[ The vines on the floor retreat, melting away into the red fog, retreating seemingly into nothingness. Yet the malignancy in the air doesn't fade - though it's not entirely of evil, more akin to a curse. ]
There are exceptions to every rule. [ Really, he doesn't understand much himself - but a job is a job. ] What now, Master?
[ His voice is quiet, unemotive - but not as cold as his flat expression might suggest. ]
no subject
There are exceptions to every rule. [ Really, he doesn't understand much himself - but a job is a job. ] What now, Master?
[ His voice is quiet, unemotive - but not as cold as his flat expression might suggest. ]