A Linguist's Studies (Request to join; T for caution... oh and Teen)

"I see," Harrison began. He shifted in place, aware that he had touched a sensitive subject. "I didn't mean to poke at any sore spots. It was a curiosity, more than anything. I can identify if a meister or weapon has resonated, but not with who. It's sort of like seeing foot prints in the mud."

She smiled, looking over at him, "I've had six separate weapon partners." Pride seemed to shine through as she looked over at him, a faint smile reappearing, "I made every last one of them into death scythes."

He met her grin with his own, brushing his hair back with one hand. "Hence why I asked," he admitted. "I could make out several past resonances with you. Like I said, I know nothing of the who. But...that's impressive. Six death scythes."

She shrugged, amused by her own antics, however edged the memories were, "I'm good, or so I have been told. Honestly, it just takes a lot of understanding, tactics, and... heart."

Harrison smirked, huffing under his breath. "Understanding," he muttered under his breath. "I do hope you're listening brother." Immediately, he straightened, smoothing his shirt hastily with his hands. "It's quite a testament to you to have accomplished a task like that multiple times. I'm sorry for the coming and going of your previous partners, whatever the reason."

"It varies," she said, shrugging, though her tone alone made it clear enough that she wouldn't elaborate without request. Still, something about her seemed to be slowly calming, the faintest trace of a true smile lacing her facade.

Harrison resisted the temptation to pry further, though her brevity had stirred a faint desire for answers. Curiosity was a fickle trait that could turn a conversation on its ear in an instant. Even so, the smile at her lips was infectious and he returned the contentment effortlessly. Leaning back against a shelf, he readjusted his glasses and straightened the tie peeking out from under his argyle sweater vest.

"I appreciate the fact that you are almost single-handedly keeping this shop in business," he murmured with a grin, peering at her from over the top of the lens frames. "That said, you're buying up some of my favourite books to pass time with in here."

A slight, partial shrug followed, and she gently moved the tome in her hands under her arm. "I would apologize, were I not so thoroughly enthralled in their passages myself. Tell me, do you get out often?"

Harrison shifted, brows furrowing in obvious chagrin. "I get out often enough, I suppose. I like to test the body as much as the mind. Hiking, biking, swimming. My brother says that I should get out more, but he has a...skewed idea of fun."

Harrison paused a moment, scoffing and rolling his eyes. "Yes, you do," he retorted under his breath. "Your idea of fun is exactly why I can't go drinking with you."

Her head tilted the slightest bit, and she closed her eyes for the briefest moment, trying to focus on the limited trace transfer from their handshake. When her eyes opened, the man seemed to have a faint, aura-esque glow to him, the edges like strands of DNA floating along the surface. In part, it seemed as though the sight was blocked by the soul of another, and a relative at that.

"Partnered with your... brother, I assume?" She inquired, smirking just the slightest bit, curious and amused.

Wordlessly, Harrison loosened his tie, fingers fumbling for the top button of his dress shirt. The collar parted to reveal a simple, black undershirt. Drawing a leg to his chest, he rolled one leg of his khakis to reveal a similar black cloth beneath them. "You would be correct," he said simply, hands tracing along the fabric. "My brother and I have been partners for about a year now. When the need arises, he can shift into a fully-armored bodysuit. If he is feeling particularly... lazy ...he can take the form of a skintight unitard. Communication is entirely telepathic in this form." He smirked, readjusting his tie. "If anyone asks, I say that the unitard is for my after-work gymnastics."

Evelyn offered a grin in return, crooked, eyes studying the otherwise apparently normal attire. "An armor weapon? That takes quite the level of skill," she shrugged, thinking back at the sheer irony of her past partnerships. "I was never terribly good with armor. It makes me more careless if I am not, myself, taking the hits."

"I live with him, unfortunately," he said with a bitter laugh. "If I was careless, he would never let me hear the end of it. It suits us, truth be told. I've always had a predisposition towards close combat. Belligerence may be found more readily in Ezra, but I'm not afraid to get scrappy if the situation calls for it. Armor for a close-quarters fighter suits me just fine."

Evelyn nodded at this, though the shrug she withheld was clear enough in her eyes. "I do better at range unless the goal is to immobilize." Mentally, she began to sift through past experiences, listing off the types of weapons she'd wielded on a more long-term level: scythe, sniper rifle, pistol, barbed whip, chainmail armor, and molotav cocktail-esque bomb. The armor had gone quite poorly. Regardless, somehow she had made it out alive throughout all of this, and that alone had to count for something.

