super lavitz, the hero of bahamut (gripes) wrote in emillion, |
"You're never going to pronounce that right," Lavitz couldn't help but say, the tease too easy with present company, despite how flat it sounded on his own ears. As everything did, recently. In a move that belied his noble status and upbringing, he slipped both hands into his pockets, not slouching, but not appearing too comfortable either. He was always caught between two places these days. A little of this, a little of that, nothing concrete. No answers, no certainty.
Lavitz nearly dug his elbow into his friend's arm as he fell out of thought, nearly forgetting to dodge a passing girl with flowers in arm. Faram, how scatterbrained could a person be? This time, he did sigh. "How many sweets are we talking?" I need to watch my figure, he might've joked under normal circumstances.