"Have they? I'm sure more will never hurt." Gideon answered easily as he saw who was entering, a fellow member of the Order, one Mort was fond of. Relaxing a little upon knowing it wasn't anyone that would hold his secret drink against him had they seen it (he didn't know who those people were, but Falke wasn't one of them), he returned the 'good evening' with a nod.
Apparently, Falke was a regular here at night, which drew a raised brow. It wasn't against any rules, the temple purposefully left open during the dark hours for private prayer and reflection, but Gideon had never quite seen anyone use it for...whatever Falke began to do. For a moment, an indignant objection that this was a place of worship and not a gym bubbled in his chest, but he swallowed it down, deciding it was harmless enough: better to save his energy for the real heretics they were dealing with.
That didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun chastising, though. Walking forward effortlessly, gliding across the stone floor in his robe, he let his hands lace together in his front and looked Falke up and down; a look he had practiced many times in the last 20 years, designed to make the recipient feel as if the Gods themselves were regarding them through Gideon's eyes. "So, you think this is an appropriate space for exercise, this place of calm contemplation of our Gods?" He asked, voice even and steady, a slight smile on his lips the only evidence he was not really too mad.
Apparently, Falke was a regular here at night, which drew a raised brow. It wasn't against any rules, the temple purposefully left open during the dark hours for private prayer and reflection, but Gideon had never quite seen anyone use it for...whatever Falke began to do. For a moment, an indignant objection that this was a place of worship and not a gym bubbled in his chest, but he swallowed it down, deciding it was harmless enough: better to save his energy for the real heretics they were dealing with.
That didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun chastising, though. Walking forward effortlessly, gliding across the stone floor in his robe, he let his hands lace together in his front and looked Falke up and down; a look he had practiced many times in the last 20 years, designed to make the recipient feel as if the Gods themselves were regarding them through Gideon's eyes. "So, you think this is an appropriate space for exercise, this place of calm contemplation of our Gods?" He asked, voice even and steady, a slight smile on his lips the only evidence he was not really too mad.
GIDEON
You claim to be virtuous, but you're a liar
And you'll feel the heat of the flames
And you'll feel the heat of the flames
