Post by Terminally Chill on Jun 15, 2011 17:44:34 GMT -5
Gavin kept in toe with his two comrades of varying age, his run disturbed for a moment as his slim figure dodged to the opposite side Jun had taken to avoid trampling the nocturnal maiden that had appeared in their path. The musician scratched at his shaggy locks as he listened to the tale the scribe was spinning. Simply finding the sword laying there with no sign of Blanc was not exactly what Gavin had expected; where had the pale-haired entrepreneur gone to? Regardless of the methods that the beautiful brand had been recovered, there was comfort that the trio had made it out of the flaming foyer with prize in hand. Even though the rest of the story was unexpected, it was undoubtedly exciting to a certain apprentice smith.
“Fighting the marines, setting mansions on fire and jumping from rooftops...! Wait 'til Mr. Tenk hears about it!”
“Hey man, Jun is the one who set the mansion on fire and jumped from the roof–”
"We're here, come on! Get inside!"
Even though his protests against Dayton's skewed view of the windward duo had been interrupted, the open door to the familiar smithy shop was a sight for sore eyes. Although it did not have the best company, any type of haven was welcome to the guitarist. With one last burst of energy, Gavin dashed into the doorway with Jun and Dayton, his injuries getting the best of him for a moment and causing him to tumble clumsily into the house of hammer and forge. Unlike the first time Gavin had taken in a fall in the shop, the weapons Tenk slaved over stayed safe in their racks and on the wall. With the door slamming behind them and ensuring the trio's safety for at least long enough to take a breath, the stray songsmith let out a groan and propped himself against a nearby rack of assorted weapons.
“Hah... All three of ya are still alive. Didn't see that comin', I will admit...”
The minstrel had no expected any other type of welcome from the crusty blacksmith, but even the presence of Mr. Tenk was preferred to black-haired bounty hunters and blade-wielding brigades.
“... So what did I say I've give ya for a job well done? Figure you two came close enough!”
Knowing that the grizzled metalworker would not be one for “hello,” Gavin figured that any offer of food or medical treatment after such a grueling conflict, for the sake of the ornery old man mind you, was also a stretch. After all, Mr. Tenk was a businessman, so business came first.
... At least it wasn't an insult, right?
“I dunno man,” Gavin said, managing to get out the sentence between labored breaths. “I think you said you'd tell me what you know about my guitar.” The musician pointed to his back, in case Tenk needed a refresher on what bargain had been struck. Though, it was debatable if Gavin was really in the mood for story time with his wounds still as freshly painful as when they had first been dealt.
“Fighting the marines, setting mansions on fire and jumping from rooftops...! Wait 'til Mr. Tenk hears about it!”
“Hey man, Jun is the one who set the mansion on fire and jumped from the roof–”
"We're here, come on! Get inside!"
Even though his protests against Dayton's skewed view of the windward duo had been interrupted, the open door to the familiar smithy shop was a sight for sore eyes. Although it did not have the best company, any type of haven was welcome to the guitarist. With one last burst of energy, Gavin dashed into the doorway with Jun and Dayton, his injuries getting the best of him for a moment and causing him to tumble clumsily into the house of hammer and forge. Unlike the first time Gavin had taken in a fall in the shop, the weapons Tenk slaved over stayed safe in their racks and on the wall. With the door slamming behind them and ensuring the trio's safety for at least long enough to take a breath, the stray songsmith let out a groan and propped himself against a nearby rack of assorted weapons.
“Hah... All three of ya are still alive. Didn't see that comin', I will admit...”
The minstrel had no expected any other type of welcome from the crusty blacksmith, but even the presence of Mr. Tenk was preferred to black-haired bounty hunters and blade-wielding brigades.
“... So what did I say I've give ya for a job well done? Figure you two came close enough!”
Knowing that the grizzled metalworker would not be one for “hello,” Gavin figured that any offer of food or medical treatment after such a grueling conflict, for the sake of the ornery old man mind you, was also a stretch. After all, Mr. Tenk was a businessman, so business came first.
... At least it wasn't an insult, right?
“I dunno man,” Gavin said, managing to get out the sentence between labored breaths. “I think you said you'd tell me what you know about my guitar.” The musician pointed to his back, in case Tenk needed a refresher on what bargain had been struck. Though, it was debatable if Gavin was really in the mood for story time with his wounds still as freshly painful as when they had first been dealt.