[Just as Dualscar has to put on his armor, Psii has to put on his own clothes once again as well. For a moment afterwards, however, it's tempting to just not leave- to stay inside this stupid pretentious little office space until Dualscar comes back to get him the hell out.]
[It's a dumb desire. He knows it is. There will be questions, likely, if he stays away for too long. There's also a chance that another highblood will wander in and try to seize any chance they see. The taste of acid is on the back of his tongue as he thinks it and it's enough for him to leave a few minutes after Dualscar. His bad luck is shit as it is. He won't court it further.]
[The other slaves glance at him from the corner of their eyes as he joins them, and it doesn't take long enough to figure out they're taking in various parts of him- the flush still spread out across his ears and down along his throat, sweat against the side of his face still new, his ruffled state of clothing. He tries to straighten out his clothing like that will do anything... But he finds himself unable to be too worried, not at the understanding nods or sympathetic elbow brushes.]
[They're all thinking of the Orphaner's reputation, after all.]
[Funnily enough, a protection enough in such moments as much as the sign pinned to his chest. He can only hope it carries him through the rest of the party.]
no subject
[It's a dumb desire. He knows it is. There will be questions, likely, if he stays away for too long. There's also a chance that another highblood will wander in and try to seize any chance they see. The taste of acid is on the back of his tongue as he thinks it and it's enough for him to leave a few minutes after Dualscar. His bad luck is shit as it is. He won't court it further.]
[The other slaves glance at him from the corner of their eyes as he joins them, and it doesn't take long enough to figure out they're taking in various parts of him- the flush still spread out across his ears and down along his throat, sweat against the side of his face still new, his ruffled state of clothing. He tries to straighten out his clothing like that will do anything... But he finds himself unable to be too worried, not at the understanding nods or sympathetic elbow brushes.]
[They're all thinking of the Orphaner's reputation, after all.]
[Funnily enough, a protection enough in such moments as much as the sign pinned to his chest. He can only hope it carries him through the rest of the party.]