At The Gatehouse

[*Fell Star]

Aerjoona's was a thankless job, too rife with the toil of scrubbing excrement from walls, enduring abuses by sadistic patients, and contemplating the sweet mercy of death. He watched, as Khasef brushed past to attend other duties, then focused on the cart..squeak, squeak, squeak...as he circuited the corridor into Raifael's chamber.

"Eya, Amir." He would recognize that mop of inky, elven hair anywhere. "What brings you all dee way out ta dees lee'l corner ov' paradise?" The sound of his voice was flat and depressive, despite his colorful Cajun accent, and just to punctuate the statement, Aerjoona snapped back the hems of his rubber-like gloves.

[*Grisome]

"You honestly think that's going to work? That it's going to be that easy?" He looked around the cell, rubbing the back of his neck. "I can just go?"

[*TheFrozenWind]

"I never said easy. Nor did I say you'd leave so quickly. It'd merely.. Hasten things."

[*Grisome]

He sank back against the wall again, disappointed. Perhaps he'd genuinely thought he'd be able to get up and walk out, right then and there. "Then go hasten things. Now." He gestured towards the door of the cell impatiently.

[*TheFrozenWind]

"So demanding. There is a price. Y'know."

[*Grisome]

"So stop stalling, name it, and let's get this over with. Preferably before I undergo too much 'treatment' from you people."

[*TheFrozenWind]

"Your attitude is causing me to second guess."

[*Grisome]

"...I'm sorry I'm not as courteous as you may like. However, I just spent the better part of I don't even know how long suffering from I don't even know what. ...Get over it."

[*TheFrozenWind]

"Oh bother.. The time.. I'm late. Lady's Grace."
Khasef departs.

[*Grisome]

"...Late?" As if it were a foreign word that he couldn't even begin to comprehend the meaning of. He watches in disbelief as the annoying man departed, unsure whether to take it as a sign that he was going to get to work, or abandoning the idea of helping him.