Photobombing is an Artform [Yaksha/Tahavin]

Yaksha watched Jackson with expressions that were entirely wrong, and entirely too slow at that.  Had he perhaps underestimated his body's capacity for alcohol, just as Yaksha did?  That notion struck Yaksha as especially funny, and left him smirking for a split second before he realized that it wasn't exactly normal to laugh at one's misfortune.  Not unless they deserved it, apparently; Yaksha had watched dozens of humans gathered around, eyes glued and faces an odd combination of misery, triumph, and sadistic glee as those deemed unfit to live were...tossed away.  This thought made Yaksha's entire face darken, turning into something ugly as he grabbed another glass, rolling this one over his forehead.  The cool, ever-so-faintly wet surface of the glass seemed to soothe the rising headache.  For now.

Did Jackson honestly have no idea who he was talking to?  Yaksha had been using silence as a weapon for centuries!  He met the young human's eyes, waiting for them to either lighten with an epiphany, or dodge away in an inevitable sign of submission.  For the boy -was- submissive, even if he didn't know it.  There was exactly one alpha in this building, and there was no mistaking who it could possibly be.  He'd start by yanking the woman across the counter, that contemptable woman that stared between them both with a combination of boredom and loathing, as if she were trying to figure out if this was a roach or a piece of shit that she had just stepped in.  He'd pull her over the counter, yes.  He'd sink his fangs into her throat, feel the salty blood pumping onto his-

No.  No, those were the thoughts of a predator.  And she wasn't even -prey- for christ's sake!  She was one of his own!  The only creatures he ate were the slavering beasts that thought...like that.  The beasts that thought like him, the beasts that walked and talked like him and reminded him every day, just by being that what he wanted was forever off-limits to him!  He didn't even realize it until it was too late that he was hyperventilating, and his eyes had slowly, ever so slightly, started to turn yellow.  If he'd let this go on just 30 more seconds, he likely would've killed everyone here.  But he closed his eyes, beginning to hum a tune to himself for a minute or two.  Somewhere deep in his head, wires crossed, neurons fired, and a thought finally punched through into his head.

Jackson knew nothing about hollows.

His eyes opened again, that triumphant, almost knowing smirk returning to his face as he bowed his head, fishing through his head for the appropriate response?  What had changed, recently?  He'd only barely been paying that much attention, but now...

"Try fifty years, Jackson.  Just fifty years ago, a single generation!  Kids ran around free and happy.  They skinned their knees.  They got in fights.  They got lost in the woods.  They played.  Now, heaven forbid, if one of those little selfie-dispensing bitches went outside for twenty minutes with a stick and a ball, they'd probably think they were being punished.  And all the neighbors would be pulling out their hair, spreading rumors about what awful, terrible parents would let their children be outside.  And my god!  Fifty years ago, if you didn't know something you asked a person first-hand!  Or you read a book!  When you were stumped, you went to an expert!  Do you know, Jackson...I actually had someone tell me that I was irrelevant now?  That fifteeen hundred years of history and anthropology and psychology and mythology is...useless?  Because of, get this...Google!  Fucking Google!  Like it could translate the Minoan language if someone was just willing to ask nicely enough!  Like Google can tell you anything about the Voynich Manuscript besides '404 error'!"

Yaksha flung his own glass, watching it shatter against the wall with a satisfying thunk, and then looking down at his own hand.  He waggled the fingers, and then sighed.

"See.  That's why, as much as I hate people...I hate their fucking echoes even more.  Humans at least have the decency to be entertainingly awful."