audio; un: cardmaster

[fateality]

Well now. This is all hell of a thing -- ALASTAIR, savin' worlds, temporal bugs full of acid an' whatnot -- but I've got a bit of a conundrum.

I'm a man of many skills, but a cobbler? Oh, far from it. And I've a pair of boots that are a bit in need of a rescue. Suppose I could take what I've been generously given by your very fine organization, but these are a bit near an' dear to my heart.

I don't suppose any of you wondrously talented individuals could help me out? I'd be very much obliged.

Comments

[respired]

I am not interested in getting to know anyone.

Think nothing of it. I insist.

[ Better that way. Safer.

He stands up, collecting his things, sweeping them into the pouches hanging from his belt. He picks up his sword, resting against the counter top, and returns to his back. He cradles the boots in one arm. Frowns at TF. Well, he'll just speak in Thalassian. Not like this man can understand him, regardless. ]

Al diel shala.

[ Safe travels. ]

[fateality]

Oh, I'll be thinkin' on it as I please, frostbite.

[Twisted Fate keeps his smile, observing the strange dead man as he collects his things and prepares to leave.

The words are foreign to him, and he raises a brow, ever curious.

Well. Despite himself, his interest is indeed piqued.]

Be seeing you.