Kaisel
Having seen this response coming from a mile away, Kaisel lifts from his bow and the silent roar of the crowd's adoration into something utterly impassive. Slowly one arm, then the other, crosses over his chest, and he leans further into one leg as if needing the kickstand for however she might try and push him over.
"Is this not, a campfire?" he queries with the faintest head tilt, gaze darting to their ramshackle start of one, which does momentarily call into question if this fits the bill yet or not. The intent is there at least, and that seems enough for him. "Was that not a song, sung round said campfire?" One hand untucks itself to gesture plainly at the assembled sticks and stones, some of which she's trying to use to punch holes in the good ol' cephalopod.
Though, resist as he attempts to, her laughter is a contagious thing that tugs adamantly at the corner of his lips. He tries to correct it like one might a wrinkle in their suit. "It's catchy, it's silly, and it's educational. All the proper ingredients for a camp song." The why hardly seems to matter. It'd been a tool to shut young boys up, and that makes it invaluable. "What, you thought we only sang about smelly socks and fists?" He scoffs, as if her profiling is completely unfounded, despite all evidence otherwise.
"Is this not, a campfire?" he queries with the faintest head tilt, gaze darting to their ramshackle start of one, which does momentarily call into question if this fits the bill yet or not. The intent is there at least, and that seems enough for him. "Was that not a song, sung round said campfire?" One hand untucks itself to gesture plainly at the assembled sticks and stones, some of which she's trying to use to punch holes in the good ol' cephalopod.
Though, resist as he attempts to, her laughter is a contagious thing that tugs adamantly at the corner of his lips. He tries to correct it like one might a wrinkle in their suit. "It's catchy, it's silly, and it's educational. All the proper ingredients for a camp song." The why hardly seems to matter. It'd been a tool to shut young boys up, and that makes it invaluable. "What, you thought we only sang about smelly socks and fists?" He scoffs, as if her profiling is completely unfounded, despite all evidence otherwise.
Haters on my back like a backpack
Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless
Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless
Code stolen from Queen Sky
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
