| You ease the kitchen door open a fraction. You see Draven talking to the smaller cloaked man. "That was stupid, Spider," Draven is busy saying in his low rumble. There's a note of warning beneath the otherwise fondly warm tones. Could this be his son? Probably not. A full blooded Slysk can not come from a fully human man. "Don't worry about me so much, Draven, I'm fine," the Slysk man replies, chewing idly on some edible green he pilfered from the still silent cook. "For all they know, I'm as dead as my old man." "You shouldn't make so light of the situation, Spider. I worry about you." Draven sits upon a stool that's almost comically too small for his large frame. Spider gives a short laugh and leans agaisnt the edge of the stove, pulling back quickly only after finding out it's still hot. He brushes at the wool of his cloak where it had touched the stove. "I've survived for this long, Draven. I think I can survive at least a bit longer." There's a bit of an edge to the small man's voice. "You wouldn't have survived your last run in with the Cats if it hadn't been for me, Spider!" Draven snaps back, getting to his feet to loom over the unimpressed smaller man. "Oh, shove it, Draven. I'll go back downstairs." "And you better stay down there until I'm sure the coat is clear, you get that?" Spider snorted. "I hear you, I hear you." You ease the door shut and hear another door from within slam. |