Callum
What's the worst that could happen
"Ah," he says, as though some new understanding has dawned on him. He bends to pluck a bolt from the still-twitching serpent's neck (?). "You need to hang around more creative folk. Flowers are so... uninspired." Besides, flowers are soft. Deadly, sometimes, sure, if you happen to pick the right ones. But they don't have any of the fire that Flora has thus far displayed, and that seems like a missed opportunity if ever there was one.
Maybe sunshine will stick, after all.
Cal moves to continue gathering the crossbow bolts, tucking them easily back into his quiver as he retrieves them. "Handy," he says of her daggers, eyeing them appreciatively. He really should appeal for something like that - maybe some arrows that return when called, or an enchanted quiver that never empties.
As for his altruism, his grin sharpens. "No wonder you were so vague on the details of the job," he says. "I'd have charged double to play snake bait. For the expert dramatics, of course."
Maybe sunshine will stick, after all.
Cal moves to continue gathering the crossbow bolts, tucking them easily back into his quiver as he retrieves them. "Handy," he says of her daggers, eyeing them appreciatively. He really should appeal for something like that - maybe some arrows that return when called, or an enchanted quiver that never empties.
As for his altruism, his grin sharpens. "No wonder you were so vague on the details of the job," he says. "I'd have charged double to play snake bait. For the expert dramatics, of course."
When two worlds collide
