You watch Raza look around your house, knowing what's coming and dreading it. "Very polite," you reply with an elevated brow, not rising to the bait. She settles into one of your chairs and you go to join beside, taking the couch and spreading out without much ado.
As for your scar? "You should see th'other guy." It had been a delayed vengeance to be sure, but the Arm-Biter certainly emerged more the worse for wear. An overall win for you, you think. "'Sides, I'm told it makes me look distinguished. Sexy, even." Again you raise a sliced-through eyebrow, clearly waiting for her to weigh in.
Ah, but there's the business end. Raising the glass back to your lips, you take an appreciative sip. "And what're ya heard?" you ask her calmly, interested to know exactly what tidbits your well-informed friend has brought along to share.
Zephyr
you can be the ripest, juciest peach in the world
and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches
and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches
