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[le_desirous]

As far as Sagramore is concerned, this weather should be illegal. Of course it's typical April weather, achingly hot one moment and cold rain the next, but the achingly hot periods are too often and too early for him, and it's irritating. So he's dressed in the bare minimum, having given up all pretext of wearing time-period-appropriate clothing,

Comments

[thistledownking]

Did Sagramore's body language request a breeze? Here, Sagramore. Have a breeze.

[le_desirous]

Oh, okay, that's better. He closes his eyes appreciatively.

[thistledownking]

You like that? Have a harder breeze. One that will definitely ruffle your hair and stir the surface of your coffee a bit.

[le_desirous]

Seriously? That is awesome. That is the kind of weather he can get behind. He proves himself agreeable with a small sigh, and actually straightens up a little and drinks some of his coffee.

[sirbeaumains]

Gareth approaches, half hesitantly. "--Sir Sagramore?"

[le_desirous]

He looks up and smiles slightly. "Sir Gareth?"

[sirbeaumains]

"--how're you?"

[le_desirous]

"Oh, well enough."

[all_that_grace]

Eventually Courfeyrac wanders out, with his sleeves rolled up to the elbow in what passes with him for wild abandon, and smiles when he spots Sagramore. "Good afternoon."

[le_desirous]

Sagramore sighs and smiles. "Helyes. Good afternoon."

[all_that_grace]

"Am I intruding?"

[le_desirous]

"No, absolutely never."

[notsincecarrie]

*walks by, fanning himself* Hot enough for you?

[le_desirous]

Sagramore makes a face and swears in Hungarian. "I despise it."

[notsincecarrie]

*nods* The Great Outdoors could use some air conditioning.

[le_desirous]

"Could use which?" opening his eyes to look inquisitively at Buzz.