[ The Director, of course, knows the precise connotation of that word (tone and all), having been guilty of using it in place of wounded many a time before (and as late as this morning).
As such, it is only natural that the playful air about him tempers into something else—something gentle and understanding, apologetic in the way he bridges the distance between them with care, extending a hand (fingertips which will, uncannily, brush lightly against Saber's shoulder unless the touch should be pushed away) in silent question.
Saber... where are you hurt? ]
Another time will be for the best. [ —he assents, though the dress is boxed, given readily as a parting gift.
Saber just may approve of the Director's next decision: appointing himself to the position of "bag carrier and box holder", if only because he entrusts something far more practical to his guard for safekeeping: Company technology, typically reserved for certified medics or simply those with enough joy to spend. To Saber, a former Enforcer, the tool may be easily recognized as an optogen actuator, the device prompting immediate healing through light-based cellular stimulation.
This, perhaps, is by far more beneficial a token than any manner of garment, especially for a Reclamation Agent bold enough to take on a warrant while in less than optimal condition.
Consider it a "thank you" for putting up with this small excursion. ]
Will you do the honor of calling upon me, then, in this future where we walk the streets of the bazaar at our leisure? [ With a soft hum upon his lips, he sets to gathering their things: the dress box, the uniform which he'd all too readily discarded. ] Where you are able to take tea—
no subject
[ The Director, of course, knows the precise connotation of that word (tone and all), having been guilty of using it in place of wounded many a time before (and as late as this morning).
As such, it is only natural that the playful air about him tempers into something else—something gentle and understanding, apologetic in the way he bridges the distance between them with care, extending a hand (fingertips which will, uncannily, brush lightly against Saber's shoulder unless the touch should be pushed away) in silent question.
Saber... where are you hurt? ]
Another time will be for the best. [ —he assents, though the dress is boxed, given readily as a parting gift.
Saber just may approve of the Director's next decision: appointing himself to the position of "bag carrier and box holder", if only because he entrusts something far more practical to his guard for safekeeping: Company technology, typically reserved for certified medics or simply those with enough joy to spend. To Saber, a former Enforcer, the tool may be easily recognized as an optogen actuator, the device prompting immediate healing through light-based cellular stimulation.
This, perhaps, is by far more beneficial a token than any manner of garment, especially for a Reclamation Agent bold enough to take on a warrant while in less than optimal condition.
Consider it a "thank you" for putting up with this small excursion. ]
Will you do the honor of calling upon me, then, in this future where we walk the streets of the bazaar at our leisure? [ With a soft hum upon his lips, he sets to gathering their things: the dress box, the uniform which he'd all too readily discarded. ] Where you are able to take tea—
[ That cup is still full, isn't it, Saber? ]
—and we've the time to trade stories?