Welcome to Gaia! ::

As far as Vladimirite was concerned, American spicy was an entirely different kind of spicy and their version of fried chicken was also so... greasy. Not that he didn't mind a fair bit of oil and grease but the amount coating his hotwings was absurd. He might as well have ordered a small bottle of oil to grease the wheels of his bike.
And the heat? It's only purpose was to burn and apparently rip away any semblance of flavor for the sake of making him want to rip his own tongue out to cease the burning sensation.

Americans had no idea what good spicy fried chicken tasted like and he dearly wished for a nation that prided itself on fried food to have some understanding that not everyone wanted their dining experience to end in pain.

Chugging down the near flat soda, Vladimirite tsked at the styrofoam container. He had four wings of seven left, and only a bit of ranch dressing left to curb the heat from the house sauce. "Really." He scoffed into the night air.
"Can't these yanks make anything decent?"

There were times when Vladimirite was one to think himself a proper lad, but when you had a box full of half eaten hotwings in one hand, and a flat soda in the other, being a proper, upstanding sort of bloke was right out. He was already feeling the burn of disappointment, no reason for him to make matters worse by the way of starting a fight with a guy who glowed of all things.

"Trying to catch a proper bite before get called to do some dirty work. Not that you can get anything decent round here." He shrugged, opening the box and offering up the remaining wings.
"Want one? Rather someone enjoy them rather than tossing them in the bin." The man didn't look to be up for a fight either, and technically Vlad had been told he'd met his quotas and all the was left was just to 'get anything more as required'.

"Why are you glowing though, if you don't mind me asking? Hardly seems... normal."

He was-
Ohhh. Vlad immediately let himself relax a bit. Maybe it was the shared notion they both came from across the ocean, but he'd relly be put out to have to try and fight a guy who A) was also from his homeland and B) much more powerful than him. Even he could tell that.
"You from the UK? Sound like it, though, I know a fair deal of wankers like pretending just to get a rise. As for the wings- well." He closed the box, and ceremoniously threw them in the trash. At least they hadn't cost that much.

"Almost feel bad for the poor birds. Waste of good wings that is." They didn't deserve to die and be made into overly spiced soggy crusted street food.

"And no- Can't say I have. I'm usually told to keep my nose down and mine my own business. Suits me just fine but hardly answers any questions about what it is exactly we're supposed to do other than be good little soldiers. Do all transcended folks have markings like that? Seems a bit of a give away if you try sneaking round. Glowing in the dark ardly helps when you're tracking someone."

"Everyone fakes something here. It's like a competition of who can lie the best. Personally I think the generals do it best. Act all post but most of them are idiots." Which was true enough. He may be a lowly lieutenant, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that half the generals hadn't the foggiest on what they were to do.

"Anyway I'm from sss---OH you though you were gonna get me there!" Vladimirite scoffed, though, with a bit of grin. "I'm not going to snitch myself. Let's just say that I wouldn't jump you on the tube or in an alley. But yeah, it's nice to meet someone also from back home. Things just aren't the same. I mean, have you had their chocolate?" He grimaced, "Rank is what that is. Even the cheap stuff back home tasted better."

Summoning his weapon he set it to his side. "Ah, yeah I mean, I get a scabbard to hit people with, get told to steal from little old ladies, get yelled at when i don't steal enough, have to stay up late and outside in this heat- Ah, sure, I love this new career in being someone's lapdog." He snarked before sighing.

"You could you know, rip them off. I mean, not the most idea, but you could do it. Dunno about the markings. Concealer maybe."

Valdamirite sighed into the warm night air. He rather liked being left alone, and didn't like doing this... venting that he was apart of now. He'd started. Dramatically he leaned back, as if hurt.

"Ah yeah, just gonne sod off while they're not looking and have nothing to worry about. Yeah, that'd go over real well." He flicked a hand in the air.
"The way I see it, I have two options. One is ai do what they tell me and keep my starsoul crystal thing right where it belongs, in me, or I run back home and get clapped like it's the IRA coming down on my gran's door." The scowl on Vlad was bare, and it was also not directed too much at the knight.

"Unless you have a way to memory wipe all of them so I can get on with my life? Nah, I'm stuck. Don't like it, but, that is what it is." A tug on his collar, he looked away furtively.
"It's not right to go around killing folks. Even if it is to save the planet. None of it is personal but-" The sound Vlad made was clearly one of disgust. "It's too much, too close to home to be right."

It was a small thing, Vlad thought. If you lived anywhere near the city, you got used to dealing with dramatics and being dramatic. It was just a thing more often than not.
“Yes, well. I tend to be not one to mince my words. No point in skirting round the subject.” He waved it off, not caring much if his colorful vocabulary got him in trouble or drew ire. Though, he figured he could leash his tongue for Celsus’s sake. The man had been downright cordial so far.

“Oh no, I’m fairly certain all of us are bad. I mean, say what you mean Celsus. We take energy, harvesting it for purposes we can’t see evidence of and stories that come from our own sources and nothing else. It’s not right. I don’t like it, but I do it because the alternative choice has a much less favorable result. Name one good thing the negaverse does- oh wait just remembered, it’s nothing.” A small click of his tongue, and Vlad began to tap the scabbard on the ground.

The idea of being able to leave it was intriguing. Promising, but could it really be possible, could it happen?
“I can’t say I’ve heard of it in detail. Only that it’s a thing and if we’re offered it, to deny and kill. But, that’s also what I’m told to do with senshi and knights in general and-“ He motioned to the both of them,
“As you can see, I not the most adept at following commands.”