we're always running scared but holding knives
"No? You'd not crush him with your bad hand just to prove that you don't even need all your fingers to do it? I thought I knew you, Remi," Isla says with a wistful sigh - only to promptly smack him in the side to hear his quip about her dress sense. "My taste is impeccable, Remi Taliesin. If I had a chance to dress you, every woman in Caido would be dribbling at your feet. Alas, you'll just have to remain unharrassed."
Raising her eyebrows, she shrugs at him. "War is always glorified in people's heads," she points out. "It was more being covered in blood and sweat and shit, and telling people they'd be fine when they didn't stand a chance." And if it weren't for the drop in the illusion, Isla might have been drawn back into those memories.
Instead, she lolls her head back as he stutters over the words, offering him an understanding grin. "Without imagining a really good piece of cake?" she guesses. "I know what you mean... though I do have to wonder why you don't want to lick the frosting off other women, Mister Gay But With One Exception."
Raising her eyebrows, she shrugs at him. "War is always glorified in people's heads," she points out. "It was more being covered in blood and sweat and shit, and telling people they'd be fine when they didn't stand a chance." And if it weren't for the drop in the illusion, Isla might have been drawn back into those memories.
Instead, she lolls her head back as he stutters over the words, offering him an understanding grin. "Without imagining a really good piece of cake?" she guesses. "I know what you mean... though I do have to wonder why you don't want to lick the frosting off other women, Mister Gay But With One Exception."
Isla
