Tryin' to stay between the lines of who I am and who I used to be
Her 'brows lift like her eyes need the physical motion of something raising to finally alight on the plate he's already got before him. "Oh, you're good," she realizes, quickly raising a saucy hand to shake dismissively towards him. "No no no, I'm plenty full." It'd been the only reason she offered her own ribs after all, which she now releases with a thud back onto the plate, most of it devoured. Leaning up in a slow, languid stretch and a groan, she polishes off a yawn, the drugs in her system working her towards a nap, especially now with ribs in her belly. It had been her plan to stay in her room for this trip, per the doctor's instructions, but it hadn't hit yet when she'd wandered down to the main floor to grab a drink from a shop first. It then hit while she did that, and one distraction led to another, guiding her further from the sanctity of her room where she could blissfully drift into nothing and slumber all alone. Maybe for the best she ran into Zavien though, because the ribs had hit the spot.
She reaches out to grab about thirty napkins, one at a time, and begins to poorly clean her hands. This is enough time now that the original ball of mud has mad it's way back towards them, nothing if not insistent about 'befriending' them (harassment is maybe a better word). "Oh, lookit," she points out with a tilt of her head and an extension of a sauce-smeared finger. "It's back." Only, it's not alone this time. It's collected friends along the way, apparently, because a whole host of wobbling, bouncing, slorping mud rolls into view and starts to climb at the bottoms of everyone's seats and tables and grill bases, threatening to turn the rib joint into a mud wrestling pit instead.
She reaches out to grab about thirty napkins, one at a time, and begins to poorly clean her hands. This is enough time now that the original ball of mud has mad it's way back towards them, nothing if not insistent about 'befriending' them (harassment is maybe a better word). "Oh, lookit," she points out with a tilt of her head and an extension of a sauce-smeared finger. "It's back." Only, it's not alone this time. It's collected friends along the way, apparently, because a whole host of wobbling, bouncing, slorping mud rolls into view and starts to climb at the bottoms of everyone's seats and tables and grill bases, threatening to turn the rib joint into a mud wrestling pit instead.
Colt
I been livin', I been losin', findin' out that I can't run from me
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
