‘What if I am?’ Without even thinking about it your hackles raise. Subconscious body language of a manticore thinking defensively.
‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t really introduce myself did I? The name’s Gavin, Gavin Rossinol.’ He says with a smile and outstretched hands as if imploring for forgiveness for some impertinence.
You are blushing underneath the coarse fur that covers your face, but you are unsure if he can see it. There is something so very charming about this stranger. And despite the shocking look of him, and everyone else here, your perception has already adjusted. To try and distract yourself and him from your embarrassing state you pick up one of the menus and begin reading it. The cuisine on offer here also seems to be out of place for an otherwise classic look. Live fooding, wriggling and squirming to get free, appears to be a common part of most dishes here. Vegetables are cooked, meat rarely so.
‘Do you want to order?’ Gavin asks, ignoring the monstrous grimaces you know your face is contorting into.
‘I guess so. What are you going to have?’
‘I’ll order something plain for you. Probably shouldn’t tax you after whatever ordeal you’ve had.’
Gavin gets the attention of one of the servers and they walk over. You recoil a little at the sight of her. Unlike yourself or Gavin, this manticore appears to be a real monster, with vicious looking scars on her face and not one, but three scorpion’s tails. The apron and little notepad and pencil she is holding is almost comical when placed as an oxymoron next to her naturally brutal appearance. The server notices you staring and frowns, though her attention is on your new friend.
‘Can I get the cold horse platter. And for my friend here, she’ll have… I think just a bowl of mice.’
The moment he names the dish you can feel your stomach revolt against you. At the very least you hope that they are domestically raised mice and not food scavenged from some hole. Gavin is also sure to order drinks, including just some water for yourself before the server goes back to the kitchen. You wonder if you should say something about the choice of cuisine. However, before you can say anything Gavin is the first to speak.
‘Now that you know my name and food is coming. Can you tell me your name?’ He asks almost disinterestedly, his eyes someplace other than on you.
Written by iscin on 24 December 2017
'I can't remember'