Too much in the Quad is dictated by status, by those who profit from the law which abets them. [ Translation? Heard loud and clear, and perhaps as much is evident in the way the Director gives pause—profound and just a touch too knowing—to glance back at Saber in quiet study, the playful levity gone from his voice, though its warmth very much remains: ] That you should have found your change of pace, your own path to walk with the RAC...
[ And forward again! Tally ho, sally forth! ♫
Come what may, Sion is confident in his own ability to see both himself and his escort to the boutique unscathed. Truth be told, it is the Director who finds trouble more often than not, so if he should remain undistracted and wholly given to the task at hand, Saber's workload will surely be an easy one! They are not in the vast reaches of space where their vessel might receive some foreign distress signal (which Sion would most assuredly be compelled to answer!), nor are they on Westerley where the Director is wont to delay his patrols in favor of offering the people of Old Town aid (and subsequently leaving himself vulnerable to any would-be assailants), and so...!
He focuses on Saber alone, offering her a smile and simple, truehearted words: ] ...I am glad.
[ With her, he speaks freely, content with the fact that their conversation will go unheard, that his words will be lost somewhere amid the hubbub of the marketplace (but hopefully not upon Saber's own ears)— ]
Everyone should have the right to spend their days as they should please, even if that pleasure should be something so simple as a lazy, afternoon nap.
[ They should be nearing the establishment now, he thinks, and ah, there it is, a quaint building with a most charming window display boasting both men's and women's fashions from evening wear to more casual clothing, some styles certainly more eye-catching than others. ]
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[ And forward again! Tally ho, sally forth! ♫
Come what may, Sion is confident in his own ability to see both himself and his escort to the boutique unscathed. Truth be told, it is the Director who finds trouble more often than not, so if he should remain undistracted and wholly given to the task at hand, Saber's workload will surely be an easy one! They are not in the vast reaches of space where their vessel might receive some foreign distress signal (which Sion would most assuredly be compelled to answer!), nor are they on Westerley where the Director is wont to delay his patrols in favor of offering the people of Old Town aid (and subsequently leaving himself vulnerable to any would-be assailants), and so...!
He focuses on Saber alone, offering her a smile and simple, truehearted words: ] ...I am glad.
[ With her, he speaks freely, content with the fact that their conversation will go unheard, that his words will be lost somewhere amid the hubbub of the marketplace (but hopefully not upon Saber's own ears)— ]
Everyone should have the right to spend their days as they should please, even if that pleasure should be something so simple as a lazy, afternoon nap.
[ They should be nearing the establishment now, he thinks, and ah, there it is, a quaint building with a most charming window display boasting both men's and women's fashions from evening wear to more casual clothing, some styles certainly more eye-catching than others. ]
Do you not agree?