abraxaslogs | [ OPEN ] the fate of the game is moving my way.

A brow is raised at Ronan and for a second or two, she says and does nothing as her eyes follow the trajectory of the kicked bottle. She continues to watch, resting her face in her palms as the invisible force cleans up her mess.

"... I see. Of course, there would be other magi other than this world's own."

It's said more to herself than him, but Shuten addresses the man again.

"Your own familiar I take it?"

"Just a spell."

If there was a creature with a mind of its own scrambling around cleaning up liquor bottles, Ronan might actually feel bad about it. Enslaving conscious beings isn't something he does casually, despite being what he is.

"You're new here," he observes.

"Is it that easy to tell?"

Shuten is still mildly interested in the magic that was on display, but she isn't one to pursue more intricate details and mechanics of another's abilities. Not this soon anyway.

"But, yes, you're right. Total newbie looking at you right here." Some hair is curled around her finger as she absent-mindedly plays with a few strands.

"Not that I mind being in a new workplace, buuuuut, even I think it's quite bold of our hosts to just take their chances on just anyone to help resolve their little spats."

Ronan watches Shuten with an impassive expression but keen eyes, obviously assessing her but giving no hint as to what conclusions he might be drawing. He doesn't confirm one way or the other how easy she was to mark as a newcomer. It's not much of a mystery.

He seizes on her second point instead, dryly correcting her, "We're not here to resolve any 'spats'."

This is a common assumption new arrivals make, though he can't imagine why. In spite of his own circumstances, the last thing on his mind when he was pulled from the Well was the possibility of war.

"We were brought here for the Singularity, the source of magic in all worlds, not just this one. Unless you don't give a shit about fucking over your own world, it's your problem, too."

In Shuten's mind, a 'spat' will occur one way or another. The boy before her was handsome but rude. Nothing new for her, but she considers herself a woman of refined taste, enough to figure this one will not care much for her type even if she decided to cajole and coo. Sakata Kintoki was also a rude one at times, but it was the kind she had fun working with.

"I'm not terribly concerned, no," she says lightly giving Ronan a toothy grin. "Though the situation does sound about as dire if only sliiiightly more than what I last remember."

Chaldea had successfully restored human history, saving it from incineration. That was supposed to be the end of it, but the work doesn't seem to end, now that time and various realities have become an entangled web. No matter, where, when, what, or why, Shuten-Douji barely adjusts her thinking to suit the circumstances.

Shuten just gestures with her hand flippantly as if dismissing the very notion of any of this being significant, with even her own personal situation discounted.

"Well, it's becoming a comparison of apples and oranges. Same, but different. As long as the eye candy and drink are plentiful, I'm happy enough to see how things play out."

That's exactly the kind of vapid frivolity Ronan would expect from a female. Worthless to him in every sense. If the fate of all magic only inspires a wait and see, he has no use for this creature. The most she'll do is get in his way, and he's had quite enough of women getting in his way.

"Sure," he says. "Whatever."

Much as he would love to leave it at that, he's still obligated by duty to do the thing that he does. Which is not, in fact, recruitment, but bribery.

"If you're staying at the castle anyway, I'm here to give you anything you need that the regular servants can't get you. You know, specialty items."

"Hm?"

Shuten had assumed that would be the end of it, ('Sure, whatever,' read as indifference to her) but then he brings up the topic of acquisition. He offers it in an abrupt manner that makes the oni look at him with mild surprise.

"Would you though? I'm assuming this isn't out of the goodness of your bleeding heart."

"Do I not strike you as a philanthropist?"

Of course not. Ronan knows what he looks like. He has the face of a liar, a con artist, a snake. It's lucky he isn't one, because it would give the game away. The irony is that he's too honest to even soften his features into a more pleasant and palatable visage.

"Don't worry. You don't have to pay me."

"You strike me as someone who has motives, ulterior or not."

For someone who has a pleasantly drunken tinge to all her words, Shuten can be concerningly poignant with her observations. The oni doesn't hide her nature; she's so obvious that it's almost irritating how shameless and seemingly little she has on the surface.

"I wouldn't offer anything to someone or something whose name you haven't even asked for. But...!"

She holds up her index finger to emphasize her next point.

"I can file this away for a future favor. That said, I'd like to know who and what I'm dealing with should I feel the need to utilize your services."

Thankfully, the offer itself is Ronan's only obligation. He doesn't need her to actually accept it. Not when he has so many others already willing to feed him his purpose.

He lifts his shoulders in a careless shrug and introduces himself, "Ronan Lynch."

His reputation may or may not have preceded him, depending on how much she actually pays attention to talk around the castle. Ronan has no expectations, either way.

The demon bows her head in polite acknowledgment.

"Shuten-Douji. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, young man. I'll turn my thoughts towards you when the occasion calls for an extra body."

She may keep an ear out, she may not. Shuten just likes presenting only the most obvious cards from her deck while everything else lies in wait.

"You're quite nice to look at, but I'm not so rude that I'll keep chatting your ear off this late at night. Ah, but that's only if you'd like being bitten," the oni adds mischievously.

"I digress. Thank you very kindly for your future service then."

"Yeah, that's not creepy at all," Ronan remarks with good humor, though she is quite honestly unsettling the hell out of him. He's not opposed to the concept of a sexy gnawing, but it would be the very opposite of sexy if this woman were to attempt it. The suggestion alone is making his balls shrivel.

At least she's giving him an out. He's seizing upon it.

Retreating just slowly enough that it doesn't seem like he's making a run for it, he says, "Enjoy your littering."

[ OPEN ] the fate of the game is moving my way.

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