[h2]Rider, Outside the Tohsaka Manor[/h2]

Certainly, the evening was shaping up to be fun. Taking advantage of the reduced amount of potential witnesses, Sigurd had elected to phase into physical form as soon as they were near their objective—which was certainly risky, but nonetheless, feeling the fresh breeze instead of the stale air of the hotel room was certainly a welcome change of pace. His footsteps were heavy, certainly, but not nearly as much as one would suspect a man of such size that carried his weapon guilty of, and he cradled in his hand one of the various bottles his Master had brought along for the trip. Already down to half—though that meant there was still a good half a liter within—the Servant took another swing, savoring it.

At the very least, it was not some terrible brew like what the man had told him was created in this country in an attempt similar to someone trying to weave a horror story. Chuckling lightly at the memory, he filed it away for later—now it was time for a different kind of amusement.

And what fun he would have, indeed, with whatever it was that lied within the Manor. His lips upturned into a grin that showed far too many teeth, and red his eyes seemingly sparked on their own, like flickering flames, as he could not help but notice the sword at his back was getting heavier and heavier at just that single thought. It was harder and harder to contain that joy—who knew, perhaps a fight with whatever it was the Master had summoned would prove itself to be what he needed to shake off that annoying feeling that had been plaguing him through this second chance so far, preferably for good.

However, it seemed that he was going to take longer than he should have, courtesy of a third guest planting himself in the middle of the little gathering beyond his Master and he. Taking in the looks of the man—certainly old, although it felt hypocritical of him to say that—he certainly did not much look the part of threatening, but appearances could deceive. He wondered how to approach this, but his Master was so kind as to blatantly walk up to him and start demanding papers for some reason or another.

Certainly, by the looks of things—two Europeans meeting in a Japanese town, one of them looking like he was ready for war and yelling at the other in German—it was already shaping up to seem like a comedy skit, and it wasn’t like he had to kill ‘Tony’, as he had introduced himself—since his Master so brazenly revealed himself, he guessed that he was not some civilian the soldier could shoo away with just one spell or other.

Walking up to the pair of them, bottle in hand, he stood beside his Master, ready for whatever it was the other man would say in response to seeing his appearance as of now. For whatever reason, however, he had not been expecting him to suddenly focus so keenly that Sigurd felt, for a single instant, like his soul was being stared at, so penetrating was that glare. Shrugging the feeling off but determining this was certainly no simple man, he matched the stare with his own.

“Demon, you say?” His voice came out light and jovial, much like always, almost as if offending him was an impossibility, and he brought a hand up to his face to sniff—as though taking the words with humor. The change in the old man’s demeanor was certainly something else, but the fact of the matter was that it’d take yet more than that to make a fool like this one drop the amicable façade, but he nonetheless stepped a touch closer to his Master just in case their new acquaintance tried something. “Well, I’ve been [i]called[/i] one, but never really got told I [i]smelled[/i] like one. . .and I’m not really sure whether the definitions we’re using are the same, either.” He certainly seemed carefree enough still, however, to jest at a time like this, but his head soon turned towards the Manor, his eyes narrowed a touch and the smile on his face diminished somewhat.

Turning his head back to meet the man’s gaze again, his next words sounded regretful. “Not to offend or anything, though, but we kind of have a prior engagement, and it might take a bit to sort it out,” He said, chancing a look at the bottle in his hand and then holding it out for the other man to take. “If you choose to stay, though, I’m pretty sure we can give you directions afterwards.”

Well, at least [i]he[/i] would try. He had little clue what his Master would do with the man if he caught him again after they were done with. . .what was it he had heard the term was. . .house-warming party? Sounded pretty good, so it was probably that. Speaking of. . .

“Hey, Master, are we going to get on with it? If we’re going to do it, might as well hurry it up, unless you want to deal with possible friends they’ve called up or losing whoever is in there for now.”

The only situation where he’d find that last one acceptable was the scenario in which whoever greeted them was of the ‘stick-in-the-mud’ type. He certainly had had enough of dealing with those for a lifetime, and he did not wish for that to extend into the second, however short-lived it might be.

[@Over Illusion] [@Angry Hungarian]