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trowa barton

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Trowa has a mug. (Hot cider.) He also has a table.

He doesn't look like he's people-watching, especially, but he is.

[Tinytag was made in a lab: x5-494(alec)]

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Yeah? How about that. 494 doesn't like to be watched. Not all that easy when he's being careless on purpose, though. His barcode's exposed, and he's being generally gregarious tonight. He orders his own drink from the bar (probably spiked, whatever it is) and flops down backwards on the stool, leaning his elbows on the counter.

He's no dummy. He knows enough about watching to know when someone's eyes are on him. He stares back, one eyebrow cocked.

Trowa knows when he's being watched, too.

He gives it a minute or two. The rest of the room is also interesting, and Trowa doesn't believe in showing his hand quickly. (Or, well, pretty much ever.)

Then he returns the look, impassively.

He huffs.

"You weren't made in a lab by any chance, were you?"

There's a type, you see.

There's a question you don't get every day.

". . . I doubt it."

He tsk!s and cants his head for a moment.

"Well, nobody likes a know-it-all."

Heh.

Because 494 is never that.

"Were you?"

If this is the small talk of choice.

"Now what makes you say that?"

It might be his perfect bone structure and stunning physique. He's really got quite a lot going for him.

Trowa shrugs.

He's helpful like that.

494 eyes him for a moment, still smiling without meaning it.

Then:

"You ever met someone made in a lab?"

Well, there's X-23. They didn't discuss that part.

And most of Quatre's family. Technically.

Beyond that, you have to start getting into creative definitions.

Trowa says: "It doesn't come up in conversation much."

494 tips his glass at him. "See, you're just hanging out with predictable people, that's your trouble."

Clearly he knows what he's talking about. As a close personal associate familiar with everything Trowa.

Trowa allows, with a slight tilt of the head, that this may be the case.

That's helpful.

494 drums his fingers along the counter.

"Are you always this loquacious?"

"Usually."

Sometimes he's even worse!

That's incredible.

He shakes his head.

"How do people keep up?"

If Trowa had a better sense of humor, he would deadpan something.

But he doesn't.

So he's silent.

(Worse: maybe this is his sense of humor.)

He's still staring, though, right?

Careful, 494 might throw something, just to get a reaction.

He's been known to do it.

But goodness, they've only just been introduced. Or, without the exchange of... just about anything. Still, it's too early to break out that particular party trick.

"So if you weren't made in a lab," he assays, "what's your excuse?"

"For what?"

He probably knows.

"Your overbearing charm, what else?"

If he'd asked straight out, he might have gotten an answer.

Then again, maybe not.

"I guess I'm just lucky."

The world may never know, alas.

"Don't hog all the glory, pal; we're all beneficiaries. Laugh, and the whole world laughs with you." He slouches a little. "Or, you know, whatever."

"I'm a clown," Trowa volunteers, after a pause.

This is still completely deadpan.

Because Trowa is the most jolly clown ever.

"Apparently clowns freak people out."

Normal people.

Which he's laying no claim to.

Somewhere, the narration is chuckling to itself.

This has never made any sense to Trowa.

Maybe -- just maybe! -- he isn't totally normal either.

He shrugs.

494 leans forward.

"So, what's your clowning specialty?"

Having knives thrown at him!

He doesn't mention that one, though.

"Mostly tightrope."

Also: lions! He finds them very friendly.

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