A question asked with such neutrality it sharply contrasted with the previous good humor. Meraki’s dark green eyes narrowed for a moment. The mona gathered around them, then he lightly scoffed. He shrugged and looked away to glance up at the ceiling. His thoughts raced to adapt, to adjust for the reticent attitude.
“Well…” he answered slowly. His gaze lowered and he picked up the small spoon to collect some sugar and stir it into his coffee. Meraki hated sugar in his coffee, but he suspected it’d be better if he used it now for Aremu to see. “…I think you’re a man who knows far more than he says.”
Meraki glanced over the Mugrobi. He surveyed the incredibly dark, velvety skin and then the pitch black eyes. He added, “But you already knew that. ‘sides what’s it matter what I think? If I’m wrong… wouldn’t be the first time.”
“But I believe that you understand exactly what I’m gettin’ at, kov.” He forced a thin smile, then hid it behind a sip of coffee. When he lowered it, he continued – more than willing to do the bulk of conversation for them both. “It’s okay, we ent out in the streets or nothing. All safe up in this golly house, otherwise, wouldn’t chat about it at all, eh? Not like this.”
He nuzzled his own head against his hand, and closed his eyes in a drowsy manner, while he quietly sighed. With his eyes shut, relaxed in the overly casual posture, he murmured, “Just don’t know what I’m gonna do is all… don’t want to end up drownin' in the muck like in Brunnhold. But that’s all I’ve known.”
Meraki opened one eye, to peek at Aremu, and he added, “Don’t think I’d be very good at it, though. I ent one for lying to get people to sweeten up to me or to make ‘em think I like ‘em. Ent that part of the job when it comes to that? What do y’ think? Worth a try? If the pay is good...”