[ he's quiet at first, again letting the silence of the room (not counting whatever the heck is going on around them in adjacent ones) carry some unseen weight as he turns. he sits, cross-legged, sitting up straight with his hands staying in his lap. no longer is a tail batting itself against lighter--- instead, it's the focused glare of a cat who wants to get a better look at someone he might carve up.
and then he leans forward, tilting his head. the long, sandy colored braid that coils around his neck and over his shoulders falls in that same direction. ]
no subject
and then he leans forward, tilting his head. the long, sandy colored braid that coils around his neck and over his shoulders falls in that same direction. ]
What do you think you deserve?
[ leaks could be merciful if he wanted to. ]