Who: Dessicant and Linn
When: Tuesday, early evening
Where: Just inside the carnival grounds.

Bundled up in his dark blue hoodie, his hands stuffed deep in the pockets, Linn felt pretty cozy. The outside air, after all, was pretty cold. But he could swear he smelled hot chocolate, and that was tempting him something awful, even if sugar was a bad idea because of wrestling. Plus, without his usual entourage of siblings with him, he could get something tasty without having to buy it for the rest of them, too. Definitely a good thing. He wandered to the edge of the carnival grounds, looking for a booth that might be selling something warm and creamy, and most importantly of all, sweet.

The blessing on the carnival grounds-- and high school, and college; who the hell had time and energy for such strong blessings on three damn places?-- was fading. Slowly but surely. Dessicant was prowling around the edges of it, not tempting fate by actually encroaching on it, but testing it, pacing the edges of it like a cat stalking the edges of the water as it slowly receded.

After all, it wasn't as if he had anything better to do. Dessicant was starting to think everything interesting about town had left with Mike and Hothrem and the dead demon brothers. All that was left were Peyton the Great Rambling Kid, his idiot employer, odd forms of chaos and darkness that seemed to be throwing the whole town into mourning pr panic or both, and plenty of music for when he needed an escape.

All right, so it wasn't that bad. Dessicant just wasn't in the mood to be optimistic right then. He spotted plenty of people, but none were close enough to actually curse yet. And pits be damned, he wanted to curse someone, or something, to counteract that awful blessing. Though that tall boy was getting close....

Linn stopped at a booth, squinting up at the menu, then turned away with annoyance. "God. If they don't have hot chocolate at the CHURRO place...." Well, it was pretty much a lost cause, he was sure of it now. Stuffing his hands further into his hoodie pocket, he wandered a bit further to the outside edge, curiously noticing how few people there were. Damn, it'd suck to have a booth out here... like, no business at all.

The demon made an effort to look less like he was pacing along an invisible line and more like he was going somewhere that happened to coincide with that invisible line-- and the boy's direction. They'd meet where the edge of the blessing went, if he didn't change course, and they could bump into each other or brush each other or even say hello... anything to get something dark-affinitied into all this light. He endeavored to look as if he weren't even paying attention to where he was going, casting his eye at the nearest food-stand ahead of them both. Perhaps he could manage running into and an actual conversation.

Yes. Linn was out of here. There was that little donut shop nearby. They'd have hot chocolate for sure. He started heading more for the edge of the carnival, his craving getting worse with each step, when his cell phone started playing the tune for his mom. Dangit. He fiddled with his messenger bag, trying to find it in the messy outer pocket, while he continued to walk, picking up his pace as if he already knew that she was going to be bugging him about coming home right away. There. Phone. He pulled it out just as it stopped ringing, and just as he saw something coming towards him. Too late. Linn ran right into a guy who had been going the opposite direction.

Dessicant couldn't have planned it better if he'd tried. He staggered back-- feigned, of course, since he'd been expecting the collision-- and fixed the boy with a dark glower. "Excuse me," he said, but he said it more like he expected an apology than as if he were apologizing, himself. And there were so many little things to curse on his person, too. A cell phone-- easy to ruin so that he didn't get any incoming calls. A bag-- straps to cause to break. Shoes-- the old favorite of shoelaces tripping him up.

It was a sad day when a demon could anticipate making someone trip, rather than something more debilitating. Dessicant was glad no one he knew back when he could kill people with curses was around, or even alive, to laugh at him.

"Sorry, man," Linn said, taking a step back and looking over the stranger, rubbing at his shoulder. It had been quite a collision, and daaang, that had hurt. And he was a healthy young wrestler! "you okay?" This guy was kinda oldish... like 45, Linn would guess. You had to be careful with old people. They got hurt easily.

Given any damage Dessicant had sustained-- minor, probably not even a bruise-- had healed up within seconds, he just scowled more darkly. "No thanks to you. You should watch where you're going, whelp, not be playing around with cell phones." He said the last as if it were some kind of disgusting bug. Hey, he was old, far older than Linn could even guess; he was allowed to dislike new technology.

And new technology was so easy to mess up. Dessicant had been hoarding curse-strength for two days, now, and with his glare at the offending piece of plastic and silicon, he launched it all at it. The thing beeped once, as if acknowledging that it had been tampered with, then went silent again.

The beep reminded Linn that he probably had a voice mail from his mom, so he dialed the voicemail and entered in his passcode. While waiting for it go through, he said, "Dude, everyone has cell phones. That's how parents get a hold of their kids nowadays, you know?" The phone cut off. "Dangit." No reception here in the carnival...

