Leaning back against the wall for a moment, the sunset bruised the skyline a dark purple against the clouds that rolled in. He was already beginning to feel the damp flecks of almost-rain on the sharp bones of his cheeks and the serpentine curl of wet wind that drew them in closer. Gamorath had taken leave for the night--the benefit, he thought dryly before he could quite erase the thought, of having someone to take your post. It was a luxury he didn't need, he reminded himself, one of many, and he straightened and stood against the impending rain. Letting something like rain drive him inside seemed like giving up, somehow--or perhaps like giving in. Equal parts curiosity and...something less courageous, perhaps...kept him from refuge, but the latter was easily dismissed. It would, he reasserted, take more than a little rain.

It was perhaps fifteen minutes later that he was eating his words, biting back curses under his breath as he made his ( sodden way inside. )