[ It’s good enough to not be worth a second glance, really. Gabranth never looked particularly casual when in Balthier’s company, and there’s no particular concern about people learning the differences between the brothers until later. The room is only a bit out of sorts. There’s a writing desk with a leather bound volume on it with one opened to a page with a series of sketches of a pumpkin creature that look like they belong in a bestiary. His bed is made in rather slapdash fashion, and there’s two bottles of liquor set beside—-one empty on its side and one mostly full, no glasses in sight. Most notably, a favored gun, Betelgeuse, leans against the wall within arms reach of the bed.
He locks the door behind him, offering a somewhat lopsided smirk to the man before he crosses the room over to his bed to sit and fetch up the whiskey bottle. ] There’s privacy enough, but, if we’re too immoderate in volume, we may drive the neighbors to jealousy.
[ He’s stalling with such clever little remarks, just a bit, though there’s real content there. They can speak freely enough as long as they don’t get too loud. ]
no subject
He locks the door behind him, offering a somewhat lopsided smirk to the man before he crosses the room over to his bed to sit and fetch up the whiskey bottle. ] There’s privacy enough, but, if we’re too immoderate in volume, we may drive the neighbors to jealousy.
[ He’s stalling with such clever little remarks, just a bit, though there’s real content there. They can speak freely enough as long as they don’t get too loud. ]