"Mira, Then." He'll Forget Her Name In No Time At All And Go Back To Calling Her "child," Or Perhaps

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!

Impudent, infuriating vermin--!

Maxwell lunges, claws outstretched. He's going to throttle this fox until his fur turns blue, and then some!

He throws his entire (meager) body weight behind the attack, intending to tackle the Librarian to the ground and show him just how much "terror" he instills in the Nightmare King.

He smirks, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

"Perfectly happy," He crooned. "And I shall, in turn, transcribe my knowledge into the legible and understandable common tongue just as you will."

He tented his fingers together, his grin just a touch malicious.

"And your apology, Great Maxwell: I am sorry that you felt such terror at my threat as to withdraw our agreement. I will be gentler in future as not to cause you fear."

ngl it’s the absolute funniest thing that max is working for a Shady Organization and doesn’t know it. like bro would NOT care if he knew about the Extra Stuff they do, but he simply does not. He’s there to look good and sell clothes. That’s it /lh

{ isola starter call ! || @astrallithid! }

Maxwell sits on a weather-worn stone, his jacket folded neatly over his lap and sweat gathering on his brow. His heart can't take this heat! Is this what summers are like for his pawns? If so, he counts himself lucky that he managed to escape before the season turned.

He sways, sight unfocused with the shimmering haze of heat rising off of the expanse of sand around him. He had wanted to come see the grand skeleton of the desert. It is quite impressive a sight, but not one worth passing out for. But he's here now, and he didn't exactly have the chance to whip up a chilled thermal stone for the trip.

...good lord. The Amazing Maxwell is going to die from exposure of all things.

As his breathing turns more labored, Max catches sight of another figure approaching the Bones of the Forgotten. He stands too quickly, hoping to wave them down, and collapses onto one knee. They appear to be a hearty sort (far more suited to traversing inhospitable climates than Max himself), and they're sure to be able to help-- if they're kind enough to stop and assist a stranger stranded in the sands, of course.

There are many ways in which this "deal" could go awry for Maxwell; off the top of his head, he thinks that if he were to use that wording on one of his pawns, he'd ensure that they didn't "forget" him by plaguing their nightmares until they went mad. ...that would be quite fun, actually. Maybe he'll steal borrow the phrase if he ever goes back to his old ways.

For now, however, he'll live with whatever consequences come from shaking the hand outstretched to him. He's suffered through worse.

Blackened claws close around the entity's fingers and Maxwell marvels at the being's strange biology. Perhaps, if things go well, he can ask for information about his guide's home realm. It's always smart to be aware of what's out there, especially if what's out there is in the habit of dealing in forbidden knowledge.

"Is it your hope that we will discover a way out together?" That is to say, is he itching to escape?

Honestly, not what he was going to mention when the other strolled in here and started asking about magic and information, but he appreciates the straightforwardness! He loves someone with enough ambition and reckless disregard to fly directly into the sun. His lower eyelid lifts into a grin, although he doesn't move to fulfill his request quite yet.

“IF IT’S HAPPENED, I’LL HAVE SOMETHING ON IT - AND I’D BE HAPPY TO SHOW YOU! IF YOU SWEAR TOLET ME IN ON WHATEVER YOU’RE PLANNING. IF YOU’RE TRYING TO GET OUT OF HERE, USE ANY CRAZY MAGIC… WELL, JUST DON’T FORGET THE GUY WHO POINTED YOU IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION! DEAL?”

His hand stretches across the desk at that - sure, his deals might not technically have any power anymore, but this guy doesn't know that! Besides, he likes the gesture anyways. Feels natural, and he's not giving it up.

Well, well!

"The Princess of the Fae and the King of Nightmares... what a majestic duo we make."

That's right, pal. He's royalty, too. Ex-royalty. Ex-self-proclaimed-royalty.

Maxwell doesn't seem overly intimidated by either the glowing in her eyes or her mention of murder. If anything, he relates. He's gotten to know a few humans by orchestrating their deaths, too, after all.

"Is your girlfriend human herself, or just a bleeding heart?"

● "Do you think you could hold your own against their princess? She's standing right in front of you." The woman's eyes glowed as mana swelled within her. She was just trying to spook him a little, and she wasn't exactly the princess anymore. That timeline didn't even exist now.

What she said next probably didn't help her case though. It was his fault for asking about it!

