"I have no remote drones available for this task. Of course… there is you."
Silas scratched at the back of her neck dubiously, brows lain in a flat line.
"Look, if Qizzer’s been spreading that rot about me being a tail chaser again, or something, I swear you’ve got the wrong gal. Mind you, I think you’re uh. Cute? And all that, but I just don’t reckon it would work."
There was a brief pause, then:
"How DO you court Aurin, anyways? You all have some ritual or something?"
She stared uncomprehendingly at the much taller man, hands having clamped over her ears at the initial roar that took to the air.
Unfortunately, Silas was too late in her efforts. Several motions of cupping and uncupping her hands over her ears followed, before she dug a pinkytip into one, straightening. If anything, she looked incredibly vexed and lost.
Shit. She couldn’t hear anything.
"DAMNIT GAIUS. IT’S RUDE TO MOUTH WORDS ALL SILENT LIKE AT PEOPLE. SPEAK UP."
"… WHY ARE YOU LOOKIN’ AT ME LIKE THAT?"
Silas stared long and hard at the man, expression a blank as no doubt the statement tried to fit into the cogs working along in the churn of her mind.
Eventually, there was a slight squinch in her right, lower eyelid, the Judge shifting jerkily to the right, arms folded over her chest.
"I don’t think this is what they meant with you trying to get me to be more personable…"
He was waiting, it seemed.
Waiting for her best attempt at seduction.
Another stiff fidget, and something horrible cracked along the Judge’s face: the attempt of a smile.
Somewhere, a baby rowsdower bleated its distress.
"You… uh… you… come here… often?"