Tal chewed his lip, glaring down into his ale as if it had kicked one of his dogs. On the one hand... but on the other... "What kind of trouble?" he couldn't stop himself from asking, with all the fascination of watching an avalanche starting to roll and not knowing if it would be a small slide of snow or a roaring cascade that tore out trees and reshaped mountain sides.
As for the timey-wimey side of the conversation, the courier just nodded. "Routines are good," he agreed, and gave Finn what he hoped was a supportive - and not constipated - smile. Then he took another drink of his ale, hoping the social lubricant would start kicking in soon.
As for the timey-wimey side of the conversation, the courier just nodded. "Routines are good," he agreed, and gave Finn what he hoped was a supportive - and not constipated - smile. Then he took another drink of his ale, hoping the social lubricant would start kicking in soon.
