Unlike her, this was actually a normalthing to do. Bathe. He may have grew up on the streets, and crawled through every gutter imaginable, but at the end of the day even if it were just a puddle of stagnate water, he'd still find the time to wipe the dirt from his face. That and he had a ship of his own, one with a tub in it, too! It was an expensive luxury, that was for sure.
Despite having his own ship and private cabin, he rarely spent his time on the ship. The less time spent on his only treasure, the less likely it was to be targeted; by anyone and everyone. So he'd visit his room at the inn often, if he needed things like sleep, food or even privacy. And when not in the tavern, he was exploring the city with a few new agenda's to attend to. People to meet, faces to remember, some to kiss- others to break. Whores, rivals, merchants, little by little he'd stretch his roots.
So to be taken by surprise like such, most would claim their heads were in the clouds, or they were taken by deep thought. Such a wasteful, and generic one might add, excuse. To put it simply, Zhavi was a ruttin' shadow among souls. She moved quick and she moved efficiently; too efficiently. She'd land beside him and take claim of his shirt, but not before he'd take claim of her throat. Held possessively, rather out of instinct or reaction, he'd glare with daggers of ire while his fight or flight instinct was held off by her familiarity. With the pistol left back on the ship, he'd not fill her with lead tonight.
Looking down at the runner, he'd grind his teeth in the most disgusted of scowls; touche, ye ruttin' scab. It wasn't often he was caught with his back to the wall. He'd beat her kidneys in later for it.Â
Despite having his own ship and private cabin, he rarely spent his time on the ship. The less time spent on his only treasure, the less likely it was to be targeted; by anyone and everyone. So he'd visit his room at the inn often, if he needed things like sleep, food or even privacy. And when not in the tavern, he was exploring the city with a few new agenda's to attend to. People to meet, faces to remember, some to kiss- others to break. Whores, rivals, merchants, little by little he'd stretch his roots.
So to be taken by surprise like such, most would claim their heads were in the clouds, or they were taken by deep thought. Such a wasteful, and generic one might add, excuse. To put it simply, Zhavi was a ruttin' shadow among souls. She moved quick and she moved efficiently; too efficiently. She'd land beside him and take claim of his shirt, but not before he'd take claim of her throat. Held possessively, rather out of instinct or reaction, he'd glare with daggers of ire while his fight or flight instinct was held off by her familiarity. With the pistol left back on the ship, he'd not fill her with lead tonight.
Looking down at the runner, he'd grind his teeth in the most disgusted of scowls; touche, ye ruttin' scab. It wasn't often he was caught with his back to the wall. He'd beat her kidneys in later for it.Â
Jager Si'kaie
But it costs me nothing to kill you~
