Whisper
:send me ‘whisper’ for my muse to whisper one of these in your muse’s ear:
The halls of the Keep had been quiet - almost too quiet as Bishop roamed, still somewhat buzzed from his recent trip to the Phoenix Tail. There was no stumble to his walk, he wasn’t that far gone, but the alcohol on his breath could be detected without him so much as parting his lips.
The man was clearly drunk.
Black hair caught his peripheral vision, forcing the ranger to do a double take before his mind recognized the figure as Sand in the next hall. No doubt making his way to do something with… with books or… other short people.
It was then Bishop realized he was far past drunk.
He hadn’t even realized he’d been nearly the elf while he’d been thinking, and he closed the distance between them fairly quickly. He was able to grab a fistful of the other man’s hair to pull him close, his mouth pressed against the side of his head, breathing right into his ear as the air was stained with toxic water.
“It’s now or never, knife ears.”