Nate
“I haven’t.” Nate confirms simply, the words barely making it through the tightly drawn line of his lips. A short sigh leaves him as Isla makes excuses and offers explanations, the heavy toe of his boot slipping across the snowy ground and kicking up dirt. “I’m sure there’s a reason. I mean, it’s gotta be something good, right? Something really worthwhile.” The sullen, mocking tone of his voice makes it clear there’s absolutely nothing that comes to his mind, no reason good enough, but that’s neither here nor there. They’re focusing on relics now anyways.
Far be it for Nate to question the wisdom of them going to Stormbreak again, though he is still hesitant. As far as he’s concerned, he’d only just returned from Stormbreak. His fellow doctor is right though, they cannot afford to let any more relics slip through their fingers. “I guess we need to move fast then? What’s the plan?” The VlamVloed rises up before them, Nate pausing on the threshold of the bar before stepping in, tipping his chin to indicate Isla should enter first. “I’m best as a weapon, but… well, good tools listen, huh?”
Do you read fuck-up in my walk?
Do you see fuck-up on my face?
Do you see fuck-up on my face?
Do I mean anything at all?
