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</div></div><br/><span style="font-size: 12px"><i>Space faerie.</i><br/>
<br/>
That was why Errol was so amusing to the Fae. It certainly wasn't her doom-and-gloom attitude, though even that could be humorous on the right occasion. Humans were constantly changing Chance's perspective on life, allowing her to vicariously experience their customs and conventions when it was convenient for her. It was like a vacation from her own reality, living like a human would without having to suffer from the countless problems humanity faced. When all was said and done, she could vacate the fleshlands and return to her own kind scot free, where they would have zero interest in her holiday on Earth so long as she didn't dispose of another Watcher. <br/>
<br/>
Her smile did seem rather Cheshire for a moment, didn't it? Death as entertainment certainly earned her approval.<br/>
<br/>
Now wasn't the time, of course. Rare was there a time and place the Fae could get away with all the things she wished to get away with, so she did less now than she did a decade ago and imagined the trend would continue until the boredom finally drove her elsewhere. She licked her lips when she spoke to Brock with a short, "See what I mean? <i>Space Faerie</i>. Humans just don't get it." With no more drink to focus on, her hands sought the cuff of her fur wrap, teasing at the collar while she decided how in-depth her answer would be. "You don't want to see the magic here, Hazel. It's not the whimsical storybook variety."<br/>
<br/>
Perhaps she meant to elaborate but found it insubstantial. How does one explain magic? <br/>
<br/>
"Don't sweat the bill. What use does a building have for paper currency?" Her sights lowered to her lap, set on how her position brought her closer to Brock, though she wasn't particularly trying to garner his attention. Their closeness was, all things considered, a natural response. The officer had more alcohol in him than he knew what to do with, and the hour was getting late. Late enough that it might be time to retire. "Oh, I'm not worried about Set any more than I worry about anyone else. It isn't my place to patrol lost souls." With her sights once more rising, the Fae asked, "Are you planning to stay the night, Brock? You strike me as the type to have a life and responsibilities, and staying here is indicative of ignoring both."</span>