Dessicant sniffed to hide a smirk at his curse already in action. It wouldn't last forever, but certainly long enough to be annoying and, if he was lucky, long enough for this boy to actually and inadvertently cause some trouble with it. "That doesn't mean I have to like them," he countered. "Everyone walking around with a phone pressed to their ear... ignoring the rest of the world for a conversation with someone miles away." He snorted, and the proximity to so much light-affinity combined with that single, forced-out breath made him break out into a coughing fit. Pits damn it.

"Whatever." Linn stuck his cell phone back in his bag and looked back at Dessicant. "You know, I'd rather not have to talk to my mother all the time, but if she calls? I have to answer. And if I don't? It's Grounded-City for me -- and a weekend full of baby-sitting." At least he had an excuse right now. Bad reception, high-fives.

"Oh, baby-sitting, the horror," Dessicant drawled once he could speak again, his voice sounding a little more hoarse now. Though he would probably hate every minute of it, himself, he had no qualms mocking the whelp over it. "I expect you'll just have to answer the phone, then. Try not to run into more people while you're at it, boy. I would've considered it common sense to stop walking, at least, if you were going to start fumbling for a phone."

He was obviously a sick old bastard, even if he WAS rude... But Linn frowned a bit at the way Dessicant was being overly nit-picky, and suddenly didn't feel very forgiving. "Look, old man. I said sorry for bumping into you. You said you were fine... What more do you want from me? A written apology? A promise to stay out of your way? Wha--" But before he could continue, Linn's phone started ringing again.

"So are you going to answer that, in the middle of your tirade?" Dessicant asked, watching him with a peeved expression, though it took effort not to smile, instead. Perfect timing. Oh, this was going to be a good curse-- he almost hoped he could manage to follow the boy to see how long it lasted and how much trouble it would cause him.

With a glare at Dessicant, Linn reached in his bag, fiddling around til he found the phone and pulled it out. "Shit. My mom again!" He punched "talk" and answered, "Yeah?" Then, after a moment, added. "Hello? Mom? MOM?!" He walked around in a circle, saying, "hello? Can you hear me?" then finally slammed the phone shut with annoyance. "...stupid phone...no reception STILL."

This time Dessicant didn't bother not looking amused. He didn't look very amused, but even a grouchy old demon like him could find someone shouting into their phone like that funny. "Small towns, sometimes that happens," he pointed out. "Coverage doesn't quite reach out in the woods, like this, sometimes."

"Yes. Very funny..." Linn couldn't explain his frustration. Usually he was a very easy-going guy. But something... was it this guy? Was it his faulty cell phone? Was it the fact that he still hadn't gotten his hot chocolate?... something was rubbing him the wrong way, and it wasn't amusing for Linn in the least. He shoved his hands back into his pocket, along with his cell phone.

This was really rather entertaining. A good curse, small or not, always managed to lift Dessicant's spirits. He was tempted to try another, but... no. The idea alone was exhausting, and he was still too close to that blessing-- though his little darkness had eroded it that much more. He felt like he could breathe a little easier, perhaps. He'd leave the boy's things alone, for now.

"What's your name, boy?" he asked, tone less hostile now and more curious.

"Excuse me?" Linn took a step back, looking the man in front of him over warily. "You just spent the last five minutes chewing me out, and now you want to know my NAME?" Wasn't there something about not giving your names to strangers? Or was he too old for that rule to apply? "Um... you tell me your name first."

"David," Dessicant rasped, smirking faintly. "David Cant. Do you want an address, too, or is that sufficient?"

Linn was appeased. "I'm Linn Constable. And no need for your address, because I'm not giving you mine." He was tempted to stick his tongue out for good measure, but decided against it. His peers might think it was funny. But this guy? He might just take offense and smack him for it.

"Linn Constable. I would say it's a pleasure to meet you, but...." Dessicant smirked more. "I believe I'll leave you to your bad reception and this...." He waved a hand vaguely at the carnival with an expression of distaste. "Whatever you were doing."

"Getting hot chocolate. And getting an annoying phone call from my mom, thank you." He looked the guy over again, trying to memorize his name to go with his face, but knowing he'd probably get it all wrong in the end. "Stay out of the way of young whipper-snappers like me, and you might just have a nice afternoon, Mr. Cant."

"Perhaps I might," Dessicant answered mildly, though he thought that this little encounter would be the highlight of his day. "Good luck with your mother."

And with that, he sauntered off, away from the carnival and his entertainment for the evening.