// @innblastvr (Thorne) sent: ❛You got me fair and square last time. Though I’m a little bitter anyway.❜
"Would you prefer I took you dishonorably?"
The monotone query accompanies a slight quirk of the brow, the bottle in his hand pausing half the way to his lips whilst he holds to consider Thorne with an otherwise gently knitted visage - leisurly displeasure presenting itself as ever the norm upon his features, even in resting;
The great wyrm sits, lounged and intemperately sunk into the worn, red-felted armchair by a corner claimed his own (if for the moment), dressed in warmly dim light and legs haphazardly spread with little care but for completing the perfectly posed image of one so disinclined to move in any near beat of time. Few more hours and he might well become part of the upholstery. And yet, despite the passive disposition he watches his company keenly, lazily lidded eyes only doing so much to quell the sharpness of the gaze which tracks the tieflings movements. Assessing.
"As I recall the insistence was yours." He hums in continuum, a faint rumble to the words sounding almost suspiciously amused as he brings the bottle of rum back to mouth. "It's hardly my concern if a devil can't hold his drink."