catchall

[nonvenomous]

WHO: Richard Dickerson, friends, enemies, and neutral parties
WHAT: Closed starters, hmu if you want some Dick. Wildcards ok.
WHEN: Before Antiva, during Antiva, after Antiva.
WHERE: Thedas
NOTES: Long overdue for some CR building, ping me if you want to scheme out a reason for them to hang or hit me with a wildcard.

Comments

[nonvenomous]

A wary pinch at his brow marks some suspicion over the nature of whatever has gone unsaid, his capacity for insight less impaired than the rest of him. Bad news.

It’s easy to agree in this case that it should wait; he doesn’t press the issue. It’s late. He’s beat. Every part of him feels heavy against the seat he’s sunken into. The inkblot flop of his cat is palming biscuits wherever her cold beans can reach.

He breathes out, a great puff of air pressed out flat under his mustache and over the rim of his cup. This is what letting go looks like -- a physical dropping down to the question she’s asked in return.

“If there is another incursion I’d rather be in the Gallows in a position to assist than stranded across the bay.” Provided he isn’t locked up in the infirmary healing from whatever other drama. “It’s also safer there. For a Rifter.”

He sips by way of punctuation.