Self Reward

    Lottus raises a brow at Jagaimo, and leans back in his seat.

    "The hell are you on about, Word of Lottus?" he asks, a lip curling. "What do I care if those weaklings take their complexes out on others? If that's how they like to feel strong, all they prove is how weak they are. I don't preach - and I don't accept responsibility for the stupidity of those insects."

    Lottus regards Jagaimo, taking a draft of the drink she'd just refilled for him, and listens as she continues to speak her piece. When she stands, and asks her last question, Lottus tilts his head quizzically.

    "Damn, came in for food, and I get a lecture and an interrogation." he says, his face regaining its usual lopsided arrogant grin. "If someone could slit my throat - then they'd be damn good assassins; they'd have to do it before I could react though - and I doubt that very much. Otherwise, no - I've been sleeping either in my ship, or out in the dirt like the animal I am."

    Lottus stands from his seat, looking down at Jagaimo.

    "What's with all the questions and talk about the future anyways?" Lottus asks, crossing his arms over his chest. "I have no reason to think about the future; I don't have a future. And when I tried to have one, it went very badly. What's it to you, anyway?"

---

    Well, to say he had no idea was probably not correct. He knew, and he knows that he knows, the voice at the back of Lottus' head insisted aggravatingly. And he hated the idea of being put on a damn pedestal. They wouldn't be so quick to this nonsensical worship if they'd known the lengths to which he'd gone to, just to survive the hell hole that he'd banished himself to. He understood full well that Jagaimo was right - but he couldn't bring himself to care about these Saiyans. When Jagaimo raises her glass in amused cheers, Lottus raises his own glass and downs the rest of the contents.

    ...No, that wasn't quite right. He still retained his Pride, pride of being a member of the mightiest warrior race in the universe; Arcosians and other aliens be damned. The long and the short of it, he knew and refused to admit, is that he did care. He just doesn't want to care, not after everything he'd endured - and certainly not after being poisoned by Destron, only for the Kingdom to completely ignore his intensifying condition.

    At the sight of Jagaimo picking up and cleaning a knife, Lottus again tilts his head and crosses his arms over his chest. His coal black eyes follow the smaller Saiyan, and she actually puts the blade to his throat! He could disarm Jagaimo in an instant if he'd wanted to - but instead, his grin widens at the threat of the weapon at his skin. Her remark in his ear about an assassin just needing to be determined makes him snort a laugh.

    Her next comment, though, makes his grin drop. What was it about this one that made him so apparently... obvious, for lack of better words? Again, she was right - if he didn't have some kind of thoughts on the future, then he wouldn't have bothered hunting down the Demons that would reveal how he could literally defy death itself to return to life.

    When Jagaimo steps away, she still had more to say. Lottus frowns slightly at her comment.

    "...That's... what I'm doing though?" he says, unsure for a moment. What he saw next, makes the Saiyan's brows snap up. "...Oh."

    Lottus grimaces, and looks down at the now empty plates and bowls, at his empty mug. The workers had stepped away to begin cleaning - had they been talking for that long?? Lottus looks towards the front of the restaurant, and indeed the light outside was beginning to dim as the sun had started to dip beyond the mountain range. Through the window, Lottus could see the Kingdom Palace high on its perch, and he grunts.

    Lottus turns his eyes back to the ajar door, and beyond. The last time he'd let someone close... how many times could he take it? How many times could he let that in his chest? That damn, cold, sharp feeling when someone got close, and turned on him? ...Did it matter? Lottus taps his hand on the table, and leans his head back, snorting another laugh, and heads for the door Jagaimo had clearly intentionally left ajar.

    "I hate being outplayed..." he says. One last time, perhaps. If he was going to have to think about the future, then yeah - he'd ignore it, and keep living in the present.

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