[ Considering what she did on this road about — two hours now, she wants to say? — watching Saber kill yet again has less of an effect as having his nose brush up against her did. Most of the red staining her clothes belongs to someone else, after all, something she'd rather not talk about with him, if only so he can't call her out for a thing or ten.
Cellar's shoulders relax, a little annoyed that he went ahead and did it anyway. It's the same kind of predictable disappointment reserved for cats that nudge a glass of water off the edge of a table, as if he isn't the one with several decades of experience on her. Maybe that's why he's so happy to give negative fucks about going overboard. Cellar still feels like she needs a good reason to do that.
What's done is done, she supposes. Her leg is clear of shadows just before his touch fixes one of several problems witnessed by this road. Cellar stares at him for a moment longer, lower lip sucked in to lick dry tissue. Ugh. She blames Queen, only Queen, and won't be taking questions or comments at this time, thank you.
Sliding off the hood, one hand on his shoulder, she bends her leg slowly, rotates her ankle, grabs it like she's warming up for a race before finally standing straight. As good as new, if not better than before. ]
Thanks. [ A pause. Before she has to brace for what's probably coming next, ] Are we going to bury the guy, at least?
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Cellar's shoulders relax, a little annoyed that he went ahead and did it anyway. It's the same kind of predictable disappointment reserved for cats that nudge a glass of water off the edge of a table, as if he isn't the one with several decades of experience on her. Maybe that's why he's so happy to give negative fucks about going overboard. Cellar still feels like she needs a good reason to do that.
What's done is done, she supposes. Her leg is clear of shadows just before his touch fixes one of several problems witnessed by this road. Cellar stares at him for a moment longer, lower lip sucked in to lick dry tissue. Ugh. She blames Queen, only Queen, and won't be taking questions or comments at this time, thank you.
Sliding off the hood, one hand on his shoulder, she bends her leg slowly, rotates her ankle, grabs it like she's warming up for a race before finally standing straight. As good as new, if not better than before. ]
Thanks. [ A pause. Before she has to brace for what's probably coming next, ] Are we going to bury the guy, at least?