Jackson accepts the ash tray, but keeps the cigarette between his lips, puffing away, taking a moment to find the right response.
"The name's Homer Jackson," he explains. "I'm a surgeon, a forensic scientist, a human, and yes, a witch."
Jackson is being pedantic, but you've got to understand. He's sensitive about semantics, at least in the case of the supernatural. There seems to be an either/or trend in this world. You're either a supernatural being-- a witch, a special human, a vampire-- or you're just a human. A mundane.
Okay, maybe he is being too particular, but it's a touchy subject, because Jackson's not just a witch. He's more than that-- something he's been trying to make a point of since running away all those years ago.
no subject
"The name's Homer Jackson," he explains. "I'm a surgeon, a forensic scientist, a human, and yes, a witch."
Jackson is being pedantic, but you've got to understand. He's sensitive about semantics, at least in the case of the supernatural. There seems to be an either/or trend in this world. You're either a supernatural being-- a witch, a special human, a vampire-- or you're just a human. A mundane.
Okay, maybe he is being too particular, but it's a touchy subject, because Jackson's not just a witch. He's more than that-- something he's been trying to make a point of since running away all those years ago.