Damien
oh, let's take a chance and roll the bones
try to forget all them enemies and debts
try to forget all them enemies and debts
“Right,” he says, a brow arcing, “Lumber type, delivery date… and monarchial titles. Makes the paperwork more exciting, I guess.” He lets that sink in a beat, glancing down at the sand before meeting her eyes again.
Her mock scrutiny earns a small, measured chuckle from him. He shakes his head slowly, one hand brushing a few grains of sand from his knee. “No criticism intended,” he says, tone even but dry. “Though if you do throw me in jail, I’ll want to know if there’s any paperwork involved there, too.” The faint lift at one corner of his mouth betrays the humor, but there’s the steady calm of a man who isn’t genuinely worried about being ‘accused’ by a queen.
When she springs to her feet, Damien rises as well, dusting the sand off his pants with [at this point] practiced efficiency. He adjusts the sunglasses back over his eyes and gives a small, resigned shake of his head. “I’d hardly say no,” he replies, voice low but amused, “even if it was a personal slight. Lead the way, Your—” he pauses, smirking faintly, “—highness.” He doesn’t overdo the title, letting the humor ride just on the edge of teasing without feeling forced.
As they start walking toward wherever she’s leading him, his head tilts toward the little dragon spiraling overhead. He doesn’t comment on the cool breeze, but his posture relaxes slightly, shoulders losing a touch of the workday tension, letting himself enjoy the moment even if only subtly. His smirk fades into a small, admiring smile. "That's your companion? She's beautiful. What's her name?"
Her mock scrutiny earns a small, measured chuckle from him. He shakes his head slowly, one hand brushing a few grains of sand from his knee. “No criticism intended,” he says, tone even but dry. “Though if you do throw me in jail, I’ll want to know if there’s any paperwork involved there, too.” The faint lift at one corner of his mouth betrays the humor, but there’s the steady calm of a man who isn’t genuinely worried about being ‘accused’ by a queen.
When she springs to her feet, Damien rises as well, dusting the sand off his pants with [at this point] practiced efficiency. He adjusts the sunglasses back over his eyes and gives a small, resigned shake of his head. “I’d hardly say no,” he replies, voice low but amused, “even if it was a personal slight. Lead the way, Your—” he pauses, smirking faintly, “—highness.” He doesn’t overdo the title, letting the humor ride just on the edge of teasing without feeling forced.
As they start walking toward wherever she’s leading him, his head tilts toward the little dragon spiraling overhead. He doesn’t comment on the cool breeze, but his posture relaxes slightly, shoulders losing a touch of the workday tension, letting himself enjoy the moment even if only subtly. His smirk fades into a small, admiring smile. "That's your companion? She's beautiful. What's her name?"
