An Evening For Sight Seeing [Liltotto, Sigurd]

A brief humored scoff came from her with the call to not forget herself, her lips briefly flashing her sharp incisors pinched together in a slight smirk, "I'd tell you to tell that to quite a lot of people, but all of 'em are skeletons or desecrated graves at this point. Guess you're right somewhere."

Her next plate came by as they spoke, a simple nod of thanks given to the quite diligent waiter that knew well to mind himself - even if the food was whatever she'd make sure he was tipped well. Attention drawn back to the man across from her, she'd begin picking at her food,

"And what if you're wrong, and it turns out you were replaceable? What then?"

"You simply do better. The only way to be replaceable is to fall short, so you never fall short. If you make a mistake, you remedy it as quickly as possible. People are too quick to give up, but a corporation wants results. You never give up until you give those results, but I've done enough that I hardly worry about being replaced. Even if I am, I have many more facets to continue my life in relative peace."

He gauged her response some more. She brought up the dead, but that's just another facet of life. You can do whatever you want. That is the same for everyone, and sometimes that kind of thinking clashes with another of the same. When it comes to situations like that, the one who wants it more usually comes out of top.

"You're still alive, so that means you wanted it more than the others. Someone decided your life wasn't replaceable, whether it was yourself or not. I have no use talking to the dead, so I hope I'm not talking to a dead woman walking."

"S'long as you aren't a dead dude talkin', I guess I can't call myself dead, yet."

Her expression didn't make clear if she was taking in all he had to say, but it was something she needed to hear whether she wanted it or not today. One thing could be made certain - her spirits seemed a bit lighter than earlier.

"So pretty boy," She'd begin between bites, "What's your name, where you from? I just realized we never really introduced, yet we're already at dinner. Bold."

"Bold? There is no such thing as bold."

What exactly does that mean? Well, there's a number of ways one could take it, but he'll not explain what he meant. That's up for her to decipher and try to understand. He's already moving on from his statement, giving her an answer for another of her inquiries.

"You may call me Billy, Billy the pretty boy."

Her referring to him as boy made him remember their difference in age. He does not know how old she is, but that hardly matters. Her way of going about things is humorous. Sometimes she's backing away, curious about him. Other times she is direct and somewhat decorative. Is she simply bouncing around to set a proper mood, or is she simply lost on how to handle him?

"May I know this lovely mature lady's name?"

Guess he oughta play around a bit with her, finally have a name for the Quincy. Besides, if she wants to shoot her shot for fun, he'll shoot his shot in a similar manner.

A subtle laugh was held back, clearly in reaction to his repeating of the casual phrase she addressed him with as he introduced himself. Billy, huh? She'd expect something more extravagant of someone well dressed in this day and age of winding titles and chosen names, but Billy worked just fine - that was more her speed.

"Awh cmon it was just a jokey compliment, you don't gotta address me like i'm somebody's grandma," Waving off the 'lovely mature lady' comment, she'd give a humored sigh before giving her answer, "Liltotto, or just Lil. And don't you stick a 'miss' in there, you're not a kid."

Another plate was gone through with little further hesitance, but no more was flagged down for. She wasn't intent on eating too much, regardless of his insistence of being able to pay,

"Y'ever camped in the woods before, Billy? I lived out and away there for a good portion of my life."

"Miss Liltotto," He chuckled, making sure to smile in a minor snarky manner.

Even if she disliked the title, it was still the proper way to address her: older, younger, or anything between. That is, if she's not married, but he is fairly certain he saw no ring on any of her fingers as she downed her beverages. These days, physical cues can be dismissed for spiritual connections and whatnot at times. However, she doesn't look the type to get into anything needlessly complicated like that.

"...I've camped," He'd then answer after a minor pause, but his eyes betrayed him. Something about camping brought forth some sort of memory because he obviously had something else he could have said after cutting himself off with that simple answer.

"It is better to have basic commodities though."

A purposeful unamused droop came to her gaze with the man's teasing use of 'miss' despite her request otherwise. She saw it coming, but at the end of it was a tossup of if he'd actually honor something so frivolous. He pulled quite the punchable grin on top of that... Fucking dweeb.

Drinking another cup of water as she awaited his response, her brow raised to both his physical reaction, and the verbal response. That caught her eye and her curiosity, such things sought satiation after she placed her empty glass down and poured more water from the pitcher that was kindly left at the table from how much she had been drinking.

"Yeah, but gettin' away from it all and just embracing wild life is pretty comforting. Havin' a break from the overwhelm is nice..." Her eyes darted up as she tipped her cup to take a sip, "..So what shit on your experience? A rash? A bear? A doddering hollow crashed your camp?"

Those all seemed to be plausible causes for his seeming dissatisfaction.

"It is nothing," He answered. "I have not been camping in a while is all."

Words dry, his gaze drooped to the leftover crumbs of his meal. They've reached a point where it'd be best to leave the restaurant and adventure elsewhere, but he found himself staying. Their conversation isn't done and it'd also feel incorrect to take it outside.

"A coffee, extra cream."

With that in mind, he decided to order him a drink for the rest of the evening. Maybe he'll need the energy. He's unsure. This conversation has gone on longer than he originally expected, not that it's been unpleasant. He's done plenty of things that he'd prefer this over.

Was it really fine? Was it really nothing? His tone and dismissiveness didn't tell her such. Although they spent quite a bit of time in this restaurant conversing now, it didn't feel like she learned terribly much about the guy apart from the bare basics. He hardly seemed that thrilled to divulge into his personal experience, but now it felt like she found a hook. Normally she wouldn't be so bothering of a stranger's reluctance, but he seemed to be the dodgy type already, there was some chance to seize.

"You can't tell me?" Brow raised, she was direct with her questioning, "Thought you were the confident type? Y'seemed pretty smug, what's gotten the wind out of your sails?"

He pondered, weighing the thought of sharing anything of the sort. Her curiosity doesn't seem high, but she dared push him. With a sigh, he decided that a bit isn't much.

"When I was younger, I did have a run in with a bear, a mother and her cubs. Then, there was a short bout with a Hollow. I suppose that was my first experience with the supernatural."

Devulging in her request, he did not go further than surface level. However, he is sure he left her with a small picture of what he may have experienced. She is a Quincy. She knows what Hollow are like.