There’s a moment of smug self-satisfaction as the equine beside him startles, unable to help the smirk that pulls over his mouth. He’s been… alive, ever since the battle with the elk, in a way he hasn’t been for a long time -- still underfed and ill-kempt, unable to see caring for himself as a priority, but a certain life had returned to him, especially once they had crossed the threshold of the bar. It might have even been okay, if he wasn’t a raging trash fire of a person… and if he had been seeking out any other vice rather than alcohol. Whiskey always had made him want a good fight, and it seemed his target was the long-suffering soldier next to him. “About fuckin’ time,” He mutters beneath his breath with the words just barely slurred, grabbing the bottle back and taking another swig, breathing through the way it burned the entire way down his throat, before pushing it back towards Teiran. “See if we can’t get ya to fuckin’ relax for once.” She had him on edge, too ready for something to happen -- if anyone needed a vacation, it was the girl with the silver collar. |
@Teiran
