"Why would you wear a hood in a room, in the shadows?"
Drake chewed the inside of his cheek in hesitation. He didn't know how to answer the question. Should he tell his companion the truth? Cody had given him no reason to lie, or even to suspect that he would react the same way as many people did. Then again, he could be a typical human hiding behind a sympathetic and knowing facade. He needed more time to think it over. The answer came quickly with the aid of the voice in his head.
"I'm going to go place our order." He reached behind his head and pulled his hood back over his head. "I'll explain this when I return," he said pointing at the dark cloth that now hid his face and standing from he table.
"I don't think you should," he heard the familiar voice say. He pushed the sound from his mind. He needed to think clearly, added paranoia would not aid the process. He was so deep in thought that he barely noticed the empty chair he nearly tipped over. He stood still at the counter surrounded by stools and waited for the barkeep to come over.
He did not hear the man's words or even look at him, but he knew that he had come to see what was needed. "Yes. I need a pitcher of water and two plates of whatever is still warm." Moving almost of their own volition, his hands dropped the proper amount of Bishani into the man's calloused palm and grabbed the pitcher. Before he even realized what had taken place he was sitting back down in the booth.
"I hope water's alright. I don't like consuming too much of the fare that is served in places such as this," he said as he sat the cool pitcher down. "I can get something else if you prefer," he added hastily.
He searched Cody's face, still trying to determine if he wanted to tell him of his painful memory. With a deep sigh he resigned himself to telling the truth of it for once.
"Well, as I told you, I was often bullied in my younger years. This," he said, removing his hood, "was made a necessity by the most vicious of my rivals' attacks."
With another deep sigh he pulled back his chest length white hair and turned his head so that Cody could see the burn scars that ran up the back of his neck. After he was sure the young man had seen enough he covered it back up. He could tell that a few of the other patrons of The Drunken Rat had seen as well. The looks of disgust were hard to miss.
"My mother had saved up for months to buy me a book of legends for my birthday, and at a festival in our village, the bullies threw it into a bonfire." Drake clinched his fists in remembered rage. He closed his eyes and forced himself to breath steadier. "While I sat and watched my most prized possession burn, they saw fit to push me in after it. The burns run from the back of my hand," he held up his gloved hand to give emphasis, "up my arm, across the back of my shoulder, and then to the places you saw."
Now Drake was staring down at the table in expectation of the disgusted remarks he was sure were coming.
