Lewin Listens, Wrinkling His Nose And Staring Crosseyed At The Finger As His Nose Is Poked. Was It Really

Lewin listens, wrinkling his nose and staring crosseyed at the finger as his nose is poked. Was it really weird to ask questions? But it was his favorite part of the world - learning. All in all, he still couldn't understand why being called that could make him, or anyone else, angry. "Okay." It's said with the same childish, uncaring bluntness.

"Being weird doesn't sound bad," he declares to Mitch, deciding to accept the label, even if he still doesn't understand the joke. "Are you weird?"

Mitch's smile falls. This... is different than when he calls Ridley weird. Someone that typically flusters and lashes out, and then very quickly, loudly, defensively says 'I want to be weird! I love weird!' ...It's easy to recognize that she's lonely and feeling isolated, unsure of where she belongs, feeling like the world is against her. She has to pretend to take pride in it. Mitch hasn't been perfect with her either - the name 'weirdo' casually slips despite what it means to her, despite his attempts to get on her nerves. But... Ridley does recognize that Mitch truly does respect her and admires her skills at the end of the day, despite the fights Mitch may cause by using that word. Be a little more sensitive, a little more kind. Children are delicate little things that do carry the things they're told forever.

"...Yeah," he says anyway. What's he going to say - Mitch calls him a 'weirdo' and doesn't mean it? Would that not be a form of dishonesty? No, he's going to double down instead, damned the consequences. "I think you're weird, for a ton of reasons. You ask too many questions and it comes off as rude. That's one of them. There's no one out here quite like you.

"...But, I guess I like you anyway," he lifts a hand, booping Lewin's nose, "weird and all. You're blunt, a little thoughtless, difficult to rein in - despite all of that, I want to stick with you."

After having gulped down of the now lukewarm broth, Lewin grabs the fork in a fist and is about to dig in when the man talks again. He makes a face, giving the clown a suspicious look.

"He's dead," he bluntly says.

He's patient as always in the thoughtful silence, though he can only imagine what's going through Lewin's busy little head.

"Aren't you clever! Indeed I a- UWAH! Be careful!" A quick adjustment in temperature via some hastily manifested ice cubes.

Smaller in stature but no less of a handful; Osceola really had his work cut out for him back then. "Goodness me. Yes, I'm a demon. And you, my boy, are Lewin Light. I've heard many a story about you from your father."

Oh no, his treats! They are taken away!

"Why not?"

Are those gummies on the floor?

hey kid, where did you grow up? what was your parents like?

He's staaaaring at what looks like a grey coal tar. That talks. Question goes ignored.

"What kind of demon are you?"

"My parents said I'm unnatural and possessed by demons," Lewin says casually, still looking straight at Mitch. "I'm not possessed by demons, but I am weird?" he questions, since Mitch seems to insist on that.

"Most people don't like being seen as weird, freaky, unnatural... they think it's just bad, to not be natural.

"But, hey - if you don't think being a weirdo is bad, all the more power to you, kiddy. You don't have to see it the way other people see it."

"I've been to the Vatican," Lewin says, not taking his eyes off the view. The world is a fascinating place for the little kid. "I think Japan is farther." He still has no idea how he ended up here.

He looks to Mitch. "You don't looks Japanese," he states as a way of asking here he is from.

"Everyone has their own personal reason. They'll tell you, if they want you to know." Mitch shrugs, approaching the railing after Lewin, but still trying to give the kid his space. Once there, he steps up onto it, then rests both his arms, crossed, on top.

"Japan," he corrects. "True Cross, Tokyo, I'm p sure. ...You've been this far from home before?"