[ Shaking his head, it's not about him. He deflects it, aimed precise like an arrow. He lounges back, legs crossed and gaze as confident as ever. Comfortable, his body language read. That was good, if it wasn't an act. ]
They have. [ A beat. ] Wouldn't be a Fontanian without a fair share of trouble brewing like a storm.
[ Even joking, friendly as he was, feels... uncomfortable. Like it was okay to let that mask slip just enough for Lyney to breathe. ]
no subject
They have. [ A beat. ] Wouldn't be a Fontanian without a fair share of trouble brewing like a storm.
[ Even joking, friendly as he was, feels... uncomfortable. Like it was okay to let that mask slip just enough for Lyney to breathe. ]
...Tea, in your case.