The broad-shouldered bard sucked the inside of his cheek as the exchange between the armored Hyur and the Elezen heated; he tapped his foot as if some unknown rhythm were playing itself in his head. As the armored form withdrew, and the city authority stepped in, he clucked his tongue, and said, mostly to himself. "Bit of a waste there..."
And then, with a clatter and a shout, the street became a smoky chaos. He simply stood there for a moment, his face scrunched up as if he'd tasted something sour.
Then he laughed, for longer than he had any real need to, trying to catch his breath, less for the smoke but for the performance.
And then, with a clatter and a shout, the street became a smoky chaos. He simply stood there for a moment, his face scrunched up as if he'd tasted something sour.
Then he laughed, for longer than he had any real need to, trying to catch his breath, less for the smoke but for the performance.
"But in the laugh there was another voice. A clearer laugh, an ironic laugh. A laugh which laughs because it chooses not to weep."
![[Image: 3610850.jpg]](http://assets-cloud.enjin.com/users/1266293/pics/original/3610850.jpg)
