[at least he lands on his stomach! though that landing, in conjugation with the bruises and lacerations sustained during his tromp to the Timeshare earlier, is pretty damn painful. he lets out a hiss, eyes slipping shut for the briefest of moments, before he manages to somehow get his right arm to prop himself up again. and when he lifts his head. . .]
[Croix is there. he recognizes her face from the crowds-- one of the twenty-five people brought to the Hare's Abode to celebrate her unbirthday. but it's past curfew, so why is she. . .]
[. . .]
[he freezes, one good eye flickering down to her hand, and then up again. he makes no attempts to take said hand]
. . . it's past curfew, you know.
[he says evenly. coolly, even, purposefully not answering her question]
no subject
[Croix is there. he recognizes her face from the crowds-- one of the twenty-five people brought to the Hare's Abode to celebrate her unbirthday. but it's past curfew, so why is she. . .]
[. . .]
[he freezes, one good eye flickering down to her hand, and then up again. he makes no attempts to take said hand]
. . . it's past curfew, you know.
[he says evenly. coolly, even, purposefully not answering her question]