Aamu
He's glad it's not worse than this (yet: Aamu still does not trust Haulani), that if anything his thief appreciates their due praise. It would've been worse if he would've started screaming about how Aamu should tremble at this feet or something—then he would've been obliged to do something about it.
No, instead it's all just perfectly pleasant, and Aamu catches the ring with ease. It glows softly, smugly, in the light as it rests on his flat palm. "You can keep it if you want to," he offers with a bit of a laugh, not expecting to be taken up on the offer. Who would want a pretty useless and plain old iron ring anyway?
He takes the offered hand, feels the coarse texture of it: rough, calloused. A worker's hand. Sailor's, maybe. And what's this—the savory? My my. Aamu allows himself a bright, approving laugh. It is a grand proclamation, and one he decides to take in a different, more delicious direction. "Are you saying I should take a bite?" he teases with a smile that shows his canines.
No, instead it's all just perfectly pleasant, and Aamu catches the ring with ease. It glows softly, smugly, in the light as it rests on his flat palm. "You can keep it if you want to," he offers with a bit of a laugh, not expecting to be taken up on the offer. Who would want a pretty useless and plain old iron ring anyway?
He takes the offered hand, feels the coarse texture of it: rough, calloused. A worker's hand. Sailor's, maybe. And what's this—the savory? My my. Aamu allows himself a bright, approving laugh. It is a grand proclamation, and one he decides to take in a different, more delicious direction. "Are you saying I should take a bite?" he teases with a smile that shows his canines.
You are the night-time fear
You are the morning when it's clear
You are the morning when it's clear
