Crushes wine-glass with her bare hand.
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Crushes wine-glass with her bare hand.
Leaves a taffy -just- within their eyesight.
It couldn’t have been an accident. The Grand General never did things without purpose. Biting their lip, trying to not think about it, ignore it even, Talon could only try to force their gaze away from the small treat. It was simple, really; He obviously wanted them to take it, and so did they. The taffies were infamous both for their taste and their unknown origins.
… When they were sure his attention was elsewhere, the assassin would move in and take it with a quick, delicate swipe. Possible, cunning ulterior motives aside, they smile to themselves at just the thought of the sweet’s taste.
❛ you look terrible. ❜
Baba Yaga
At his words, the assassin retreated into their hood; its shade further covering their features. Almost as if caught in the act, Talon’s gaze moves to the ground, unwilling to meet the Grand General’s own. A lack of self-discipline had lead to late, sleepless nights, stewing over internalised problems and running around the shadowed city. Without any mission to focus on, the assassin fell back onto the slippery slope their own devices.
“Does that trouble you, sir?” Talon’s raspy, underused voice asks. Eyes highlighted by dark circles dare look in his direction, now; their usual brightness darkened and dulled.