Koa's in his element, bright with whiskey and his passion for the Dragoons... when it all comes crashing down. One moment he's ready to anoint Tal as a newly minted Dragoon, like it or not; the next he's letting his cup clunk back onto the table, a flash of anger in those copper eyes. Not for Talyson, of course, but for a situation Koa still hasn't fully figured out how to reconcile in his mind.
"The Dragoons serve Stormbreak," he clarifies tersely, the words strained as they work past his tight throat. "And the people of Stormbreak. And when the leader also serves those people, then yes, we listen to them. But when they don't..." He trails off with a pointed shrug, glaring at his cup.
And then he deflates, shoulders slumping, a sail bereft of righteous wind. "At least I hope so," Koa murmurs, more to himself than the Courier across from him, his thumb rubbing uneasily against the porcelain mug as he frowns into fading steam.
"The Dragoons serve Stormbreak," he clarifies tersely, the words strained as they work past his tight throat. "And the people of Stormbreak. And when the leader also serves those people, then yes, we listen to them. But when they don't..." He trails off with a pointed shrug, glaring at his cup.
And then he deflates, shoulders slumping, a sail bereft of righteous wind. "At least I hope so," Koa murmurs, more to himself than the Courier across from him, his thumb rubbing uneasily against the porcelain mug as he frowns into fading steam.
