Syx raised a brow and crossed his arms. So she was going straight to insults. That at least removed the option of goody-two-shoes type. But it did go with the dangerous look about her.
“Wendalyn, huh,” he mulled that over. Still a Scott. Safe to guess just as powered as the heroes he knew. Or at least his assumption unless proven otherwise, “Pleasure.”
“You can call me Syx or Mr. Blue. My other name is far too common around here,” he carefully avoided saying Megamind out loud. He was slowly getting more used to being addressed by Syx and it made passerby and cops far less suspicious of him than his villainous name. He raised an eyebrow in challenge, wondering if she’d take the low hanging fruit and mock his name.
[He wasn’t as easy to rile up as she’d hoped. It didn’t even seem like he’d swallowed his pride to stay calm, he was just mildly irritated. Even someone as ‘refined’ as Harrison got more upset over comments like that than this guy did. Interesting.]
[Wendalyn had heard of another blue man in this city by that same name, but she’d never bothered to meet him. At least, she was pretty sure this one wasn’t the same one, it had been a while since she’d smelled his scent, but this one didn’t smell like Alice and a half-human child.]
And how does someone come by a name like ‘Six’? [She cocks her head slightly in curiosity. And, in doing so, unintentionally causes the scar on her temple to be more obvious. To someone who has been in prison, it might be recognizable for what it is: a blunt force trauma scar. Like one might get from being hit repeatedly with a nightstick.]
His eyes were drawn instantly to the scar, a confused frown gracing his features as it distracted him from the question. Harrison’s Wayne had scars but the very idea of these tremendously powerful being ever being seriously hurt shook his very world view. Even more so now as a scar like that… Not only painful but potentially very deadly.
Snapping back to the conversation, he stuck his chin. He’d been mocked every which way about his name. Expecting someone do so again just validated the coil of resentment in his stomach.
His lips thinned as he spoke, “Syx, with a Y,” he drew in a breath to say something spiteful to nurse old childhood pain, but… he sighed and looked away. So much had changed in the last year and part of that had been the slow acceptance that maybe he did need to give people more of a chance, “It’s a pronounceable variant on my given name.”
His heel bounced in nerves so he started walking, towards the food court. If she was a danger to him it really wouldn’t matter where he was and he didn’t have gear on him to even begin to hope to take on a Glaupunk. Shrugging a shoulder in forced nonchalance, he told her, “I don’t know about you but I’d rather talk where I can get a cin-o-mon pretzel.”
RP backup 