Out of the Frying Pan

Neron

you're so cold
put your hand in mine

"Still a bit invasive though, isn't it?" Neron flashes a fanged smirk over his shoulder at Sam, as if to suggest that it doesn't matter whether or not the Voice likes what they're getting up to. The bottom line is that she can still snoop on them whenever the mood strikes her. "Then again, I imagine she has more important things to do than watch me clean a bar." Or go on secret dates with Halo's Warden. Or whatever else makes up his day to day.

A little more lanky than his companion, Neron drops easily down from the rocky outcrop they've approached, the Hailstorm raising an eyebrow at the tell-tale ruddy glow ahead, suggesting a heavy stream of lava. He keeps his magic readied at his fingertips, just in case. "It just happened, I think. I don't know that the Voice could take it out." he says, his tone mildly conversational even as he slows his steps, wary of the fire that might burst around any corner. "Did you ever meet her? Rexanna, I mean."

wise men wonder
while strong men die