If there was anything that the man could call himself, it was a fighter, and it is a delighted sort of smirk that crosses his face as he further ponders how such a hunt might go on. Even so, his gaze is distrustful as he eyes the golden stallion, the sneer on his face deepening. “And if you’re so divine, why do you need us to handle your problems?” Even as he speaks, he’s already turning to leave the group behind, to find solitude in the Night Court and escape what seemed to be constant companionship. Not for the first time, he cursed the strange mare who had insisted that he follow her back to the relative safety of the Court -- he missed his desert, the solitude and peace he could find out there. At least that thrice-damned vulture hadn’t followed him here. |
mattie out
