Oh, barely. [For awhile, Lancer went silent. He didn't fancy himself much a conversationalist when he was angry--or, rather close to it. His hand traced Merida's palm with his fingertips curled lightly against her.
When he thought of something, it was sudden and absolutely unannounced.]
no subject
When he thought of something, it was sudden and absolutely unannounced.]
He steals whiskey, you know.