Oh, the summoner is quick to throw his arm around the troubadour's shoulder, hauling him closer in an awkward sort of hug with a smile spread wide on his lips. "Welcome to the Order of Heroes," He speaks up, a laugh following his words at just uttering the group's name, "Though, don't let it fool you. Not all of us are heroes," And his grin wides, nose wrinkling slightly before he's pulling away to slip around to the man's front, holding his arms out stretched. "Name's Isaak. I called you here."
The leather of his glove protests when he clenches the reins in his hands. As stubborn as the stallion could be, the horse got the hint and stayed still, hiking his head up to keep Fraust from rocking too much from the Summoner’s. Generous welcome.
“Called?” He muttered around a burning cigar with a raised brow, almost as if the word itself was foreign. There was no swift movement, no urgency when Fraust reached and bunched Isaak’s shirt, keeping him in place while he allowed the reins to slip from his hand.
The embers brightened as he took a drag, plucking the cigar from his lips.
“Parading around as a ‘hero’... Being welcomed as if you sent an invitation... Did you think summoning me would allow you to have me obediently submit?” A heavy stream of smoke glided through the air as he breathed it out, tired of talking with puffs escaping. His eyes stared, dull as ever at the Summoner.
“... Get in my way again, and you will regret having ‘called’ me.”
