Arena
"You did leave a good portion of meat over the fire." You tell him with a slight smirk curling at the corner of your mouth.
He laughs a bit with his hands on his side and then takes a deep breath before going about collecting the stack he had dropped. "Yes, well," He says as he gathers the bits of wood. "I needed more wood to last through the night. I figured if I started a fire and left it cookin', the rabbit would be done by the time I got back."
He has the stack of wood in his hands as he walks toward the fire. "I didn' take theives into account."
He says it politely enough, and walks over the far side of the fire to set the pile down. As he does so, he calls over his shoulder; "Don't go shooting at me now. We can both share the rabbit."
The glare of the fire blinds you from effectively seeing him as more of a shadow on the other side the blaze. Your hands go to your daggers, not sure what to expect when he come around the fire dusting wood chips from his hands.
He is in his early thirties and has a kind look to his face. His body is stacked in muscle, looking like someone who has spent a lot of time in a gym fine tuning those... Or perhaps a prison?
His face makes you want to forget that there are murderous villians running around through this atmospheric arena.
"'Names Brooke," he says with an out stretched hand.
He laughs a bit with his hands on his side and then takes a deep breath before going about collecting the stack he had dropped. "Yes, well," He says as he gathers the bits of wood. "I needed more wood to last through the night. I figured if I started a fire and left it cookin', the rabbit would be done by the time I got back."
He has the stack of wood in his hands as he walks toward the fire. "I didn' take theives into account."
He says it politely enough, and walks over the far side of the fire to set the pile down. As he does so, he calls over his shoulder; "Don't go shooting at me now. We can both share the rabbit."
The glare of the fire blinds you from effectively seeing him as more of a shadow on the other side the blaze. Your hands go to your daggers, not sure what to expect when he come around the fire dusting wood chips from his hands.
He is in his early thirties and has a kind look to his face. His body is stacked in muscle, looking like someone who has spent a lot of time in a gym fine tuning those... Or perhaps a prison?
His face makes you want to forget that there are murderous villians running around through this atmospheric arena.
"'Names Brooke," he says with an out stretched hand.