( Daithi shakes his head, coming to his senses. ) No... ( he means as his own apology.
he stands — finds his instinct is to place either palm on his thigh and it isn't the lack of balance, he is growing accustom to that, but the little things, now, missing. he slows for a moment, a slight hitch in the motion, then steps a pace from the shipment. gesturing, ) Suppose it depends on how cold it gets in Beacon.
( then, smiling, a little crooked and private: ) ...something like that.
( what the Inquisitor does or does not deserve in death... he can, at least, enjoy freedom from the title, can't he? )
no subject
he stands — finds his instinct is to place either palm on his thigh and it isn't the lack of balance, he is growing accustom to that, but the little things, now, missing. he slows for a moment, a slight hitch in the motion, then steps a pace from the shipment. gesturing, ) Suppose it depends on how cold it gets in Beacon.
( then, smiling, a little crooked and private: ) ...something like that.
( what the Inquisitor does or does not deserve in death... he can, at least, enjoy freedom from the title, can't he? )