[As far as trespassers go, the man waiting in the tent is unremarkable. He is neither thin nor fat, neither particularly good looking nor remarkable unfortunate. The shape of his dark clothes is worn slightly about the edges. In the shade of both tent and brow, his eyes are ambiguously dark. Indeed if there is any instantly definable quality about his person, it is something in the combative jut of his chin—the animal way in which he holds himself as a dog in possession of a bone and ready to scrap for it might.]
That's no way to treat a guest. And after I've gone through all this trouble.
[Rap says silvered canine-shaped handle of the cane he carries against the table top. Between it and a certain tip of the man's temple, it's clearly meant to indicate the second chair. Sit, won't you?]
no subject
That's no way to treat a guest. And after I've gone through all this trouble.
[Rap says silvered canine-shaped handle of the cane he carries against the table top. Between it and a certain tip of the man's temple, it's clearly meant to indicate the second chair. Sit, won't you?]
Tell me, how are the Free Cities?