[ Adra packs the flowers carefully in his bags before anything else. They'll make beautiful ink, he reckons, and the thought of working with them once he's home calms him a bit, gives him something to look forward to.
He joins Gil by the mural, and the door, and he narrows his eyes as he examines the uncomfortably romantic embrace. Adra runs his fingers over the tiles, on down to the door, which is quite clearly impassable. His eartips curl. ]
You've got to be kidding me.
[ Adra's a dungeon veteran. He knows the probable score here.
no subject
He joins Gil by the mural, and the door, and he narrows his eyes as he examines the uncomfortably romantic embrace. Adra runs his fingers over the tiles, on down to the door, which is quite clearly impassable. His eartips curl. ]
You've got to be kidding me.
[ Adra's a dungeon veteran. He knows the probable score here.
He's not happy about it. ]