Jiao
Your clothes never wear as well the next day
And your hair never falls in quite the same way
You never seem to run out of things to say
And your hair never falls in quite the same way
You never seem to run out of things to say
It seemed Deimos wasn't done asking her things, which Jiao was fine with; the more essentially free supplies she could grab the better. Slinging the fabric on her back, looping it through the straps of her little bag, she shrugged as he asked what else she wanted. She'd decide depending on the size of the question he asked.
"Weeeell. I don't fully know, because I'm just a seamstress. Not that it's a 'just' kind of thing, but I mean I don't deal with all the....punchy stuff." She said the last two words with a clear distain. Jiao was certainly not kind, but she had never been violent. "But if your friends are in The Pit, they're going to be food."
Jiao mimed a large monstrous chewing, clacking her teeth, a childish action completely inappropriate for the tone of her revelation. "Dunno when, though."
