Page 65 - Demo

“Is this seat taken?” A man, bald, square. Spacer genes, looked like. He should have been squat but instead looked elongated, uncannily loose in the joints and with fingers more noodlelike than they should have been. He stared into me, eyes like the setting sun, having shaken me from my furor, seeming to look for something more than a yes or a no. I simply shook my head.
“Is everything alright, justiciar? You looked rather beatific.” he said, sliding into his seat and dropping a knapsack between his legs, his knees rising above his waist. The chair was too low for him.
“How did you know, young man?” I replied.
“Dressed in the clothing of academia long past, the fading hair, beard. The look of great sorrow facing some unknown horror in the distance.” was the quick reply.
“That common, hrrm?”
“No.”
I was confused. He had deduced much from the outside, as if it were a simple task.
A smile was beginning to creep across his face, revealing stark white teeth arrayed all manner of incorrect. A deep sense of unease began to rise with that grin.
“Actually, it’s very rare. Some might even be inclined to say, unique. Unique to one Saul Jedidiah Black.” he continued “Citizen A(E)-9653. The Watchman. Many names for one man, don’t you think? Do you have as many faces?”
At this point that unease had boiled and simmered into fear. I felt my jaw slide loose, agape. At no point did he stop smiling, saying everything with such candid candor, so matter of fact, so...amiably. With a grin he had reduced me from person to specimen. His eyes scanned me. Rarely had I felt so scrutinised. I was back in school, again, and had just answered incorrectly.
“What’s the matter, Saul? Gavel got your—” “Who are you?” I interjected. “Nobody of any note.” he lied, through his crooked, awful teeth.