It seemed that the two, the arachnid and Amadan, had more interaction than Drae had first anticipated. It wouldn't have surprised him in the least to discover that neither one acknowledged the other, but it surprised him considerably that not only did they talk, they also quarreled.<br/><br/>The more he thought about it, the more it was to be expected, he supposed. The spider had to roam and hunt, where Amadan found his needs inhuman - which they were. That was where they differed. Bringing them to common ground would not be easy, if it was even possible, but for as much as he wanted to distance himself from the situation, he felt a certain sense of responsibility. Spiders were few and far between in Louisiana. Who could they count on if not each other?<br/><br/>"Enough, both of you," Drae urged, but without any real venom in his voice, only concern that the two would continue to clash if he said nothing. Seeing them at odds put his own unique situation into perspective, for although he possessed two undeniably different facets of personality, his were fused at their centers, living in harmony, where Amadan and the spider stood at opposing ends. He had his work cut out for him, of that he was certain.<br/><br/>"You can fix some things," he noted, taking a momentary glance around his dusty shop. "If you fix everything, the place will lose some of its creaky bayou charm. No one wants to buy 'authentic' French Quarter voodoo kitsch from a shop as flawless as a hotel lobby, you understand? Most of it stays." Although it remained to be seen what Drae intended to keep in the name of aesthetics, or what he refused to repair due to simple familiarity. He was a creature of habit. He did not like change.<br/><br/>Amadan, on the other hand, seemed much more adaptable. Perhaps he had to be, given his Romani blood. It seemed not wasted on him, with his youthful face and energetic personality. The Hex'ras had neither of those things. Which, he supposed, was why when next he looked at the man, he entertained a vague notion of attraction. For one reason or another, he had always been drawn to those not like himself. Bright. Vibrant. He cast a large enough shadow with his grim appearance and macabre sensibilities.<br/><br/>He would never attempt anything with the man, of course. Even admiring seemed wrong. Fortunately, Amadan broke his train of thought with the offer of a song, one that Drae did not suppose he had any right - or reason - to refuse. "... I suppose," he muttered at length, idly scraping the nails of long fingers against his palm - an idle fidget in the absence of the silk he usually fussed with in moments of boredom. "Then you can hang up the sign."