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2015-10-03 02:23 pm (UTC)
Luvander snorts, amused, and glances sideways as if trying to read Liir's expression a bit better. "Really? You amaze me. I'm assuming that you mean disregarding the fact that it looks like a splendid way to get knocked on your ass."
He pulls up his legs, looping his arms around them loosely and leaning his chin on his knees. "The real Cassiopeia made art with pressed flowers. The real Jeannot adopted a baby bird and let it sleep next to him on his pillow. Anastasia cried every time Bambi's mother died. Evariste ate a pound of butter on a dare - and I refused to heal him when he was miserable afterwards." He makes a small face, watching Dorothy pout seductively at some kind of guard before hauling out a gun from her cleavage. "No one makes a good Dragon, really." A small grin. "Except maybe Rook and Havemercy."
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