Harrow gives Viatorus a one-armed side hug to remind him of their deep and abiding love, and, smiling, nods at Runa. It was a joke. Jokes are what he does. Especially when out of place.
"If it makes you happy, I'll have mint in my water," he tells her with an amiable nod. "I'll taste it, don't worry. Honestly, I wish I could try your little cakes, too, but I gotta avoid the bread right now. Got a sixty hour shift on guard after this and –" He stops abruptly and pulls a guilty face. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't talk about strange things like what happens when the undead eat bread. Mint water'll be fine. I'll even see if I can't sit down without tearin' up the furniture."
A process which starts with unchaining his unwieldy runeblades from his hips. They crave an opportunity to destroy all furniture and glow in protest when they're freed. Certainly that's the reason. When they're undone he sets them on the ground near the chair he's going to sit in and slips them slightly under, out of sight. The act of sitting in armor is easy, really. It's remembering to keep a proper posture and not allow his spiked pauldrons to poke the back of the chair that's the real talent. And when he's through he folds his hands neatly on the dark tabard which drapes over his lap. Dainty as a man can be in plate mail, really.
Runa gets one last smile to let her know this is fine, that he isn't inconvenienced, and then he looks to Viatorus. "You don't have to wear that, you know," he says with a gesture to the helmet. "That way we can see your smiling face when Runa comes back and tells us all about herself. Unless I'm here to tell her all about me?"
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"If it makes you happy, I'll have mint in my water," he tells her with an amiable nod. "I'll taste it, don't worry. Honestly, I wish I could try your little cakes, too, but I gotta avoid the bread right now. Got a sixty hour shift on guard after this and –" He stops abruptly and pulls a guilty face. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't talk about strange things like what happens when the undead eat bread. Mint water'll be fine. I'll even see if I can't sit down without tearin' up the furniture."
A process which starts with unchaining his unwieldy runeblades from his hips. They crave an opportunity to destroy all furniture and glow in protest when they're freed. Certainly that's the reason. When they're undone he sets them on the ground near the chair he's going to sit in and slips them slightly under, out of sight. The act of sitting in armor is easy, really. It's remembering to keep a proper posture and not allow his spiked pauldrons to poke the back of the chair that's the real talent. And when he's through he folds his hands neatly on the dark tabard which drapes over his lap. Dainty as a man can be in plate mail, really.
Runa gets one last smile to let her know this is fine, that he isn't inconvenienced, and then he looks to Viatorus. "You don't have to wear that, you know," he says with a gesture to the helmet. "That way we can see your smiling face when Runa comes back and tells us all about herself. Unless I'm here to tell her all about me?"