Mm, I tried that. Adults don't really listen, though. Do they?
[ Yuca keeps his eyes large, his brows knit in the middle; the picture of sheltered childhood, even as his fingers tighten around the glass. ( He wants to throw it in someone's face, glass and all. If only that wasn't a waste of effort and energy, of which his small form has so limited reserves. )
The cigar ought to smell, but his nose stopped working centuries ago — his palate soon after. It's acrid enough that he feels his eyes water and nose burn, but if there is discomfort from a smell... he simply doesn't reflect that. Odd. ]
Nobody really listens, that woman especially.
[ He nods his head in a direction; the spark of his mind suggesting, quite easily, that he means Yima. ]
no subject
[ Yuca keeps his eyes large, his brows knit in the middle; the picture of sheltered childhood, even as his fingers tighten around the glass. ( He wants to throw it in someone's face, glass and all. If only that wasn't a waste of effort and energy, of which his small form has so limited reserves. )
The cigar ought to smell, but his nose stopped working centuries ago — his palate soon after. It's acrid enough that he feels his eyes water and nose burn, but if there is discomfort from a smell... he simply doesn't reflect that. Odd. ]
Nobody really listens, that woman especially.
[ He nods his head in a direction; the spark of his mind suggesting, quite easily, that he means Yima. ]