"For Now." He's Not Going To Set A Limit On How Much He Drinks Today; Maxwell Isn't Going To Deny Himself

He continues to scowl at her; he knows what it would look like to the rest of the passengers, a grown man telling some poor girl to take the hit for him. Never mind that she volunteered, people tend to look down on those who aren't brave (foolish) enough to go gallivanting into trouble. So, yes, as far as he's concerned, she did call him a coward, and she can stay right there between him and the rest of these people.

Max's irritated expression slowly fades into surprise, then curiosity, then delight.

"You heard all of that?" What an observant creature she's turned out to be! And a humorous one, too; subtlety and propriety don't seem to be her strong suits.

Max grins unkindly at the couple, barely stifling a laugh at their embarrassment, then scans the train car for his new weapon's next target.

"What about those ones over there?" he says, nodding to another pair. One of the men looks sweaty and nervous, and the other looks downright terrified.

"Are they scared of the corpse, or do they have some other juicy reason to look so afraid?"

The pending murder investigation hasn't been forgotten, of course! But, well. If Maxwell's partner happens to be just as good at sniffing out shameful secrets as she is at solving mysteries, the magician is certainly going to take advantage of that fact.

Mira raises an eyebrow upon hearing his huff, unsure what she could have said to cause such a reaction from him before catching him making the comment that he isn't a coward, which makes her eyebrows knit. That wasn't what she had said, unless, the words she had spoken could be taken as such?

"....Unless words have suddenly changed their meaning, I did not call you a coward? But, I know I don't have all the meanings understood yet."

Although, she isn't sure how she can stand behind him to make sure he isn't stabbed in the back if he's keeping his back towards the wall of the train car, but she'd worry about that later as she listens to him go on what he'd do.

Then, when he's making mention of the pair near them, Mira tilts her head towards them, blinks for a moment before shaking her head.

"..No- They where arguing amongst themselves, a lovers quarrel I believe is what it's called. He's seeing his mistress or something more than she's okay with and this train ride was supposed to be time for them and he found out she's seeing another man."

Sadly, one skill she didn't have yet was tuning out conversations of others she wasn't supposed to pay attention to, so when she's just, telling him all that, the pair can only look at her wide eyed before looking extremely embarrassed and move along to the other side of the car further away.

That had better be an attempt at flirting, and not an insult, or Mr. Server will find himself bloodier than the cage fighters.

...ah. Yes. Alright. Definitely flirting.

Like practically everything else there is to life, Maxwell is woefully out of practice when it comes to rapport of the amorous variety. He nearly finds himself blushing, which would be ridiculous, and instead leans heavily into "playing it cool" so as to not come across as an absolute fool.

"Don't flatter yourself."

Perhaps he's over-correcting. Whoops.

"You'll get a better tip bringing me my drinks than you will stroking my ego." Debatable.

"Unless you'd care to take a break, sit down, and tell me what you really think."

his gaze is met with a warmer one from will, seemingly unfazed by the stranger's cold behavior. where expectation waits for a rude comment, he's given a surprisingly polite one instead, a nice contrast to his attitude.

" well, that's a shame. all dressed up and you're by yourself? " will can immediately tell the man in the tailored suit is all about pride just from the way he sits up, shows off his outfit. instead of shying away, the writer steps closer, glides the tips of his fingers over one of the shoulder pads.

" custom made, huh? well, you're a sight and a half. it really complements your figure. " turning his attention to the notepad, he writes down the order, takes another look around the room. dar'khol is pretty forgiving, but will doesn't want to lose a customer because he's too busy hitting on someone.

spotting noone intending to order, he resumes the conversation. " so you're a man who likes his suits fashionable and his fighting rough. is that what brings you here, or was it the devilishly handsome server? "

"You don't think I could handle my own against Fae royalty?" He's joking, of course; whatever powers ruled over her version of Britain were undoubtedly on par with Them in terms of their command of magic-- and underlings. Maxwell would have been swallowed up and spit out and turned to dust in no time at all, he's sure.

"You assume correctly. I didn't even encounter true magic until I left the area entirely. My world was woefully devoid of the stuff. ...legends of your kind notwithstanding."

"Did you know any humans at all before your arrival here?"

@codexvmbra

● "Hmm... I suppose the legend behind the Baobhan sith comes from Scottish folklore, but I am a fairy that was born and raised in Britain." She'd been surprised to meet a human that heard her name and immediately drew the correlation between it and those legends. Was he perhaps from that part of the world?

"It wasn't really the Britain you seem to know, though. Unless your Britain was ruled by fairies? But I seriously doubt you'd be alive if that were the case, human."

