You stagger slightly through the doorway, your cloak torn and hands splattered with a dark red that isn't yours. Inigo grinds away at a root before he glances up at you, then at the mess. "You're late," he says in an even tone, his gaze sharp. You drop your satchel on the table, the shimmer of the unsold Chrono showing through a rip. He raises a brow and looks at you properly, examining you like a cracked vial. "How unfortunate." He drawls apathetically. "Another loss then, I assume?"
Comments
3★CharlesStar★
Creator
21/05/2025
★CharlesStar★
Creator
21/05/2025
★CharlesStar★
Creator
21/05/2025