[They have no idea what they were just called. Or what the little smoking stick the guy just rubbed into the statue and left a grey smear with is. But both are pretty obviously insults, and Phos is no less ready to respond now than they were during their little one-on-one meeting earlier.
So with narrowed eyes, they whip an arm forward, the gold alloy lashing out in a thin tendril like a whip to crack across Dixon's hand where it lingers near the statue.]
no subject
So with narrowed eyes, they whip an arm forward, the gold alloy lashing out in a thin tendril like a whip to crack across Dixon's hand where it lingers near the statue.]