Amalia
This time Amalia anticipates the grab, keeping hold of her staff and shoving it forward to try and catch the captain off-balance. She is growing weary with this fight, long since tired of Roana's obstinance, her insistence that she is the martyr in this play. Tilting her head, she scowls again at the idea of people acting like you did, as though Amalia's dislike of the captain was somehow less than warranted. Sighing slightly, she takes a step back, hoping to take her staff with her but with hands raised empty if Roana has not let go.
"It sounds like you have your work cut out." It isn't sarcastic or cruel, just tired, a statement of observation. Pulling her arms across her chest, the baker turns to walk away, no longer possessing the bandwidth to manage this conversation. Only as she turns does she pause, looking halfway over his shoulder, a quiet olive branch extended. "If you find something... I'm usually at the bakery, or the Antheneum."
"It sounds like you have your work cut out." It isn't sarcastic or cruel, just tired, a statement of observation. Pulling her arms across her chest, the baker turns to walk away, no longer possessing the bandwidth to manage this conversation. Only as she turns does she pause, looking halfway over his shoulder, a quiet olive branch extended. "If you find something... I'm usually at the bakery, or the Antheneum."
