Now pruned to an unsightly excuse of a Hyur, Flynt thought it was about damn time to go. His wandering would lead him to the rocky cliff of Outer La Noscea, where lo and behold, the bird came fluttering down. Again. It seems every couple hours the little avian has something to give, enjoyable, sure, but still rather immersion-breaking. Would you want to be assaulted by a miniature chocobo in a funny hat, whipping questions at you like some sort of fantasy paparazzi? Didn't think so. Thankfully, Flynt was a filthy attention whore, and viewed every letter as an ego boost. Reading the note, he felt... Less than stellar. Insulted, almost.
Without much hesitation at all, the answer was clear as day:
His penmanship was a slipshod, conveying the near-reflexive answer with his penstrokes alone. By the density of Thal's left testicle has Flynt ever been so insulted, such a mundane question, read less as a riddle than a test of his wit; something that needs little testing, to be frank. He sat at Overlook, drumming his fingers over his bent knee as he sat on the airship landing, waiting for what she had to say now, if she could control the situation without inadvertently angering the straightforward gentleman.
Without much hesitation at all, the answer was clear as day:
"IÍt's aÍ Í blÍ¢oÍ odÍœy̸ p̧oÌ¡meÌ¢gÌ›raÍ¢nÍœate,Íœ d̸o y͘ou taÍkÍ¡eÍ Í¡me ̵fÌ¡oÌ¢r Ì¢şoÒ‰me Í sÍ¡oÍ rÌ¡t of ͘fÌ•oÌ·ol?"
His penmanship was a slipshod, conveying the near-reflexive answer with his penstrokes alone. By the density of Thal's left testicle has Flynt ever been so insulted, such a mundane question, read less as a riddle than a test of his wit; something that needs little testing, to be frank. He sat at Overlook, drumming his fingers over his bent knee as he sat on the airship landing, waiting for what she had to say now, if she could control the situation without inadvertently angering the straightforward gentleman.
![[Image: UsyQa9f.gif]](http://i.imgur.com/UsyQa9f.gif)
