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Zeke was researching. He had a book laid open over one knee, and a note pad balanced on the other, the end of his pen bouncing absently against the paper. He was still working through collecting information on the various types of species they might be likely to encounter in their line of work, though he'd moved on from Halloween beings to Horsemen. There four columns on the notepad, a short list of specs scrawled down beneath each one.

Engrossed in his work, Zac's enthusiastic greeting was startling. He blinked, head jerking up, to turn a less than friendly look on the offender before recognition thawed chilly features into something more mildly annoyed. "Zac." By the time the Sun had wandered up to him the annoyance was gone, replaced by a benign, friendly smile. Half sincere.

"And how is your training going?" A brow twitched, regarding the shorter man, the supplies under his arm, then up again. Curious, needling, baiting. Zeke recalled the flush on Zac's cheeks, the attempt to avoid eye contact. If nothing else, he'd be fun to poke at.

Zeke pushed slim glasses up onto head, shifting just slightly in his seat so he could look up at Zac without craning his neck. The brief flick of eyes away made him smile wider, and he tucked his pen behind his ear, hands folding over his notes.

"Practice, practice," he'd muse, clueless as to who Zac was talking about. "Should find someone to wail on, for the sake of learning to control your charge better."

The question had hazel eyes twitching down, briefly. "I'm trying to familiarize myself, as well as possible, with the various creatures we're likely to run into as hunters."

An auburn brow twitched, features lightening in amusement, eyes shiny with it. "Oh yeah? That was very nice of him." His voice, at least, remained friendly neutral, despite having to fend off rising laughter.

At the question his head tilted, and he'd roll shoulders in a small shrug. "Sure, whenever." He was always up for a spar. Well, almost always. Lagertha gave an impatient huff, bemoaning his thirst for knowledge. She would have so preferred a partner with a thirst for battle. "Talking does help, though verbal recounts don't come with visuals." He liked to cross reference. See if he can't connect a story with a beast.

And he attention would dip again, down to his notes, momentarily distracted before Zac's compliment on his tattoo drew him back up. "Thank you. The artists did an exceptional job." Pale eyes twitched down, taking in the ink on Zac's arms, then jumped back up. "Do you have more?"

What a boring answer.

"When I think of something," he agreed, grinning, though it slipped just a touch as Zac moved to take his leave. Not really a problem, but he'd managed to get Zeke's attention, and the Mist wasn't ready for him to just walk away yet.

Before Zac could get more than a step away the other man was sitting up, book and notes stacked together and balanced on the arm of his chair. "How many's a few?" His tone was mild, curious, and the smile he turned up to the Sun was feigned innocence.

"And where?"

Resting his elbow on the arm of the chair not currently holding his things, Zeke leaned to that side, chin propped in is upturned palm. One foot resting on the opposite knee. He looked utterly at ease, and it was with exaggerated interest he racked pale eyes over Zac's arm, then downward, slowly, before rising again. It was a very obvious look over, and meant to be.

"I'm not familiar with them." He was, a little, but this was just starting to prove entertaining. Pushing buttons was his favorite past time. Tone had been curious, questioning. A clear invitation for an explanation.

Small fingers hooked against a belt loop, fidgeting, and Zeke's smile widened a touch.

It actually was pretty fascinating, the variety of designs, passed down through families. It was the sort of thing Zeke would go out of his way to read more about.

And he'd let that interest show on his face, hazel eyes dipping, once again, in a slow rack. Hips to knees. As if he could see the intricate patterns of ink hidden just below his jeans. "You don't say."

"Placement is very important." A slow smirk took over as he eyed the flush on Zac's cheeks. That was satisfying, but how far could he take this? "Maybe some time you can show me."

The topic shifted, and his free hand came up to touch the curl of yellow and blue at the side of his neck. "I was going into marine biology. Specifically the study of cephalopods." The most obvious answer, but there was a deeper meaning. One that revolved an acute sense of self.