[He asks the question with the same amount of skepticism that he'd reserve for a question like "you put vinegar in your cereal?" or some other ludicrous claim.
He taps his claws on the table. Like his scales, they're as black as the night sky. Dylas slows down with each passing second before he finally stops.]
I know how to read between the lines. [He's pouting. A little. His stern face vanishes and is replaced with a look of exasperation. What is he supposed to do with this girl?] If you'd written it better, I would've gotten it.
[That's rude, but. His eyes narrow. He's still...not sure.]
no subject
[He asks the question with the same amount of skepticism that he'd reserve for a question like "you put vinegar in your cereal?" or some other ludicrous claim.
He taps his claws on the table. Like his scales, they're as black as the night sky. Dylas slows down with each passing second before he finally stops.]
I know how to read between the lines. [He's pouting. A little. His stern face vanishes and is replaced with a look of exasperation. What is he supposed to do with this girl?] If you'd written it better, I would've gotten it.
[That's rude, but. His eyes narrow. He's still...not sure.]
Is it true?