Sentinel, Ringmaster Loyal (Noir), and Cresento.
SORRY FOR ART SPAM.||
||Mun’s favorite version.||
You ever notice how other RPer’s seem to find the one mun to RP with where they get to make interesting plots that never die, and they both drop everything to reply as soon as it comes in because they’re so excited about it? They seem to have this bond together that exists both IC and OOC and you know that even if no one else ever RPed with them again they wouldn’t care because they’d still have each other.
I want that. I want that so badly my teeth ache.
Specially in stock for you, Cresento! …Or maybe I spilled gold dust on a box of Oreos. It’s one of those, anyway.
.. glorious. Absolutely glorious.
I’m really scared and nervous, I see an open and I start to panic, I know I really want to answer it and sometimes I get the courage but usually I don’t. So this is more of assurance for me. Letting me know that you’re alright with me answering your open/IC posts.
Well, he’d stumped the other man, it seemed. It wasn’t as if he’d been trying to, but Phil still felt a small sense of satisfaction, regardless. It was nice to at least pretend he’d outsmarted someone else for a change.
Phil bit his lip to keep from smirking at the man’s expression then. He hadn’t realized that bringing up Zhivago would raise ire, but now that he knew it did, Phil wanted to continue, even though he knew in the back of his mind, it was probably a bad idea.
"He’s my fiance," Phil said, resting his hands on top of his head. "I could have sworn that was big news, considering he’s from around here, but I guess only certain people know." He shrugged, watching carefully for another reaction.
Cresento rolled his eyes, letting out a low, barely audible grunt. It didn’t help that discussing personal matters, including but not limited to relationships, wasn’t exactly the airship captain and businessman’s specialty. And out in the open like this, too, where anyone could listen in…
Or where it could disrupt customers. That thought was put to rest when vibrant gold eyes scanned the room and reminded him that they were very much alone at current.
"I’m a very busy man," the captain scolded, crossing his arms over his chest. "I have far more important things to focus on than keeping tabs on the lives of others."
Especially not enemies; but he left that part out.
Phil’s eyes drifted over to the formula as it was placed back on the shelf before making eye contact with the man again. He frowned slightly, wondering if he’d said something wrong.
When the man finally answered his question, Phil sighed and rocked back and forth on his heels slightly, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure how to reply to that; he didn’t come from the same world.
Phil looked up at the ceiling before rolling his eyes back down. “Sorry,” he said quietly, feeling suddenly inadequate. “I guess it’s a hard question to answer, huh.” He smirked and pushed the negative emotions away. He didn’t need to feel dumb just because of where he came from. “I suppose I can get Zhivago to explain it to me, if you can’t.”
"Difficult questions are often the best ones — and the most fascinating," the elf stated carefully. It was intended to be reassuring, but with his drawl, there was always a risk of him sounding bored or annoyed regardless of how interested or entertained he actually was.
Inwardly, the mention of “Zhivago” caused him to tense up, and the defensive walls to raise; on the outside, though, he kept calmly composed. Nothing about the other’s mannerisms thus far indicated a threat.
And if he, by some strange logic, was actually a Kuro Gang lackey, then it certainly was a very expertly-executed cover.
Rather than assuming foul play without basis, Cresento opted to continue enjoying the conversation. Although his lips did purse for another moment, again in thought.
"You are an acquaintance of Zhivago, are you?"