[Stocke's eyes flicked to the slight bulge of the bow below Garrett's cloak. An advantage of blank, glowing eyes - it was harder to tell where they were looking. He dismissed the weapon almost immediately, though; physical damage was hardly a concern for him anymore. And of course it couldn't be for hunting, or at least Stocke took it so - shades didn't feed on flesh.]
—Well, that nicely eliminates one thing you weren't doing.— [At least, if Garrett wasn't lying.] —While leaving out everything else you could be.— [And if the previous bit about helpfulness was deadpanned, this was even more so. It almost drowned out the static.]
[Stocke himself wasn't entirely certain what answer it was he wanted. 'Hunting' had sent a quiet, crackling burst of competition through him, but that was ridiculous - there were other soul eaters that he did share this part of Vandare with, even if certain... circumstances meant they were on what could be called the same team. Besides, he'd never wanted to, still didn't want to eat souls. Yet...]
[Maybe he just didn't like a shade he wasn't acquainted with near here.]
[Illogical transformation-caused instincts aside, he was getting interested in this other shade, with his guarded crouch, concealed weaponry, careful words. It spoke to something like Stocke's once-profession, skulking shadows and infiltration; and where Stocke'd always been a touch too blunt, a touch too willing to take risks with himself, Garrett looked to be mirroring the other end of the scale. Cautious, perhaps to a fault. Or perhaps not. (What Stocke knew was this: he wouldn't have retreated into the dark like the other once noticed, even if neither would he have threatened back.)]
[One of his tendrils curled inquisitively, speaking to his curiosity. Stocke didn't see a need to hide it; he'd already been asking questions.]
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—Well, that nicely eliminates one thing you weren't doing.— [At least, if Garrett wasn't lying.] —While leaving out everything else you could be.— [And if the previous bit about helpfulness was deadpanned, this was even more so. It almost drowned out the static.]
[Stocke himself wasn't entirely certain what answer it was he wanted. 'Hunting' had sent a quiet, crackling burst of competition through him, but that was ridiculous - there were other soul eaters that he did share this part of Vandare with, even if certain... circumstances meant they were on what could be called the same team. Besides, he'd never wanted to, still didn't want to eat souls. Yet...]
[Maybe he just didn't like a shade he wasn't acquainted with near here.]
[Illogical transformation-caused instincts aside, he was getting interested in this other shade, with his guarded crouch, concealed weaponry, careful words. It spoke to something like Stocke's once-profession, skulking shadows and infiltration; and where Stocke'd always been a touch too blunt, a touch too willing to take risks with himself, Garrett looked to be mirroring the other end of the scale. Cautious, perhaps to a fault. Or perhaps not. (What Stocke knew was this: he wouldn't have retreated into the dark like the other once noticed, even if neither would he have threatened back.)]
[One of his tendrils curled inquisitively, speaking to his curiosity. Stocke didn't see a need to hide it; he'd already been asking questions.]