What an apt observation. How refreshing it is to meet someone else who recognizes the value of looking one's best!

"Correct." He'll take it as a good sign that Lecter can read people well. That is his job, isn't it?

Maxwell, for his part, does not take a seat. Good, Doctor. You sit. Forever. For some reason, the idea of settling into a chair in this enclosed space is utterly appalling.

"..." How to begin? Being honest, vulnerable... it's certainly not something he's used to. But he expects he'll be asked to pay a pretty penny just to be here, so he might as well get something out of it.

"I expected that being cut off from the dangers of my 'home realm' would likewise sever their hold on me, but I find that I am experiencing just as many nightmares now as I did before."

If anything, the nightly visions seem to have only grown worse since his arrival. It's as though the Stars have tampered with his very ability to mentally recover from moments of distress; he doesn't think that's possible, but he supposes it would be foolish to assume that anything is beyond their capabilities. And since he can no longer rely on a dapper suit and natural confidence to reassure him and sooth his nerves, it seems appropriate that he seek outside guidance.

He does not intend to spend his vacation in paradise plagued by terror.

"So what do you think? Is that something you can fix?"

it's not often that hannibal encounters someone dressed as well as him. in fact, he's noticed how rare it is to find someone dawning a suit for the sake of it, undistracted from the need of any social gathering. the man in front of him - maxwell, his file tells him - is dressed as if he will attend a networking event right after therapy, and so hannibal immediately knows he'll have much fascinating to say.

" ah, looks like we both dressed up for the occasion, " he says with a polite but amused grin, observing maxwell enter the room from where he's sat. " come on in, maxwell. you don't look like the type to pursue a psychiatrist's opinion, if you don't mind me saying. what brings you here? "

@codexvmbra liked for a starter!

;;

let's get this show on the road with an isola plotting / starter call!

It worked. Their rickety, slapped-together, pitiful excuse of a portal did what nothing else could and took him mind body and soul out of the Constant.

Scrambling back from the edge of the cavernous pit next to which he’s landed, Maxwell casts hasty glances around. He could hug Mr. Higgsbury, kiss him even! They’re free! They’re free!

But Wilson is nowhere to be seen.

Had the portal broken behind Maxwell? He feels a surge of regret so strong it surprises him, but he shoves it down and pushes himself to his feet. If he had to choose between freedom for himself or his pawn, he’d choose himself, of course. He’s paid his dues to that wretched place and those wretched shadows, and he’s never, ever going back.

…which means that he shall have to reacquaint himself with civilized society.

He knows as soon as he steps through the portal that he’s not in his original dimension. That’s frightening, yes, but nothing he can’t handle; it seems he’s not the first person to arrive here from a different world, and although some of the technology is completely new to him (what is this item he’s been given? It certainly doesn’t look like a phone!), he’s creative, resilient, and determined to make his new home better than his last.

Armed with nothing but a book (has the Codex rejected him now that he’s escaped Their grasp?), he warily accepts the offer to be transported to his new lodgings and readies himself for the next chapter of his life. Checkmate, hands shaken, the game is put away for good.

"Hell if I know. Call someone, perhaps? It is supposed to be a phone, is it not?"

Who would Maxwell even call...?

"I've been told I can pay with it, among other things." So far, everyone's been gracious enough to handle that process for him when he's wanted to make a purchase.

"I suppose the first step would be to understand what it is actually used for. You have one, too, yes?"

"What're you trying to do?" Brad's not the most social, and generally doesn't care about others, but...

He can emphasize with a fellow grumpy old man.

maxwell playing chess with one of his shadow puppets and losing

Maxwell of all people can relate. Even before the Codex Umbra was returned to him, when he was given a perfectly ordinary, perfectly useless book, he had kept the mundane tome tucked close to his heart in his inner jacket pocket as though it were the Codex itself. Familiarity can be a powerful thing.

"My offer stands. I assure you, I'm quite the expert when it comes to extracting the hidden meanings of books. So if you ever do wish to figure out why you have been given this one, you need only ask. ...but I won't be able to help if you aren't willing to let me take a look."

Maxwell drums his fingers over the cover of his own "mysterious book."

"Were you given anything else upon your arrival? Or allowed to keep anything else, I suppose I should say."

@codexvmbra

[📖] Girl held her book the way a child might keep a beloved toy close to them. It was clear she wasn't going to let anyone else get their hands on it. "I'm not sure why I have it...but I'm going to keep it." Even if she couldn't remember why it was important, she felt protective over it regardless.