I take everything seriously,
The comparison of his emotions makes Zavien want to object, especially as it minimizes the suffering of another human being. His mouth opens, shocked and offended and completely serious as he says, "I would never be too late for ice cream. I have a guy for that." Maurice knew he came by for his weekly fix of lemon sherbert and saved him a bowl every time. The idea of him being this upset even if he had run out is outlandish. But as he vents, he wishes it were as simple as making more ice cream.
At least Flora doesn't take off at his outburst. Instead, she grabs him arm and starts guiding him away from the source of his troubles. The familiarity surprises him, yet he doesn't stop her, eager for something to get his mind off his frustrations. Zavien is pleased to see the pop-up boxing ring, agreeing that maybe some physical exersion might help work out his negative energy. "Good idea." Without prompting, he pays the man for a set of gloves and steps inside the ring, strapping them tightly into place.
Then the specifics of her suggestion process in his brain. "Wait. You want me to fight you." The words are out before he can think about how they might be construed. He doesn't mean for it to sound offensive, and he definitely isn't doubting her skills. Gods knew there were plenty of women who'd left him bruised, but most of those had been with weapons. How was he supposed to put his hands on her?
Zavien stands in the middle of the ring, his face scrunched with obvious conflict as he debates whether Flora is being serious. He fidgets with the gloves, his head tilted just enough for him to look endearing and unthreatening. Only the vendor seems to recognize the terrible error the Dragoon just made.
At least Flora doesn't take off at his outburst. Instead, she grabs him arm and starts guiding him away from the source of his troubles. The familiarity surprises him, yet he doesn't stop her, eager for something to get his mind off his frustrations. Zavien is pleased to see the pop-up boxing ring, agreeing that maybe some physical exersion might help work out his negative energy. "Good idea." Without prompting, he pays the man for a set of gloves and steps inside the ring, strapping them tightly into place.
Then the specifics of her suggestion process in his brain. "Wait. You want me to fight you." The words are out before he can think about how they might be construed. He doesn't mean for it to sound offensive, and he definitely isn't doubting her skills. Gods knew there were plenty of women who'd left him bruised, but most of those had been with weapons. How was he supposed to put his hands on her?
Zavien stands in the middle of the ring, his face scrunched with obvious conflict as he debates whether Flora is being serious. He fidgets with the gloves, his head tilted just enough for him to look endearing and unthreatening. Only the vendor seems to recognize the terrible error the Dragoon just made.
Zavien
but I also take it lighthearted to recognize I can't control it.
