[ The second jacket he'd layered in under his coat is shed and hung, trusting the room will get warm enough eventually, and that if not, he can do something magical about it. He sits on the floor with the cushion, with the slight stiffness of a cold day in his bones (and the encroaching marker of 40, literally any day now). At ease with a lack of decorum in a way his day-to-day vibe does not always imply.
He works at getting his boots off, having nodded to this news of a found sister and otherwise more interested in loosening a knot he'd apparently been more firm than necessary with in the tying.
But he does look up at that name, pausing over it. Yes, the enormous sword woman. ]
no subject
He works at getting his boots off, having nodded to this news of a found sister and otherwise more interested in loosening a knot he'd apparently been more firm than necessary with in the tying.
But he does look up at that name, pausing over it. Yes, the enormous sword woman. ]
She seems hard to lose.