<div class="floatleft">(http://images.en.yibada.com/data/images/full/44527/jesse-williams.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Kumiho (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=250173.msg12368433#msg12368433)<br/><strong>City | Date | Time:</strong>Prague | December 20th, 2016 | 7pm<br/><strong>Tagging | Mentioning:</strong>Max<br/><strong>Content:</strong>First Meetings<br/><br/>Kumiho took no offense from the bump he received on the sidewalk. He was admittedly looking in every direction, and anyway he was not one of those to bristle at the simplest slight.  Growing up socialized as a girl he'd been more likely to shy away and apologize then bristle and boast, and now that he had his choice of who to be, he still found little interest in causing a fight.  Or at least, not unless there was something more interesting about it than passerby on the street.<br/><br/>He had been willing to simply continue on his way, but noticed that the fellow stopped to make apologies, or conversation.  Kumiho stopped as well, turning to face the man, who was admittedly striking.  And American, by the sound of him.  In his current guise, one of his most common ones, Kumiho appeared to be a man of possibly mixed ethnicity, not too tall, dressed in a leather jacket and a pair of cargo pants.  "It's no problem," he responded in English, with an accent that Kumi had swiped from a Maltese man he had met once.  It was one of his favorite accents in the world and he had trained himself to use it when in this form.<br/><br/>With the man's next question, Kumiho paused to examine the man's face.  It was an interesting question, one because Kumiho was very good with faces, and so was unlikely to miss out on recognizing someone he had met.  Two, however, was because it was a very rare thing for someone to say to Kumi.  Being recognized did not come often to someone who changed faces the way others changed clothing.  This was a form Kumi used often, but still, it was a rarity, particularly somewhere like Prague that he had never visited before.<br/><br/>"It doesn't seem likely," Kumiho replied, examining the man's face.  It might be slightly familiar.  "I've only been here for two days, and that in my hotel room for the most part.  Perhaps we stay at the same hotel?"  It was a possibility, Kumi supposed, though this gentleman likely stayed at a much nicer hotel than Kumi.  But who would stop someone on the street because you had seen them in the hotel lobby before?  What was this man's game?