The Voodoo Queen of Greater Moscow

[Xander]

God the woman talked too much. She was eating into the little puff he'd taken but she went on and Asha was grabbing his hand and leaning into him and there was nothing else to hold on to. He looked at her and she was a mixture of what he saw in Rowan and himself now that her fingers were entwined with his. Protective wasn't his nature, but something... he kept telling himself that it wasn't anything other than being a good person. But Xander knew he was lying to himself - he was not a good person.

Asha's question hung in the air. And Xander put a few peices together. She wasn't reading thoughts. Why ask what did you do? Why ask that simple question and still react this way. And she hadn't reacted as if she were kin with images. She felt - an empath. Xander had only met a self-proclaimed empath once but she was nothing but a micro-expressionist. She read people well. But Asha hadn't said anything to them about her ability who was he to say something.

But it put a new emphasis on his feelings. She was clinging to him, like he tried to block out the images. It was never easy. And it had taken years of practice to be able to walk around this many special people. When he was younger he'd have had a severe migraine. Instead of letting the Voodoo Queen his ire he focused on the food infront of him. The pot was good at one thing, and he was hungry before he came. Xander didn't gorge but he focused on the sweet fried goodness of the beignet. Ms. Rowan would never truly understand the snakes. He knew he wouldn't. Even if he met one. They were not good people either he didn't care what lies they told themselves - they killed for a living.