sine morte

“Oh, so feeding you on the regular is being a good friend? Good to know,” he laughs, shaking his head. “I dunno, honestly. I just do whatever. I’m glad it’s actually appreciated.”

“Tired, huh,” he says with a snort. “Long day? I feel that. Lucky for you I’m in the middle of making stuff for opening the bar tonight.” That said, he disappears for a bit and comes back with a plate of fried cockatrice wings. “No sauce yet, but here y’go.”

Is leaned on. “Can I help you?” He asks with a grin. “Or are you just coming to badger me for more free food?”

“Well, if you insist, o great and mighty hunter,” he teases, and disappears into the back of the bar. He comes back a few minutes later with a serving of the bar’s fried sampler platter (chunks of cockatrice, daggerquill, karlabos, trevally, and gigantoad, all nice and crispy fried) and a basket of fries. “Here you go,” he says with a grin, depositing it on the counter. “Saw you coming and put ‘em in the fryer.”

Granted again it’s only a basic layout, but here you are!

RAVENCLAW 15%

“The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed. The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed...Only courage in the face of doubt can lead one to the answer..." Emperor symbolizes the desire to control one's surroundings, and its appearance could suggest that one is trying too hard to achieve this, possibly causing trouble for others; some elements in life are just not controllable. Often times, you are troubled by something very personal, and doesn't know how to deal with it.

“It...is?” Blink blink...blink. “Huh. Thanks, I guess...?”

“---wait, what?” You got him, Pol, he’s red now.

Pats his head. “Aw, how cute.”

“Sorry for the Imperial short gene, guys,” he and his six-one ass is preening. “I never knew my mom but I’m guessing she’s not from here.”

“Does everything count, since I technically own a bar?” No? He snorts. “Black Imperials. Y’know, vodka and coffee liqueur. Or the variation with cream in it. Those or screwdrivers. So….vodka, basically?”

“I think there is,” he says with a shrug, grabbing the towel to finish wiping down the rest of the glasses behind the counter. “Listen to people bitch, don’t forget what goes in what drink, learn how to say the stupidest cocktail names with a straight face, and don’t snitch on customers,” he rattles off half-jokingly, before listening with sympathetic interest. “Ooohhh, that sounds hellish,” he says, grimacing. “I’m gonna go ahead and guess the ‘requires attention’ pile was a fraction the size of the other piles, huh? Can’t imagine the old coot cares about much beyond whatever he’s up to this week.” Is there some salt? Yeah.

Walks in. “....Why the absolute fuck do we have torture-- wait. No. Nevermind, I really don’t want to hear this.” The less he knows, the better.

He shakes his head. “No, you have a point. I mean...” He shrugs again. “I think the problem is that a lot of Empire citizens are just resigned to the fact that their voices won’t be heard even if they shout, so they don’t try. What’s the point when the people who do get noticed get killed? Not saying that’s right, just how it is.” Living in the Empire was a lot more complicated than those outside of it seemed to think.

“Mm, ‘kinda’ in that it’s pretty much against the rules to be doing it but I do it anyway?” He shrugs. “I cook, too. Self-taught, but no one’s told me I suck yet, so guess I’m doing something right.” He snorts at her comment, though. “Thing about that? Can’t judge an entire country by the jackass leaders. We’re all people, too. Not all of us are assholes.”