"So do you think I have a chance with Lethe?" Skandra amused himself with the noise of his own voice. "I would definitely perform my duties with due diligence, if you catch my meaning."
"Yeah," sighed Cavras. "We caught it."
"Weren't we here for a reason?" the blonde chimed.
Ithacles had to admit the idea was funny. If only to see Lethe being restrained from flinging herself from the hgihest tower when she realized what she had done. A small smirk crossed his face. People rarely, if ever, spoke to him in such familiar ways. Soldiers are often brutal to one another, in a paradoxically caring way. But no matter what level of camaraderie he established with the Reavers, that barrier did still exist all around him and his title.
"Refreshing," he said out loud. Not the cider of course, which looked like so much flat urine sitting in his pewter cup.
He noticed something glimmer on the wall and realized that it was a small mirror. Probably hadn't seen it before because it was grey and sooty with lamp oil and disrepair, but still, he could make out shapes in the room behind him.
"So..." he started, looking into that small round soot-stained mirror. Of course he had no rest of the sentence.