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It was often when Mary was occupied that Amahté found that he could easily slip beneath her radar and sneak out; he had done it a fair few times before, and had only been caught once in the act. It was always amusing when he returned to her flustered and babbling, as though she couldn't settle on being angry or near tears. Though he cared nothing for her she seemed to harbor affection for him!

As it should be. He was a god after all.

As he picked his way down the warm street, blanket dragging around his ankles and behind him, he seemed unawares of Ana and her work of art on the asphalt (he had been, of course, wondering at the magnificence of his sneakiness and therefore very busy). In fact, he seemed not to even notice as he passed right over it, smudging the abstract beetle portrait with careless feet.

It was only when his eyes caught up to his mind that he realized that he had passed by something exceptionally green...and the fact that it had spoken.

To him?

“Who doesn't like you?" Obviously his mouth was ahead of him; it wasn't every day he spoke to a commoner! He absently dropped his gaze to his feet, which, curiously, had now become a funny shade of purple...

Amahté's thin brows rose slowly at Ana's claim. A walrus? What was she going on about?

Perhaps he had come across a, what did Mary call them again? Psychopath? Though he wasn't all too sure whether or not the acid green child qualified just yet. He couldn't help but be taken aback by her friendliness; so far he had been met only by skepticism and discourtesy.

"Don't they all scream?" he asked with a casual wave of his hand as if to dispel her thoughts. "I enjoyed it much more than the humdrum routine my caretaker put me through."

He overlooked her roller coaster emotions and focused on the horizon over her head. And that's when it struck him, a late epiphany despite his trip to the shop beforehand - those children he had met, that orange girl, and this one with her curls and excruciatingly green hair.... He sniffed and caught kiwi.

They were all from the same place. This put Amahté in a sticky spot, and he twisted his lips and made a face.

"A pleasure, fair subject!" he responded grandly, waving away his earlier thoughts. "I'm Amahté, king of all that is and all that will be!"

He posed it a fashion he thought was very intimidating and nodded.

Now it wasn't that such a reaction wasn't expected by his very presence, but really - it was pleasing enough for its own surprise! He hastily composed himself as she dipped into a curtsy; he had seen it once before in Vanyel, and it pleased him greatly. Girls were such wonderfully obedient creatures! He canted his head and watched her with a sort of sated amusement, looking all the time like a pleased cat.

"As you should be," he nodded. If he had a false beard like in those books he'd found, he'd be stroking it with such content! He could have kissed her, really, for responding in such a manner.

"No need to be flustered, good lady! I come out often enough to walk amongst my subjects. Why, I'm practically one of you!" He mentally scoffed at this: he was in no way, shape, or form the same as any of those others he had encountered! Although, now that it was edging into his mind...

He chewed his inner cheek hard.

"Cake?" His smugness fell away, torn down as easily as a sheaf of tissue paper. An owlish blink and a tilted head later and he was nearly on the little girl, questioning this thing he had never heard of with a fervor more childlike than it was royal. Imagine!

"What's that?"

A child that didn't know what cake was!

A line appeared between his brows as Ana's mood sagged yet again. The corners of his lips pinched in a mixture between forced sympathy and annoyance; his smile - if that was what he was trying at - needed a little work.

"I don't see why you care so much what she thinks," he said, voice flat lining. "She should be honored to care for someone so rightfully subservient to a god! And even more so if she sees you in my presence." He nodded, self-satisfied. He reached out and patted her awkwardly on the head.

"So..." He leaned forward, afraid someone else would find out about his ignorance on the subject, "About this 'cake'?"

"Pie?"

At least he knew what milk was, and where it came from. However, he did have a difficult time believing that the sole purpose for the drink was for this 'cake' - could anything really be so important?

Oh, the irony.

He curled his nose as she went on about this Oscar fellow, a skeptical look gracing his features. No one would dare be so selfish when he was around, would they? No! He'd simply demand his share, receive it, and be done with it. That was how it was at home...and everywhere (so he liked to believe)! He would have his pie (and cake) and eat it too!

Amahté followed after Ana with a definite flourish, turning his nose up at the state of the staircase. Oh well! He may live in luxury, but that didn't always guarantee that his subjects did as well. Although, they should try and emulate their god. He gave her a vague nod of thanks and swept right past her and into her home.

The photo developer smell really rankled his nose, and he would have said something had it not been the ominous noise that came from somewhere within the chair. Amahté paused mid step and allowed Ana to pass him, fascinated by the battle worn cat that had defended itself with a growl. At first he felt a bit offended that even this feline would react in such a manner, but he was more taken aback to find out that this was Oscar.

"This...this has say over the 'pie'?" he questioned loudly, just as unimpressed with the cat as he was with him. He sidled near it and peered into its one eye, deeply confused.

"Why is he so...'nyeuh'?" Amahté flicked his hand over the furry little beast encompassing its poor state. Weren't cats supposed to be majestic and regal?

It WAS awful. The little boy felt a sudden surge of anger for whomever had done this deed to the creature. The prompt respect he felt was surprising, not much could be done to garner it, but this cat still held an air of majesty despite its state. He grinned as the cat seemed to decide he had far better things to attend to than the Scent before him; so smarmy!

He would have pet him, but he had a feeling Oscar wouldn't take too fondly to coddling. But what did Amahté know about cats (if only he knew they were much like royalty, rude and domineering, but craving adoration)?

"A dog?" he echoed with a sound of pride and awe. It wasn't his cat, but still. That was cool. He offered him a toothy grin and followed Ana's voice into the kitchen. He peered over her shoulder all nosy-like, "Can the cat - ah, Oscar have milk as well?"