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abe no seimei

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Abe no Seimei, clad in a blue-grey winter kimono, is sitting at a small kotatsu at the end of the back porch. On the kotatsu is a large flask of hot sake and two cups, one of which Seimei occasionally pours into and drinks from. He is reading from a Latin translation of The Tale of Genji that he obtained from the library.

One might wonder why there’s a second cup of sake there. Perhaps he’s expecting someone.

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Klaus is... not dressed for winter. Sure, he's wearing a coat, in that what he has draped over his chest is not a shirt, and has longer sleeves, but it's too light to really keep out any of the cold. And his skirt is both too tight and too short to provide any protection from... anything, really.

He looks awesome and he knows it. Still, he shivers a bit when he steps out onto the porch, absent-mindedly lighting a cigarette, waving off the scolding of the rat that kept him from enjoying his cigarette on the couch, where it was much warmer, thanks.

He'd shiver more if he wasn't so drugged, but... eh. Call it another benefit.

Oh, that doesn’t look at all comfortable. “Over here. Come sit down, before you start losing bits to frostbite.” Seimei indicates the kneeling cushion of the kotatsu that’s kitty-corner to him on his right.

Klaus grins, a little crookedly, at 'bits' - let's be honest, his sense of humor stopped somewhere in the pre-teen region, and never really evolved beyond there.

(Lies, but his more evolved sense of humor requires a bit more sobriety than he has on him at the moment)

"I mean, if you insist, sweetie." Klaus has no idea what to make of this setup, but hell, he'll kneel on a cushion if a good looking guy asks, sure. He sashays over, his drop down onto the cushion less grace and more 'gangly fawn', but he makes it.

Grace is also something that requires a bit more sobriety than he has on him at the moment.

When the fellow (presumably a fellow, but that skirt leaves some room for ambiguity) comes close enough to sit down, Seimei can sense that he has what might be an untrained magical talent. The fact that he is screamingly-obviously-to-nonmagical-senses high might be related. Unlucky mages without training can often end up in the sad state of either self-medicating or being medicated by others.

"There is an electric heater under the table," Seimei says. "If you drape the skirt of the table over your legs, you will feel warmer."

Klaus blinks not... really tracking the reasoning here (he got distracted by the bits and the kneeling), but.. hey yeah, sure, warmth for the win, right? He fiddles with the blankets, more to show willing than any real plan.

"Cigarette?" He asks, waving his half-empty pack.

“I thank you for your generous offer, but I gave up cigarettes some time ago.” Seimei smokes pipes or cigars, still, but he’s found cigarettes too easy to use unmindfully.

“I would be remiss if I did not act in a similar spirit of generosity. Would you care for some hot sake?” He indicates the flask which, though it has been sitting out for some time, is still somehow at the perfect temperature. Funny how that works.

Klaus' Japanese is flawless, if a little informal, when he replies yes, please, and thank you with a wobbly sort of half-bow that is about as close as he gets to manners at this point.

Well. That was a surprise.

Seimei passes his hand over the flask with a little flourish (which looks like an idiosyncratic gesture, but is really a simple spell to bring down the alcohol content, since Klaus probably doesn’t need any more intoxicants). He lifts the flask and pours smoothly into Klaus’ cup, and then his own. The sake has a dry crisp scent, and releases small wisps of steam into the cold air.

Seimei lifts his cup in a toast. “Kanpai.”

Klaus returns the salute, languidly, and takes a sip.

Frowns.

Takes another sip.

"Dude, you got robbed." He snickers, setting the cup down. Yeeeah, that stuff's practically water, isn't it?

Seimei chuckles. “Sake that is too strong does not pair well with reading,” he pats his book. “Since I do not wish to disappoint you by giving you only my ‘reading sake,’ would you like something to eat?”

Klaus does look sort of chronically underfed.

Klaus hums, consideringly, as he sucks smoke into his lungs. He's not, like, starving, but when is he starving when there's chemical goodness to keep it at bay? He rolls his head to ask Ben, it's polite to look at people when you ask them things...

Oooh right.

Ben's not here.

Ben... was here, once, but... not right now, evidently.

