A mob marches to their feet
05-09-2014, 09:14 PM
"So they call you Sinclair, boy?" Tattered lips would spread once more in a smug grin, before they would return to a more interested expression, his lime gaze watching the male's own gaze. "Call me Sverige, Sverige Archangelo, mister Sinclair." The grey fellow did seem interested in the rusty brujo indeed, a good sign of his plans working. "How are you doing, sir?" The rusty brujo would show no signs of aggression, fully relaxed and content, hopefully allowing the larger grey man to do so as well. "Speech" |