If you feel like night is falling
A long, lofty sigh is the only appropriate response for the two clearly delighted women. His misery the source of their revelry. Despite the unamused press of his lips, a glimmer of approval for being so thoroughly got gleams in his gaze. "It is the herpes of crafts," he moans, and as if feeling it the moment the idea is put in his head, his spare hand lifts to scratch absently at the back of his head where perhaps a small fleck of glitter does indeed tumble free.
"Don't worry, payback's a bitch, as they say." He flashes a devious, warning grin towards Melita. Although he's certain it won't daunt her in the least, and if anything he maybe just declared war, an ante she'd be sure to up, never one content to just submit to defeat, especially not when it's dealing with the strong suit of her abilities, which is simply just: fuckery. "Did you show Aithne your new cannons?" he wonders, pointedly swerving away from splintering peace treaties.
"Don't worry, payback's a bitch, as they say." He flashes a devious, warning grin towards Melita. Although he's certain it won't daunt her in the least, and if anything he maybe just declared war, an ante she'd be sure to up, never one content to just submit to defeat, especially not when it's dealing with the strong suit of her abilities, which is simply just: fuckery. "Did you show Aithne your new cannons?" he wonders, pointedly swerving away from splintering peace treaties.
Iskra
I wanna be the one you're calling