He huffs at Sir-Not-Appearing-In-This-Thread, and goes back to considering. Like, he could go for all sorts of things, like... eggs, everyone likes eggs, right? But... meeeeeeh, kinda... gloppy, you know? Or like... bacon. Mom made the best bacon. So this wouldn't be as good as that, and thus just disappointing. So.

"Ever had pancakes?"

“Ah! Yes. Do you prefer flavored syrup or classic maple syrup?”

And yes, Seimei noticed Klaus looking for someone or something that wasn’t there. He leaves it unremarked upon for the time being, but makes a mental note and files it away for later.

"I mean, classics are classic for a reason, right?" Klaus reasons. "Though, and hear me out here... nutella."

Look, when you have to go fight a freaking national treasure it's a bad day, but discovering what they do to baked goods in France was a revelation to tiny Klaus.

"Ah! An excellent suggestion." Seimei nods. "I am sure we can accommodate multiple options." Pause. "Would you care to see a magic trick? It will conclude with us obtaining pancakes."

And neither of them will have to get up and go to the back door.

Five isn't the only Hargreeves sibling who can arch his eyebrow nearly to his hairline, turns out. Klaus smirks at this fellow, blowing smoke at the lake.

"I mean, security proooobably won't bother us out here, cutie."

Misinterpretation may have occured, here.

Hoo boy, yes it did. “I am flattered, but...that would be getting ahead of ourselves.” He smiled, with an implied but perhaps later.

(Later, if Klaus is still interested while sober.)

“I meant this.” Seimei pulls a piece of origami paper and a fountain pen from the sleeve of his kimono. He writes on the paper two stacks of pancakes and Nutella and maple syrup, among other things. Then he caps the pen and puts it away.

The paper he folds into a little manikin, with the writing mostly on the inside. He lifts it up, exhales on it gently, and puts it on the boards of the porch. The manikin bows to him, then to Klaus, before trotting to the back door, flattening itself through the crack between the door and the threshold, and disappearing.

“The next part is a bit of a wait,” Seimei says, “but not a long one.”

The short answer to that question is yes.

The long answer is that Klaus has zero intention of being intentionally sober for any period of time, ever again, so... that could be a problem if it's a prerequisite.

For right now, he's trying to suss out if he really did just see that. He's pretty sure he did, because this dude seems to think something happened, and the piece of paper isn't anywhere in sight, so.

"That's a pretty useful trick." Unlike, you know, some others. Klaus may be insanely jealous.

“Useful for a great many things,” Seimei agrees. “Pancakes are just the beginning.”

He smiles and introduces himself. “I am Abe no Seimei. You can call me Abe-san, or just Seimei, depending on how formal or informal you prefer to be.”

'Oh really' says that eyebrow, arched high again, now accompanied by an unrepentant grin. Creativity is (almost) always a plus.

"So, for the record... which is which?" He asks, with no actual working comprehension of Japanese at his disposal.

Edited 2020-03-11 15:46 (UTC)

Now Seimei is wondering where that fluent (though wobbly) greeting came from. Not any normal thought process, it seems.

“Abe-san is the formal one,” he says. “Abe is my surname. Seimei is my given name. I would like to know what I should call you.”

At this point the back food opens and two waitrats emerge carrying two stacks of fluffy pancakes, nutella spread, some whipped butter, maple syrup, fresh fruit, tea, and all the requisite plates and flatware. Seimei thanks the waitrats after everything is transferred to the table.

(See, just as he promised - the magic trick produced pancakes.)

"Ooooh." He still isn't sure which one to use, but figures that can be more of a trial and error sort of thing. "I'm Klaus. Which is like... pretty much always casual."

Klaus only knows one person who has the ability to say words and instantly formalize them, but thankfully he hasn't had the misfortune of running across dear old Daddy for a while now.

"Oh my god, they look amazing." Klaus beams, entirely taken by this unexpected breakfast bonanza.

“They smell wonderful too,” Seimei concurs. He spreads some butter on the topmost of his pancakes and pours on a little maple syrup, mostly to let Klaus have first dibs on the Nutella.

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