"I'm fishing," he said in a tone to match her own. Of course, the devilish grin on his face completely undermined his snappy tone. If anything, it seemed to give him more of a personality. Perhaps the troublesome, ruffian could be a charming, funny guy -- if given a chance.

Nah, why would Mae ever think that?

When she vanished for a bit, Saith took this as his cue to be silent and just continued his 'fishing.' However, when her reflection reappeared, he almost shot her a smile. Almost.

If he wanted to win her over, he could have. But there was no need. He had no interest in this woman. She wasn't his type so why waste energy on something (er, someone) he didn't want.

"You're a... second year?" He was taking a stab at it. He honestly had no idea of her status. Maybe third year? Either way, it wasn't ideal to shout across the pond (he didn't want to scare the fishies!). Standing, he went to make his move over to her when he realized he severely underestimated something. The location of his foot. More importantly, the location of his feet in relation to that stick he was using.

Before he could do anything, he was spitting water from his mouth and dealing with a flopping fish atop his matted mess of white hair. A dumbfounded look plastered all over his face, he slowly swiveled his head toward the woman. "Please tell me I won't die now." His face was sheer panic. Granted, the fish atop his head hardly made him worth taking seriously.

---------- Post added 05-01-2015 at 06:09 PM ----------

First a snort and then a tap on the shoulder? Cain raised a brow but decided to dismiss it. That was until she asked to go in front of him. "A lady... huh, could have fooled me." He looked at his place in line, literally in front of the counter, to where she stood. She couldn't wait one second? Heh, he would teach her.

Holding up a finger, as if to cut her off, he turned to the counter. "Spaghetti please, mate." A heaping of the sauce-covered noodles flopped on the plate before him. "Thanks," he said while turning around.

If she tried to use any magic on him, he would simply brush it off. If she tried to speak, he would tune her out. At least, until now. "You were saying?" he looked Marwo straight in the eyes before, oh so smoothly, dumping the plate on her.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Does my short stature, hair of choice, and preference in partners bother you?"

Without a smirk, without a snort, without anything, he turned back to the server. "I'm going to need more spaghetti, mate. This thing stole my plate and insisted on covering herself with it. You know, to match her tattoo."