Open Finished There's something out there

Restless. Maarab stalked through the streets, hands clenching and unclenching, just a light jacket on to protect him from the gently falling snow. The neon lights reflected off the ground in a rainbow of light that made him squint, though up above it was a dark night. Aside from the snow, the weather was mild, and there were enough other people out that Maarab could not just lose himself in staring at the snowflakes.

Besides, it was people he wanted now. Being alone was not helping and books were only raising more questions. If he were home, he would just pick a fight. But if he were home- Maarab laughed to himself and shook his head. Then he stopped right in the middle of the sidewalk, making sure no one was about to run into him, and looked around at the buildings, or rather the people in front of them.

He was unfamiliar with most places on the strip, usually heading to the arena if he needed to stop thinking. Tonight he wanted something else, even if he could not have said what, and he did have a little money saved up. Scratching at the scar on his neck, Maarab came to a decision and walked over to a building with music coming out of it and a short line of people waiting to get in.

Pulling out his phone, Maarab cleared his throat to get the attention of the person at the end of the line. Then he used his text to speech to ask. "Is this a good place for dancing." He should not need to do this awkward sort of talking much if it was.

At the sound of a voice, Maarab turned to look at the man addressing him. Nothing really stood out, and he did not recognize the man either. He shrugged at the man's statements, glancing at the head of the line where someone was whining to the bouncer, before returning his gaze to the stranger. He typed, "Having music does not mean the dancing is good. "

Maarab laughed then, a brief sound, thinking that the best dancing he'd done on this island had been because of the conversation rather than the dance. That would be awkward to do now, having to talk with his phone. He considered a moment before typing some more. "Have you been in any other place you could suggest." Then he paused before adding. "I am new here."

It was mostly true. Even if it had been a couple of months since he'd come back to the island, he was still adjusting.

Maarab would not have minded going to a rough club. He imagined the rougher places would be most similar to what he was used to from home. He gave the man a brief sharp-toothed grin that did not reach his eye. But he made no comment. One benefit of his tongue being gone - he had time to think before he spoke, and he had asked for the man's opinion.

The joke flew over his head, but it did remind him he had not given his name. He frowned down at his phone before typing it, "Maarab ." The robotic voice always got the pronunciation wrong. He shook his head at the sound.

Listening to Umiko talk about the other clubs, Maarab heard more words he did not know. He laughed softly to himself. Even something as simple as music was more complicated here. His hand clenched again at his side, the sting from his injury a mild distraction. He still did not know what he was looking for tonight.

"I am not sure what techno or disco are." He typed, not passing up an opportunity to satisfy his curiousity when he was permitted. With a humourless smirk, Maarab added "There was not a lot of music at home. "

Maarab nodded at Umiko's response. He'd suspected from the context that they had something to do with music anyway. The man's side question only got a shrug. Maarab had no idea what the origins of his name were nor did he have any desire to ask his father. For all he knew it might be Arabian.

The following explanation had Maarab throwing back his head to laugh, snowflakes falling into his face. There was a manic edge to it, but it was more cheerful than his previous laughter had been. That done he returned his gaze to the other man still grinning. The line had moved on and he did not follow it.

"This island makes even music confusing." The robotic monotone of the text-to-speech gave no hint to his feelings, and his only expression was that sharp-toothed smile. He might have asked more questions, but he felt like it would not help much.

Still, Maarab was curious, needed a distraction. And he had no problem following a complete stranger to a different bar. It was not his first time interacting with someone on this island he knew nothing about. He nodded, typing, "Sounds interesting. Where is this place."

"My home was very simple. " A frown flickered over Maarab's face at that, quickly covered up with a grin. It was hard to stop making comparisons. "Never been to narrow reality either." Or at least he had not been there more than a day or so. His thoughts were too complicated for the limited text to speech and he unconsciously put his hand over his mouth in a frustrated gesture.

When Umiko revealed that he was centuries old Maarab paid closer attention to the man, looking him up and down as if that would tell him anything. In his mind age deserved some respect, even if this was a softer place than the outpost. He hummed to himself, missing his tongue, only typing, "Have you lived here long. "

Looking over his shoulder where Umiko pointed, Maarab had to squint against the neon glare. Then he made his way over to the bar. He hoped it was not as bright inside.