[Honestly, is there any greater compliment than "thought you were dead (but you arne't)," no there isn't. Not that Palamedes is privy to this thought, and not that he shares it himself— he levels his feverish and miserable gaze at her and furrows his brow; the last time he saw her was... well, back around all that Canaan House misery.
Well, whatever. He looks at the face on his acorn effigy again.]
Rude. My eyeball tits look fantastic.
[So there. Now, he's curious about the relative differences here, but...]
This is the least like shit you've ever looked. Congratulations.
no subject
Well, whatever. He looks at the face on his acorn effigy again.]
Rude. My eyeball tits look fantastic.
[So there. Now, he's curious about the relative differences here, but...]
This is the least like shit you've ever looked. Congratulations.