i could be the reason you can't sleep at night
Flora’s grin flashes quick and bright at that, her brows lifting as though Colt has just confirmed something entirely reasonable instead of brushing up against the edge of impossible. "See? Easy," she says lightly, the words tossed out with a breezy confidence that makes taming a pegasus and building a fireproof ranch sound like items on a casual afternoon list rather than feats that would make most people stop dead in their tracks.
The humour settles, though, as Colt continues, and Flora lets it, her shoulders rising in a small, unbothered shrug at the thought of pain and limping and learning how to carry it. There’s something in her expression that suggests she doesn’t entirely agree, not quite, but she doesn’t push it either, not here, not now, not when the edges of Colt’s loss are still sharp enough to cut. At the quiet praise, though, Flora huffs out a soft laugh, the sound slipping free before she can quite catch it, her head shaking just slightly as if she can’t decide whether to take that as a compliment or call it out for what it is. "Please," she says, though there’s no bite to it, only a wry sort of amusement curling through her tone. "The trick is I run every day."
Her mouth tilts at one corner, something knowingly self-aware in the expression, like she’s letting the joke land where it wants without spelling it out any further, her fingers idly brushing along Spice’s side as the little dragon shifts against her neck.
Falling silent to listen, her head tipping slightly until it rests against the curve of her shoulder where Spice is draped, Flora's aqua eyes narrowing just a fraction in thought as Colt lays it out piece by piece. Hak Etme. Suvahasi. Water, feed, something that doesn’t go up in flames the moment the world decides it’s had enough. When Colt finishes, Flora lets out a soft, incredulous laugh, her brows lifting again. "Damn," she says, the word warm with something that leans a little closer to impressed than teasing. "You’re really not half-assing this, huh."
She shifts her weight, one hip angling against the table again as she considers it, gaze drifting briefly toward the distant horizon as though she might be able to see all the way to Hak Etme from here if she tries hard enough. "My brother’s got a contact up north," she adds, her attention sliding back to Colt, the corner of her mouth quirking as her brows lift in a way that doesn’t bother hiding the implication of what that contact was for. "Someone to harvest dream cacti for him in larger quantities than he can grow on his own."
"It gets moved around quietly right now," she continues, tone thoughtful, almost speculative, "but if someone figured out how to make that...less underground? Could be very lucrative I'd say." She lets that hang for a moment before pushing off the table again, stepping just a fraction closer, her head tilting slightly to the side in a way not meant to crowd, but support. "Can I help at all?"
The humour settles, though, as Colt continues, and Flora lets it, her shoulders rising in a small, unbothered shrug at the thought of pain and limping and learning how to carry it. There’s something in her expression that suggests she doesn’t entirely agree, not quite, but she doesn’t push it either, not here, not now, not when the edges of Colt’s loss are still sharp enough to cut. At the quiet praise, though, Flora huffs out a soft laugh, the sound slipping free before she can quite catch it, her head shaking just slightly as if she can’t decide whether to take that as a compliment or call it out for what it is. "Please," she says, though there’s no bite to it, only a wry sort of amusement curling through her tone. "The trick is I run every day."
Her mouth tilts at one corner, something knowingly self-aware in the expression, like she’s letting the joke land where it wants without spelling it out any further, her fingers idly brushing along Spice’s side as the little dragon shifts against her neck.
Falling silent to listen, her head tipping slightly until it rests against the curve of her shoulder where Spice is draped, Flora's aqua eyes narrowing just a fraction in thought as Colt lays it out piece by piece. Hak Etme. Suvahasi. Water, feed, something that doesn’t go up in flames the moment the world decides it’s had enough. When Colt finishes, Flora lets out a soft, incredulous laugh, her brows lifting again. "Damn," she says, the word warm with something that leans a little closer to impressed than teasing. "You’re really not half-assing this, huh."
She shifts her weight, one hip angling against the table again as she considers it, gaze drifting briefly toward the distant horizon as though she might be able to see all the way to Hak Etme from here if she tries hard enough. "My brother’s got a contact up north," she adds, her attention sliding back to Colt, the corner of her mouth quirking as her brows lift in a way that doesn’t bother hiding the implication of what that contact was for. "Someone to harvest dream cacti for him in larger quantities than he can grow on his own."
"It gets moved around quietly right now," she continues, tone thoughtful, almost speculative, "but if someone figured out how to make that...less underground? Could be very lucrative I'd say." She lets that hang for a moment before pushing off the table again, stepping just a fraction closer, her head tilting slightly to the side in a way not meant to crowd, but support. "Can I help at all?"
