He was relieved when the conversation about his anxiety was abandoned out of respect for secrets and the tension in his features smoothed out to a warm look of gratitude for both Phoenix and King. They'd never know how much that meant to him in that moment, new to the scene, feeling isolated and dirty by his curse, to have such gestures of fellowship extended to him in such a way. This night would live on in his memories as a time of making great friends and warm connections with the people of the Black Dahlia group. A truly inviting and nonjudgemental island of misfits who could lean on and support each other.<br/><br/>With a nod to the others, Goodman willingly followed Jen's escort to the door. "Thank you," he murmured in a low voice to her, his smile bittersweet. "If I could talk about it, I would."<br/><br/>Not that there was anything preventing him from doing so. It just might turn sentiments against him to know he was a power-hungry thief. He'd rather the others be left with the good part of Goodman, the one who got smashed on a single glass of Fae wine and took a nap in the middle of a party like a dork. Outside, he took in a deep breath, the bells in his beard tingling gently as he looked out at the darkened street. The sudden presentation of the gift had him turning his attention back to Jen and he smiled as he gently took the parcel from her.<br/><br/>"Thank you, Jen," he purred smoothly in genuine gratitude.<br/><br/>In the back of his mind, he felt slightly guilty for stealing from her, but hopefully it was something they could laugh about later. He hoped. When her warm, plush lips caressed the corner of his lips, they curved in a mellow grin, his heart thundering and blood warming with passion. Wow. Was that from her? Barely a touch of her lips and he felt<i><b>naughty</b></i>all over. She wasn't kidding about her powers then and mischievously, he couldn't help thinking about what a full on, genuine kiss from her would be like if the mere graze from her lips near his gave him such a libidinous, warm-blooded reaction. Maybe sometime... Eh, better not to push his luck. He had enough vices to saddle on his back.<br/><br/>"Thank you for the wonderful evening. Oh... I forgot about the gift I left... For whoever opens it, it's stardust. It grants small wishes. Basic rules, no death, nothing harmful, no compelled romance, etc. A pinch is a small wish. Use the whole lot for something really big." He shrugged with a crooked grin. "Felt like an appropriate whimsical gift."<br/><br/>And one that didn't work to cure him or absolve him of his punishment. He'd need to wish a bit harder for that. Tucking the purple parcel into his interior vest pocket, Goodman backed away before waving and turning, disappearing from view around a bend in the street.<br/><br/>He waited until he was alone, looking around to make sure no one was watching him. Goodman dug into the same one and brought out the small, hand-sized artifact. The Can-tah. It looked like a<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=http%3A%2F%2F3.bp.blogspot.com%2F_XdP6Lp2ceqY%2FTFI_r7d7aqI%2FAAAAAAAAXVg%2FgJiv82Arync%2Fs1600%2FTheScar.jpg&amp;hash=55353230400d02640691e220b3e9b3b2" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XdP6Lp2ceqY/TFI_r7d7aqI/AAAAAAAAXVg/gJiv82Arync/s1600/TheScar.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">small snake being</a>with orb-like gemstone eyes the color and depth of the deep ocean. And its mouth was a large hole that went deep into its body, surrounded by sharp pointy teeth. It was made of very old, carved stone, beautiful and eerie in depiction; simple yet detailed. Grasping it in his hands, Goodman looked at it with haunted, beatific eyes, licking his lips in anticipation. blood stained the sharp, needle-teeth that ringed the entrance. His blood. From previous..."kisses". Gently he started to lift the small statue, his tongue coming out to insert it into the stone creature's treacherous maw.<br/><br/>Sticking his tongue into the pitch black hole, he shivered in hesitation and primal fear. Then all the way in, as far as his appendage would go. This had the effect of pricking his tongue against the sharp needle-teeth the statue possessed, cutting him. As if called by the scent of his blood, a phantom tongue, slimey, wet, and cold, drifting from some hidden depths inside the small statue and stroked at his tongue in a dirty, salacious, bloody kiss.<br/><br/>A soft groan came from deep in Goodman's chest, eyes turned violet with sidhe iridescence rolling back in ecstasy as he trembled with power granted from the Can-tah. He wasn't him anymore when he pulled his tongue out, his mouth filling with the taste of iron and the decayed slimey residue from the statue's ghostly tongue. Folding in and out of the angles of the world, the man, Goodman, became multifaceted, multi-angled, sliding off of the street into the corners of a nearby building. The black of his clothes disappeared into the shadows as he left this plane to wander the doorways, chuckles heady and full of nihilistic despair echoing from the place wherein he'd vanished.