Kostya peered at his phone, and then at Mimsy's form. The woman was a ball of tightly wound fury, eclipsed only by her annoyance. Clearly, this Clerise girl was not a pleasant memory to her; given the amount of embarrassing information she was revealing by the second,

He grimaced.

Without a word, he carded through his belongings, glibly handing her a series of pencils, old CDs, and other fragile, easily broken things.

He hmmed non-committally.

"Ve should spar," he offered, cautious. The hunter didn't necessarily want to; but he felt it was necessary, to ease Mimsy's mind. That took priority over what he wanted, any day of the week.

"Vill help."

[syntax.error@K.BASHMET ~]# play battlemusic-ffx.mp3


The refrains of a familiar song started ringing in Konstantin's head.

nothing yet