[ Interacting at this level with someone who is entirely unknown to him is a little unusual. Endo likes to collect information first, whether by observing for himself or sending in a satellite gang to gather details for him. If he has at least minor background on a person or their involvement in an important matter, then Endo can guess at what buttons will be most effective when pushed — and figure out how to elicit specific reactions and turn tables in his direction. But when it's a total stranger — especially one that is far from the typical fair around his district — there's always the possibly of something going awry. Endo could hit a nerve or go too far, and while he is confident in his ability to twist things back in his favor — or put an end to an impromptu fight — there's always the possibility of a slipup.
And he is, by his own admission, not a great judge of character.
But this feels like a hook slowly working its way into a catch: the disbelief in the guy's tone and the ease with which he is distracted from his authoritative demeanor. Endo can't help but feel a little thrill — a little pleasure in capturing the guy's attention when he seemed so keen on ordering him around. He has to be careful not to seem too eager, since the guy's (more or less) acceptance of this path means that he may get an answer or two after all — without having to lift a finger. But even as he keeps his demeanor nonchalant, his lazy smile becomes a little more alive — approaching genuine, though it's colored only by his own selfish interest. ]
Why're you surprised? Talking is what you do when you meet new people, isn't it?
[ He did say meet, after all. Not fight. Which is, of course, splitting hairs, since this was all predicated upon fighting, but why get lost in the weeds? ]
Come with me. It's quieter over here.
[ As he says this, he spreads his arms in a warm, inviting gesture, before turning toward a building adjacent to their location. It's an industrial structure, long abandoned, but it has roof access — and all good conversations seem to happen on roofs these days. If the guy doesn't try to stop him, then he'll approach and enter the building without looking over his shoulder to see if he is following, confidently assuming he'll do just that. ]
no subject
And he is, by his own admission, not a great judge of character.
But this feels like a hook slowly working its way into a catch: the disbelief in the guy's tone and the ease with which he is distracted from his authoritative demeanor. Endo can't help but feel a little thrill — a little pleasure in capturing the guy's attention when he seemed so keen on ordering him around. He has to be careful not to seem too eager, since the guy's (more or less) acceptance of this path means that he may get an answer or two after all — without having to lift a finger. But even as he keeps his demeanor nonchalant, his lazy smile becomes a little more alive — approaching genuine, though it's colored only by his own selfish interest. ]
Why're you surprised? Talking is what you do when you meet new people, isn't it?
[ He did say meet, after all. Not fight. Which is, of course, splitting hairs, since this was all predicated upon fighting, but why get lost in the weeds? ]
Come with me. It's quieter over here.
[ As he says this, he spreads his arms in a warm, inviting gesture, before turning toward a building adjacent to their location. It's an industrial structure, long abandoned, but it has roof access — and all good conversations seem to happen on roofs these days. If the guy doesn't try to stop him, then he'll approach and enter the building without looking over his shoulder to see if he is following, confidently assuming he'll do just that. ]