[What snippets she can catch beneath his usual veneer is best described, strangely, as... discomfort. Beyond that, it is hard to parse further specifics. He's too practiced in smoothing down those little cracks, only letting them exist in moments barely-perceptible. As they walk, the majority of his demeanor is enveloped with ease, and only bolstered doubly so by her own.]
Exactly that. It's not a car. It's a motorcycle.
[Said with faux aplomb, as well as a hand lifted with waggling fingers, as though this should be at all impressive to her. For Verso, it's neutral — he neither loves it nor hates it, even if he's realized he's chosen one of the more dangerous ways to get around.]
I have it parked somewhere down this road.
[And he leads her down said road, lined and lined and lined with cars parked along the side. It's one blessing, having obtained a smaller vehicle; parking is not as hellish.]
no subject
Exactly that. It's not a car. It's a motorcycle.
[Said with faux aplomb, as well as a hand lifted with waggling fingers, as though this should be at all impressive to her. For Verso, it's neutral — he neither loves it nor hates it, even if he's realized he's chosen one of the more dangerous ways to get around.]
I have it parked somewhere down this road.
[And he leads her down said road, lined and lined and lined with cars parked along the side. It's one blessing, having obtained a smaller vehicle; parking is not as hellish.]
How long have you been here, Sciel?