[Sodium_noir] Gods of Fire, Saints of Ireland

[Aaron Corrion]

Tom Kaurismaki, Christine
Dreamspeaker Mage, Orphan Mage
St. Bridget's Church, a little after 1 am...

"Hi." Christine speaks quietly, not wanting to disturb
the sleepers. She approaches the stranger, stops out
of arm's reach. "Christine," she adds by way of an
introduction, both her hands thrust into her jacket
pockets. "Looking for Father Bellamy? Bit late isn't
it? I know there's not supposed to be any rest for the
Wicked but don't the Righteous get cut a break from
time to time?"

She is gabbling but trying to keep her tone light.
However, she can't keep her eyes from shifting
nervously, betraying her suspicion.

---------
 Tom had a habit that was bad; it was bad for a few reasons. The most
obvious is that it was rude; less obvious is the effect it had on people. As
Christine launched into her little babble, Tom's lower jaw drooped a little
as his mind strained a little, trying to process what she was saying while
tapping out his little impromptu rhythm, but this only lasted a few seconds.
He gave up on his knocking suddenly and turned sharply to face Christine,
his mouth snapping shut and into a smile.

Why did this have an effect on people? As Tom's mouth hung open, two rows of
pointy teeth were revealed, looking like they belonged in the mouth of some
kind of wild and vicious animal. However, once the mouth was shut, Christine
once again faced a short, blond-ponytailed guy who looked fairly harmless;
disconcertingly incongruent, to say the least.
 A finger reflexively reached up to the bridge of his sunglasses, making
sure they were still pushed all the way up to obscure his eyes, and he
cleared his throat, and he spoke, his voice all friendliness and icing, "Hi
Christine, you can call me Laufeyjarson. Father Bellamy, huh? Does he run
this place? I just saw the light and wondered if there was actually someone
awake in this place."

It was a conundrum, really; Tom had the advantage of telling the complete
truth, but on the other hand his story was so innocent that it was
immediately suspiscious, and in the dark of the cathedral, what's the
difference between a genuinely friendly voice and the voice of a
professional killer trying to catch someone off guard?
 Tom continued after the briefest of pauses, on a perpindicular track of the
conversation, "Say, what are YOU doing here so late?", with the voice of
your childhood best friend ribbing you for messing up on a date. Tom's lips
curled into a sideways grin, his lips curling up to the right; he had long
ago shed the broad grins of his youth, his newly-sharpened teeth making it
simply too macabre a gesture.
 [OOC: Charisma 3, no specific abilities at getting people to like him, ball
is in your court, miss Christine]
 <T.A.G.>

[OOC: PS, the term you are looking for for Panic is "James Dean" ;) .]
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