"To explain my earlier question," the meister began, gathering the books and stacking them as high as she could carry, "I do have a private library in my townhome. You ever miss any of the tomes I happen to acquire, or wish to see the rest of the collection that I've amassed, you are more than welcome to."

"I would very much enjoy that," Harrison admitted, moving to one knee as he rounded to face the shelf behind him. He mumbled to himself as fingers brushed over the weathered spines beneath them. He tapped his fingers once in affirmation as he slid a book from the shelf, sliding it to her.

"Do you have any interest in marine biology?" He asked, his eyes betraying his even tone. The book was a favourite of his, an anthology of collected studies regarding the beauty and complexity of reef life. The cover was a brilliant blue, contrasted by gold waves etched across the surface. Gold letters stamped neatly across the front read Gardens of the Sea: Botanical/Zoological History of Coral Reefs.

She'd been in the middle of lifting the first pile when he held the tome out, but fascination crept on her face like a child peeking on Christmas morning. Tenderly, she released the pile, righting herself to take the book, fingers tracing over it's lettering. "Biology is a weakness of mine, especially something unfamiliar..." Carefully, she opened the front cover, fingers grazing over the pages edges as she began to sift through it, "there's a majesty and mystery towards that which we cannot understand, a wonder to the beauty that marks something so natural and yet so... mythical."

Heat flooded the meister's face, his eyes hastily dipping to study the knotted wood floor. "That book is a favourite of mine. It was written after a series of collaborative dives hosted by a renowned marine biologist and an artist from Belgium. Eyes with which to capture the beauty of the world below and eyes with which to understand it, they said." He traced along the lettering, admiring the familiar texture of the flecked gold beneath his fingers. "Take this home. Read it. I'll front the cost myself."

"I don't need the money," she insisted gently, though her eyes had gone soft and her smile genuine, "But I sense a stubbornness to you that says that I might as well quit while I am ahead and accept the gift." A pause followed, a mental analysis and evaluation of what was at hand, and she reached into the small bag at her hip, retrieving a pen and clicking it active. "May I see your arm?"

Harrison nodded in compliance, extending one arm forwards. His eyes betrayed him, alight with amused curiosity and hesitance. Nonetheless, he held the pose, waiting and watching her.

Carefully, she rolled his sleeve up enough to conceal what she'd chosen to write without going so high up that his brother would be intruded upon. Her permission was light, curved and yet professional, done most neatly with her left hand, where she left, clearly, her number, as well as well as a little note reading, "Call me, Nautical Technician" and her name. She clicked the pen once more, looking up at him and retrieving the book, holding it close to her form. "I'll be waiting," she said, voice airing on the side of confidence with the lightest hint of a tease to mask her own nervousness.

Words came in fragmented wisps, choked back by the lump forming in his throat. He managed a grin, lifting his arm to look over the immaculate script decorating his skin. Rolling the sleeve back carefully, he fastened the button to hold it aloft, protecting the fresh ink from smearing.

"I don't intend to keep you waiting long," Harrison admitted, tucking one hand into a pocket and letting his exposed arm hang loose at one side. "Anyone who can stand toe-to-toe or challenge you intellectually is someone to keep close. I confess myself very intrigued."

She shot him a grin, a quick, nearly impossible to catch wink gracing her face. "Well, how about you ring me up, then, and I'll be on my way to await your words?" A laugh followed, "I need to work my new ones into the collection and would prefer to not miss your call due to such."

"I'll be sure to accommodate for time," he said with a slight smirk. "I know as well as anyone how frustrating organizing a library can be, especially your own collection. One book can be reason enough to rearrange it entirely." His eyes returned to the curling font detailing his forearm, prompting an unusually familiar grin. "It's been a long time since a lovely lady left a mark on me. Before this, it was...third grade? My mother writing on my hand to remember to bring my permission slip to the zoo home."

Evelyn beamed at him, moving books to the counter all the while, "Well, let's save that zoo idea for later, shall we?"

"I'll keep it in the cards," Harrison agreed, sliding the books from her pile over the scanner one by one. His eyes betrayed his actions as the meister's every shift sent his gaze flickering up to find her. Hands moved with independent thought, stacking the scanned tomes neatly in an alphabetically-organised pile. "Are you going to need help getting these to the car?"