‘I’d think about it.’
[ she replies perhaps too easily. myrtle watches, one brow raised as he looks
her up and down. she’d kill to read his thoughts, but she doesn’t have that
kind of power. myr is pleasantly surprised when he notices the power she
does have. it proves that alistair the enchanter is paying attention. she
wonders what his real name is… ]‘Did you expect anything less, I thought that might impress you. It’s
a good parlor trick, anyway.’[ even a drop of absinthe can put the fear of god into her better than mass
can. she doesn’t decline, instead wonders why she’d be willing to get
quite intoxicated with this strange man. maybe it’s the niceness of the
knowledge that she’s no longer alone. magic is— it’s uncommon and
there’s a small part of her that’s so pleased she needn’t hide it. ]‘I–’
[ her struggle to form a cohesive sentence as he approaches her at a
startlingly quick pace fades into a quiet smirk. myrtle tilts her head up and
she realizes how perilously close her lips are to his. her hand darts out,
grabs the glass from him and she steps back, taking a sip. ]‘Better. You’re certainly a sight up-close.’
“ Did you come here only to flatter me? Or were you hoping I’d offer you a job? “
There’s something sweet about her aura, it’s like honey to the magician; alluring and mouth watering, he’s drawn to the flickers of magic like a moth to a flame. Stepping willingly into the arms of death, simply for a taste. He still stands close, head tipped with that same BOYISH grin she has him wearing so easily.
Magic swam between the fumes of alcohol, waves struck him and drew him deep under the liquid’s ravenous dark. He might find it hard to tell the difference between intoxication and his immediate adoration for the woman, but Jon would take them both into his arms like an expectant friend; they were both welcome.
He turns, his eye seeking and locating another bottle hidden beneath his dressing table. Jon could not quite recall if he had finished the last or not, a concern as it left his hand a mere moment ago, but found no harm in opening another. The clink of the bottle neck triggered an involuntary twitch of tired brown eyes, unnoticed by the showman given the onset of his intoxication. “ Because I’d LIKE to. I’d like you to be my assistant… what’s your name? “