You will never do anything in this world without courage.
Smiling quietly at the drug-addled progression of perception and realization, Zavien finishes off another bite of his ribs and sets them aside to grab a pile of napkins. Nonchalantly, wiping the sauce from his fingers, he offers Colt a pleased nod of his head. "Good."
He follows the line of where her dirtied finger points just as he's moving her plate and excess napkins aside. The mud is bouncing and swimming(?) and crawling its way towards them in a liquified motion that would be hard to describe from someone who doesn't have drugs in their system. Sol is close on the blobs' tails, smoke already wisping from his nostrils, gaggle of children in tow. From what he can tall, the memory mud had gotten the jump on its guards, using Zavien and Colt's path to follow them to the rib stall.
Now, as they slurp and crawl against the legs and bases and boots, there's not much he can do other than help Joe when he uses tongs to drop coals along the base of his smoker. Peeling his boot from the hold of a particularly stubborn glob, Zavien unsheathes his sword to flatten it along the worst parts of the mud, baking it to a dusty crisp that won't upend the precious meat. Sol joins in on the attack, licking flames wherever he spots a muddy monster and inadvertently singing the table legs.
Only once the miniature battle has mostly resolved does the Dragoon stand again, smiling sheepishly at the chef. "Sorry, Joe. We'll keep working on this." There's the unspoken addition of 'once I help with this situation' when his eyes flit to Colt again, but the large man doesn't need to hear it, huffing an amused grunt as he cleans up the space of caked mud and crumpled napkins. "That's okay. You can't be everywhere all at once - no matter how much you want to be. Don't worry about us. We're pretty resilient." He sends Zavien a wink and shifts away with a bundle of garbage in his hands.
Guilt pricks at his thoughts for leaving Joe with so much work, but the reassurance is enough to set him moving again, his eyes falling on Colt again. "Do you have a place to stay? Anywhere I can walk you?" Based on the drooping of her eyelids, he'd suspect she's about ready to collapse, and he'd rather not have to deal with the decisions of where to take an unconscious woman.
*
He follows the line of where her dirtied finger points just as he's moving her plate and excess napkins aside. The mud is bouncing and swimming(?) and crawling its way towards them in a liquified motion that would be hard to describe from someone who doesn't have drugs in their system. Sol is close on the blobs' tails, smoke already wisping from his nostrils, gaggle of children in tow. From what he can tall, the memory mud had gotten the jump on its guards, using Zavien and Colt's path to follow them to the rib stall.
Now, as they slurp and crawl against the legs and bases and boots, there's not much he can do other than help Joe when he uses tongs to drop coals along the base of his smoker. Peeling his boot from the hold of a particularly stubborn glob, Zavien unsheathes his sword to flatten it along the worst parts of the mud, baking it to a dusty crisp that won't upend the precious meat. Sol joins in on the attack, licking flames wherever he spots a muddy monster and inadvertently singing the table legs.
Only once the miniature battle has mostly resolved does the Dragoon stand again, smiling sheepishly at the chef. "Sorry, Joe. We'll keep working on this." There's the unspoken addition of 'once I help with this situation' when his eyes flit to Colt again, but the large man doesn't need to hear it, huffing an amused grunt as he cleans up the space of caked mud and crumpled napkins. "That's okay. You can't be everywhere all at once - no matter how much you want to be. Don't worry about us. We're pretty resilient." He sends Zavien a wink and shifts away with a bundle of garbage in his hands.
Guilt pricks at his thoughts for leaving Joe with so much work, but the reassurance is enough to set him moving again, his eyes falling on Colt again. "Do you have a place to stay? Anywhere I can walk you?" Based on the drooping of her eyelids, he'd suspect she's about ready to collapse, and he'd rather not have to deal with the decisions of where to take an unconscious woman.
*
Zavien
It is the greatest quality of mind next to honor.
