Marco lets out a surprised laughter at the crudeness of the comment coming from their ... guide? He's going to think this person is their guide.
"Seems unfortunately uneventful," he says with a small smile directed at the diplomat. Thank anything holy for small mercies, perhaps this day isn't going to be as boring as he thought.
"I don't think I caught your name," he says next, falling in step behind their guide, pausing only for a moment as his eyes squeeze shut tightly and his whole body tenses up as that damn scent pretty much invades every sense he has. (How is that possible, you probably shouldn't ask him.) He's never been prone to addiction and a simple scent shouldn't give him this strong a reaction to it. But now he's very certain of its source, and it gives his gut another knot to worry over. He's not dull enough to ignore the significance of it.
By the time the human diplomat catches him on the trail, he is already moving, smoothly padding along in that trail of the scent leaves behind. Oranges, spice, something warm and lovely, makes him think of tea and cozy night with a book by the fire. A bead of sweat appears on his brow and he absentmindedly wipes it away, noting that his gaze has been measuring the back of the man walking in front of him. What is he? A bird or a fish? Usually it should be easy to tell, Sidhe or unSidhe? But there is no distinct hint one way or another. Marco is tempted to say the latter because something that this man reminds him of... But his hair is very dark, isn't it? Is it dyed perhaps?
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"Seems unfortunately uneventful," he says with a small smile directed at the diplomat. Thank anything holy for small mercies, perhaps this day isn't going to be as boring as he thought.
"I don't think I caught your name," he says next, falling in step behind their guide, pausing only for a moment as his eyes squeeze shut tightly and his whole body tenses up as that damn scent pretty much invades every sense he has. (How is that possible, you probably shouldn't ask him.) He's never been prone to addiction and a simple scent shouldn't give him this strong a reaction to it. But now he's very certain of its source, and it gives his gut another knot to worry over. He's not dull enough to ignore the significance of it.
By the time the human diplomat catches him on the trail, he is already moving, smoothly padding along in that trail of the scent leaves behind. Oranges, spice, something warm and lovely, makes him think of tea and cozy night with a book by the fire. A bead of sweat appears on his brow and he absentmindedly wipes it away, noting that his gaze has been measuring the back of the man walking in front of him. What is he? A bird or a fish? Usually it should be easy to tell, Sidhe or unSidhe? But there is no distinct hint one way or another. Marco is tempted to say the latter because something that this man reminds him of... But his hair is very dark, isn't it? Is it dyed perhaps?