In my stomach is butterflies

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame He tilted his head again, arching a brow, and wondering if that was a joke (were there other ones around with his name?), but snorted just the same. The following question surprised him, but now he pondered if he should be wary of any of Elizabeth’s inquiries, and if she was trying to find angles and measures through them. Still, Erebos was an easy topic, and he allowed a grin instead of the strained smile. “Very well.” Even when the world was daunting and overwhelming, returning to home and having those foundational efforts to keep him grounded were enough – and while the infant probably should’ve been the most challenging out of those circumstances, Deimos found him a much more easygoing notion than life-threatening meetings. “He keeps us busy.” Much like everything else. He'd have him strapped to his chest now, had he not had to patrol and unfurl several skirmishes later. His gaze went back to the sign and the building; one he passed often as they made their way up and down the streets, but recognition of her family or the placeholders here weren’t as prevalent. Taking another drink, he paused again, considering. “Have you been in Halo long?” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace