Anything For a Free Meal

Terry had been offered the deal of all time: go to dinner with some dude and let him insult you. For a free lunch of his choice, five days out of seven, that was a fucking bargain. Naturally, he'd given a hearty 'fuck yeah' and went for it.

That was why Terry was sat in some sushi place with an ugly goblin thing. There was also the odd request to talk about it about Fae stuff. So Terry pieced together it was some kinda Fae.

He didn't know much about Underhill or the Fae, Terry had never interacted much with any of them, and he'd never even stepped food in Underhill. What was he supposed to tell the thing (Box was his name, of all things.)

Terry figured Box would have known more about all of that than he would, but sure, whatever.

Once the twp of them had been seated across from each other (looking suspiciously like a date but Terry didn't care), and Terry had ordered water and some calamari, he'd folded his hands and grinned at the thing across from him.

"You're pronouncing it wrong," Terry said before taking a sip of his newly arrived water. "It's pronounced Poo-kah. Just like it's spelled."

Terry wasn't bothered enough to feel offended. Not just because he knew about Box's condition or because he was basically being paid to be here, but because he got worse shite from his best mates.

Hell, Corn Chip had even tried to sell his fuckin' soul to what amounted to the Devil. What a prick. Still, Terry couldn't even be that angry over that, seeing as he was well and fine. Oneupmanship was just a way of life for him at this point.

Even as Box was doing a poor job at insulting him, Terry rolled with it and answered his questions as if he were a small child who didn't understand he was being offensive. He figured that was a good approach to take to this whole thing.

"We can shapeshift. I don't know if other Pookah have glamour, but I don't. This is just how I look. I like the piercings 'n' shite. Mostly we just shapeshift inta animal stuff."

He speared his calamari when it arrived and took a big bite, smiling wide and making a pleasing sound. Feckin' worth it.

"That's why I told you how to pronounce it," Terry quipped back. He ate a bit more, then sighed and interlocked his fingers before resting his chin on them to stare at Box. He smiled loosely.

"What if I don't want to drag attention to meself? Ain't the point of most Fae to not drag attention to our power and trick people? At me nature especially, I'm a trickster and a tall talker. So there ain't much a point in me havin' people lookin' at me."

Terry wasn't sure what to tell Box, but Box was asking for a story, and Terry never turned those down. And then he went on to ask the big question, why could Box lie when so many couldn't. Terry didn't have an answer for that. Sometimes things just were the way they were.

"Lemme tells ye a story," he said as if to answer both Box's inquiries at once. "When I was a wee bab me mam left me on the doorstep o' some poor family as their kiddo. T'was a debt for their kindness. She paid 'em forward.

"I saw 'er as I got older. She was always this beautiful black mare. Can't really give 'er justice with words alone. All shiny coat and strong lookin'. She didn' look like a real horse, too graceful and she 'ad this horn on 'er head. Not quite like a unicorn, but ye get the jiff."

He scratched his jawline thoughtfully, letting the description sink in a little and the tension build before continuing his tale. "Anyway, she taught me all I know about being a Pookah and bein' a Fae. Didn' involve a whole lot o' talkin', but she told me about how there was power in me words, whether they was true or not.

"Lies are a subjective matter. Nort to most, but fer Fae like us. I guess we don't lie so much as we like to stretch things."