince of Larket."
Lucien's jaw slung low again, the bewildered youth simply staring, staring, at his dad, at the Knight, at the shrubby salt-bushes nearby, the sea... His dark eyes wandered while his immeasurable and naive mind shuddered in way that made him see spots. Spots, and... a view, from Lola's window. "I... " He had to check with father, one last time. "Really? Brothers?" Then, to Parsithius, "You're my uncle? I have another one?" The part about the prince did not seem to have to sunk in quite as deeply yet as that more understandable revelation. A tan hand - its nails still long and curved to delicate points - was thrust toward his newfound relative. "Well, I'll be a kraken's ballsa..." He'd been hanging out with Caedan too long. "I mean. What a surprise, sir." Whether the hand was shaken or not, he would add, more in the direction of the rogue, "I'm a prince?"
Leoxander heard 'another one', and he would have spit his rum had he had a mug in hand. "I don't give a damn what that black heart told you, you're not related to him." Apparently he favored Parsithius just a notch over the oldest, which wasn't much at all. At least he had the stomach to admit half blood. Then he'd quiet there, arms folded angrily, watching Lucien reach to shake the hand of a man who'd tried for his head with that halbred for years. "I'm goin' inside..." That didn't mean Leo wouldn't be watching, listening, but he couldn't take any more of this. Envy was a sin he was far from immune to, and something about him hated the fact the two were getting along. And yet, he knew it wasn't his place, to interfere or try to control fate. She'd teach him a lesson quick if he tried.
Lucien said to Leoxander, "Dad.. please? Stay?"
Parsithius extends his gauntleted hand to take hold of the smaller one of Lucien's, but mid-way stops, and removes the gauntlet. The hands are strikingly similar, his and Leoxander's, except in place of tattoos are scars of battle. "Aye. You're my nephew. And you're not 'a' prince. You're 'the' prince." After a firm shake, the King of Larket would look back toward Leoxander, "You and your father should come to the city at some point. It's best to know what it is you'll rule one day." He pauses, then speaks once more, "And listen to your father's advice on the matter." Not your mother's, "He's your most trusted confidant." The Knight takes a step back, but not in fear; rather, respect of his half-brother. Even if he hated the pirate's filthy guts.
Leoxander had never been treated with respect by Parsithius in all his life. But then, only recently had the filthy pirate managed to really knock his fist into the King of Larket's strikingly similar face. That half turn was paused, first by Lucien's question - he would stay. More so because of Pars' attitude, or lack there of. Even telling Lucien that his advice was worth it? Now the rogue would furrow his brow in a suspicious look toward the Knight, but had nothing yet to say. No farewell. No promises. Not even a nod. Just a wolf-like stare behind tousled hair he'd passed onto the Prince of Larket. Parsithius is quick to return the stare, which isn't very wolf-like, but stern like the brothers' mother.
Leoxander absolutely hated seeing the Bird's stare in his sharp eyes. While he managed to get the woman's beak like nose. But now that it was in the open Lucien would only need glance between the two to see the truth in bloodline, however tainted and bestial Leo's had become. There is a weighing silence for those moments, before he looks toward Lucien for some reaction, some word.
Lucien wanted his father there, right there, because this was all... just too weird. He gave Parsithius a nod while the man spoke, here and there, to let him know Luc understood, and to acknowledge the invitation. He even managed a crooked half-smile when the Knight appeared to say something nice about his Dad, with which Lucien wholly agreed. "Wow. I.. mean, thank you, sir." Uncle Parsithius? He didn't feel so comfortable yet with the King of Larket as to use the term. "This is..." he was at a loss for words, briefly, frowning at himself. His brow lifted again as he added, "It's amazing. And.. an honor. But if its okay, could I maybe have some time.. " His shoulder would bump Leo's, as he instinctively leaned closer to the rogue. "Just to get used to the idea." That his father was still there meant a lot to the boy, who was not blind or deaf, or silly, and had picked up on the obvious antipathy between the two men... brothers.
Leoxander wasn't overly affectionate, but he did place a calloused hand on the boy's shoulder to remind him he hadn't walked away. He was right there beside him. A hesitant look drifted back to the Knight and Leo assumed his business was finished there. He could not believe he was about to do what he was... about to do, and dearly hoped that Parsithius decided to decline the offer. But if not... he was digging his own grave. "You want a drink or somethin'?" That was as much invitation back inside as the bounty hunter would ever get from the criminal.
Parsithius nods his head as his gaze slices back toward Lucien, and the antic of the cranial incline causes an inherit 'click' of pauldrons touching cuirass, "I would expect no less, Lucien." Another stern glare at Leoxander, coupled with the gauntlet once more being placed over his hand, "I should take my leave."
Parsithius glances toward Leoxander at his words, "The hour is late, I must decline your offer, Achilles."
Lucien said to Parsithius, "Sir?" His eyes were large and dark in his teenaged face, hopeful. "Just one drink? Or maybe you’ll come back?"
Parsithius 's gaze returns toward Lucien, and the man -in a moment of extreme rarity- mars his normally stoic and determined features. "I will come back, Lucien, certainly. And I'll stay for a drink then." He casts his gaze toward Leoxander again, at that word, as if challenge were in them; last time they both drank, they beat the living hell out of one another.
Leoxander seemed content to avoid the drinking, and the fighting for tonight. There was something stressed in the rogue's eyes, that even Parsithius' challenging look couldn't replace with complete aggression. "I know you already got your plate full, Luc, but we've gotta talk, you and I..." It was long overdue. There was no demise or concern in his voice but he did touch the boy's shoulder to start to guide him toward the shop's door. "Go on, inside, your highness..." A little sarcastic mumble there at the end, one last cautious look drifting toward his half sibling, because he still didn't trust him.
Lucien said, "Dad..." Luc tugged his shirt, "He said he'd stay." He beamed, again, that smile that echoed paternal genes. "I'll get the glasses set up."
Parsithius had meant the next time he comes over, and raises a gauntlet to scratch at the back of his head, "No, no, Lucien, I had meant when I come back I will. You and your father have much to discuss."
Leoxander pushed open the metal door to let his son through.
Lucien nodded, though he did look disappointed. "See you then Unc... sir." He offered the Knight a wave, and maybe Parsithius would get a chance to gaze upon the royal rat tail as the shapeshifter entered the shop.
Parsithius , with a 'click' of armor, turns and begins to leave - after returning the wave with a nod.