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Finian was supposed to be at home, listening to one of his tutors talk about the philosophy of some old dead guy from some old dead nation who was really smart.

Aside from the obvious fact that his tutor could make a ham-sandwich fall asleep with that droning, monotone voice, there was a carnival not an hour's ride from the confining cramped study that he was supposed to be attending. And, it would annoy someone, somewhere, that he was skipping out on anything vaguely representing responsibility... again. But who studied on a Monday anyway?

The carnival was full of mostly kid's rides, cheap wooden toys for shoving balls down clown's throats and overpriced questionably dated deep-fried 'food' on sticks. The novelty had lasted a few minutes while Finian inhaled a dagwood dog and explored with the small-ish arena of the carnival. Aside from the electric roller-coaster and the violently writhing 'swinging chairs' the only place of interest was the dodge-em-carts. A brightly painted sign that had faded around the edges from years of dust and wear but the place still had the very soulful taste of competition and crying children. Fin bought his ticket and waited as the previous set of carts slowly meandered around, the ponies looking soulfully bored, mostly parents and little kids making high-pitched squeals when they were hit. His group seemed a bit older, thankfully, so he might get a chance to bust a wheel or up-end a pony and side-ream a few unfortunate souls. The very idea of the jostling wooden edges ramming at full speed into his compatriots rose like bloodlust until he could almost taste it. There could be only one dodge'em champion!

For a Monday, especially because it was a Monday, the place was not busy. Mostly house-wives and kids skipping school, a couple of college students between lectures and middle-aged men with girls young enough to be their daughter, still, it beat philosophy and introspective self-study any day.

Finian was eyeing off a particularly fine looking, firey tempered beast that he had decided must share his lust for destruction and mayhem in the pen as it nipped at one of the other animal's ears when they got too close. He liked an animal with spirit, animals were so much easier to count on for that reason, they nipped you when you got annoying, they played their emotions out in the open, no backroom dealings no double-faced smiles or hoity-toity fanfare for purely superficial reasons. Animals were good. Trustworthy. He liked their dependable nature; right now, he liked their occasionally violent nature. This angry stubby grey pony was grunting in agitation, practically growling (although horses don't growl, of course) and biting any foolhardy a** that got too close. Wouldn't the world be a different place if he could just bite anyone he didn't like? Well, different... no, but possibly padded. Who went around taking chunks out of people anyway? So uncivilised.

Finian fancied he and this pony would prove to be the natural victors of their round, because Fin would expect no less from the equine creature, and Fin always got what he wanted. Or found a way to at the very least. Who knew, if it proved its mettle in glorious combat, he might get nanny to buy it for him. Although that would probably raise the issue of him behaving childishly from time to--- AHH! The sudden whisper in his ear made the prince jump, almost a good foot in the air.

He turned to the girl who had given his heart a jump-start, gaze sweeping over her in a confused manner. She was definitely talking to him, there was a sort of predatory look about her... like... a man-eater. Finian swallowed his heart, lungs and other organs that had attempted to crawl up his throat and gave the girl a faint smile. It was a smile that he had long ago perfected, the smile that said 'I am amused' or 'I am sure you think so' or 'you'll never know what I did with the bodies' his smile of interpretations. She could obviously sense that he was a majin, which meant that she was not likely to be human herself. Still, best not to assume.

"I imagine I would." He murmured. After all, he wasn't going to let some girl try and intimidate him into not smashing her cart to itty bits with her vague sexual innuendos. He was not afraid of girls. He was not afraid of anything! He laughed in the face of her ample cleavage!

"But I think you're going to have to try harder to make me quiver in my boots, girlie. I'm going to rock this game like it's the stone age."

This sounded like this girl was... well, witch-eaters didn't run around admitting they were witch-eaters, did they? of course not, but she was a majin... and trying to intimidate him, well, he was not going to listen to her warning! Pigheaded determination rose in his gullet. Well if she could smell him that was fine, he wasn't some lost lambling who she would just boss around with her cleavage.
Oh, he had tasted a little of that forbidden fruit as a child, after-all hadn't all majin had that tiny taste? Like nectar to his lips, but he was a prince; he wouldn't be losing control just because she was talking about the steak on the plate. He had withstood much more tempting offers.

"If you're trying to talk dirty to me, you'll have to try a lot harder." He snapped back, hoping that she wasn't going to because normally he could block that sort of thing out, his power was more toward the physical than the sensing but sometimes attention was all it took to be hyper aware of the pulse and heartbeat. Psychological warfare, what a cunning opponent, he would crush her!

"If you think that I'm going to be intimidated by that, you're going to find yourself crushed in this game." His gaze shifted vaguely to the signs around them, plenty of ink on tickets and the sign boards.

"Big boasts for a little girl. Don't cry when I smash your carriage to bits!"

Finian went straight to the fiesty beast that he had been eyeing off before, Easily gliding into the stearing position, his verdant eyes locking with the odd girl who may or may not have been... well... either trying to seduce him or a witch-eater. Hmm, it was a little worrying between those options. How did he find himself in these dilemmas? Oh, right, he had no sense of propriety!

With a ding on a bell, the horses began to skitter and march around the little paddock, Fin felt his little carriage jerk and sway as the pony took charge and began charging. It was all he could do to hold on and aim the enraged beast.