Harper
I thank whatever gods may be
for my unconquerable soul
Harper laughs through his mouthful, nearly choking on it which only makes him laugh harder as his fist pounds at his chest. "What did the flour ever do to you Olly?" He wheezes after he swallows down the bread, eyes bright with mirth. "It's already ground to bits, don't make it any worse!" Still the image is absolutely hilarious. Harper can't help but fondly think that Oliver likely doesn't have the best fighting form. Has trained too many youngsters to wonder if he tucked his thumb beneath his fingers, or threw too wide. Finds himself wishing he'd been there, and missing his trainees even more. But if there's one thing Harper is good at - besides acrobatics, beating people up, and having a great ass - it's compartmentalizing. Though that's a nice term for knowing how to distinctly ignore negative emotions to avoid having them show on his face or distract him. "Hey, so you're saying I'm not sexy?!" He throws a little pebble near his shoe at Oliver, grinning even despite his outrage.
"Well...I think I'll let it come when it comes. I'm not too worried about it, I'm still me regardless. What can you tell me about these gods though?" He diverts the conversation away from races, not wanting to explore the potential with Oliver there. He adores the young man, but some scars are simply too deep.
