"If you’re looking for sympathy or comfort, you’ve come to the wrong man. You’re strong—powerful magically—I can sense it. But you’re also smart. Smart enough to know I won’t fall for your charade. Why are you really here?”
I didn’t ask for sympathy or comfort. Camaraderie of equals requires neither. I’m powerful; you’re powerful. You’re not out to make friends; neither am I. I suspect beyond an affinity for bats there is a great deal we have in common, so it stands to reason a possible alliance could be mutually beneficial.
But if you think otherwise, feel free to let me know and I’ll look elsewhere.
New faces, cheers.
Your next pint’s on me if you’re willing to hear me out on a job pitch, without waltzing out on me until I’ve finished.
"What the hell do you want, kid?"
In general? The same things anybody wants, I suppose— to not feel quite so alone in the big bad world. Uniqueness has its virtues, of course, but loneliness does not.
"I don’t have a lot of friends. By choice."
Look at that— another thing we have in common.
"So you’re into bats. That’s cute. But why should I care?"
Well, do you have a lot of friends who share your interests?
"What exactly is it you think I want then?"
Well, beyond a desire to lecture me about magic, I haven’t the slightest notion what you want. That’s why I thought it was a better question to ask if you wanted to know me rather than if you did know me.
"Funny how you think you know my interests. I can smell the magic on you. Don’t go down that road."
Funny how? Was I wrong about the bat thing?
"You look to be about the right age, but you’re still not really my type."
A shared interest isn’t reason enough to want to know someone?
"Do I know you?"
Better question— do you want to?