KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
Dark blue eyes flitted over the tattooed skin. Korbin knew the style, could tell it was fresh work and that it was made by an artist. One of the best, whose work covered the skin of both himself and his sister. Rather than feel any bond of kinship at the connection however, it made his lip curl.
"See, that's the thing I don't get. Why do we have to do anything to help you out?" He bore the scrutiny of Sunjata's gaze with seeming ease, more than a little sceptic about this man. He reeked of trouble, and if he wanted Weaver to gossip, then there had to be a reason for it. "Why are you here?"
It was a challenge, the question hard and clear and unwavering. Encompassing much more than the man's presence within the tavern; it extended to him being in Halo, too. Casually opening business, taking advantage of their services... and for what?
"See, that's the thing I don't get. Why do we have to do anything to help you out?" He bore the scrutiny of Sunjata's gaze with seeming ease, more than a little sceptic about this man. He reeked of trouble, and if he wanted Weaver to gossip, then there had to be a reason for it. "Why are you here?"
It was a challenge, the question hard and clear and unwavering. Encompassing much more than the man's presence within the tavern; it extended to him being in Halo, too. Casually opening business, taking advantage of their services... and for what?
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