"Does killing them count as knowing them by your definition? I guess you could say I work for some now, at least back where I come from. Not really into killing them these days, though. My girlfriend wouldn't like that."

His smile drops in an instant, irritation flashing across his features. No, no, no. That's not how this works. His playthings don't get to question him and add terms of agreement and try to trap him in something clean-cut and binding like he's a genuine demon.

"Well, that goes without saying, doesn't it?" And he hasn't said it. Technically, it's still not part of the deal. ...he'll certainly need the Librarian's information translated, though, as that little demonstration has shown. How frustrating.

"I don't appreciated being taken for a fool. If you insist on beleaguering me over every little point, perhaps you would care to learn my secrets from someone else. Now, do we have a deal or not?"

His gaze is stone cold, revealing nothing.

"Just a moment, if I may," He rumbled.

"For the sake of clarity, of course." The Librarian was playing too. He knew Maxwell's type; he was one of them. Though, his methods of getting his way perhaps differed. He rarely used honeyed words.

"For one another's portions of knowledge, are they expected to be transcribed in the common language of Radial Island, which we all have inexplicably learned without study?"

Then his mouth opened again and the sounds of chimes and gongs came out instead of words. Or what most would consider words.

He pokes at the LifeSavers Book of Spells. A dusting of sugar coats his hand like fine snow. ...this'll take some getting used to. But, hey--

"Magic is magic."

"And getting to use it again sure tastes sweet."

It worked for their relationship. Sort of. In a way. That fight they had at least stopped some of their circling arguments in their tracks.

"Oh, certainly. They do so hate to see us having fun. But that's all the more reason for us to have a blast before they take away our toys."

Hah! The Librarian's lucky that the worst of Maxwell's ire bled out with his wounds last time.

"Only because you asked so politely." He gives the fox an exaggerated bow.

"Why don't you show me what you've got up your sleeves?" Technically, perhaps, they should wait to attack the "monsters" instead of the candy people asking for help, but personally, Maxwell just wants to watch his acquaintance wreak havoc-- regardless of who's caught in the crossfire.

"Oh yes." He chuckled darkly. "Many a time violence is the shortest route to a goal."

He hummed a noise. "And perhaps...this is a good assessment, yes. Take advantage of an opportunity."

Ah, abilities. "Yes, actually." He raised his rock candy wand. "I can only assume once our captors have had their fun that these powers will be taken back."

He looked over at Maxwell with a smirk.

"What is the saying?" He chuckled. "May I have this dance?"

"This is ridiculous!" Maxwell gripes, looming over the star-speckled girl to stare down at the corpse. "We can't even take a train in this blasted place without fearing for our lives?"

Not the first time death has set its hand on your shoulder in the compartment of a train, is it, Mr. Carter?

"That's it. I refuse to spend the rest of this trip looking over my shoulder waiting for a knife in my back. I suggest that the one responsible reveal themself now."

He raises his (perfectly average, perfectly powerless) book threateningly, fixing a cold glare on each of the other gathered guests.

Unsurprisingly, no one steps forward.

Then all hell breaks loose. Accusations fly, worried murmurings spread, weapons are raised and doors are locked. Some self-proclaimed investigator makes the tired-out suggestion that everyone pair up for safety, and before Maxwell can slip out to lock himself far, far away from all of this idiocy, he's paired off with the person closest to him-- the girl.

"...this won't prevent either of us from being murdered, so for your sake, I hope you're sharper than you look."

@codexvmbra

While most of the city had that sharp chill of cold due to the snow and the time of the year it was, it never seemed to be the same level of cold she was used to. So when she heard of an area even colder than the city, Mira felt the need to visit it, to feel even some semblance of normality, if she ever had such a thing.

That was what had her visiting the Twilight Tundra, albeit, she still isn't sure how it went from visiting the area to being on a train that went around the whole branch but that comes with exploring didn't it.

The size of the train car did have her feeling slight unease, reminding her a bit too much of the room she was stuck in on Adam ship. But, she doesn't get to think back to it too much until there's panicked screaming coming from the other side of the train car, people going on about a body on the floor and a murderer amongst everyone.

Like the others, it draws Mira over, to try and glance at the victim laying on the floor, an un-phased expression on her face when she catches sight as she blinks. While it is the first time she's seeing it personally, such a sight was common in the memories she'd see from various souls.