Harrowheart frowns. Deeply. A grumbly rumble starts in his chest as he grapples with the weight of his conundrum. For the most part he stares at the ground or other scenery, but now and then he catches sight of Isidor: sweet, friendly, probably doesn't know the meaning of the words 'ulterior motive.'
Hrrrnnnngh. He can hear his mother's voice scolding him for his poor manners. What kind of vulture would begrudge another person knowledge just because they couldn't pay? On the other hand, he really does like stuff. And Earth stuff is the best kind of stuff! Nobody seems to want to take him to the planet, and only Verity has offered him anything in the way of souvenirs. If he's a pushover now, they'll never respect him enough to trade him the good stuff in the future. But if he's too stingy, he might make an enemy...
He turns his worried frown on Viatorus. But somehow, the sight of that weak-willed, cowardly little nerd doesn't spark the same desire to push him into a locker as before. He's just a young man, practically still a kid. He's scared, and he's normal, and for some reason – Light knows why – he's the one in the family who does the magic.
A final, frustrated growl escapes Harrow's throat. His shoulders go slack as he sighs a heavy breath. "Arrite," he grumbles. "I won't make ya pay to teach Viatorus. But. He has to take it seriously. And he gets his own private lessons. Not with Steve and Verity. I don't think I could wrangle three people all at once anyhow."
I'm gonna need a 'profuse sweating' icon at the rate my rp goes lately
Hrrrnnnngh. He can hear his mother's voice scolding him for his poor manners. What kind of vulture would begrudge another person knowledge just because they couldn't pay? On the other hand, he really does like stuff. And Earth stuff is the best kind of stuff! Nobody seems to want to take him to the planet, and only Verity has offered him anything in the way of souvenirs. If he's a pushover now, they'll never respect him enough to trade him the good stuff in the future. But if he's too stingy, he might make an enemy...
He turns his worried frown on Viatorus. But somehow, the sight of that weak-willed, cowardly little nerd doesn't spark the same desire to push him into a locker as before. He's just a young man, practically still a kid. He's scared, and he's normal, and for some reason – Light knows why – he's the one in the family who does the magic.
A final, frustrated growl escapes Harrow's throat. His shoulders go slack as he sighs a heavy breath. "Arrite," he grumbles. "I won't make ya pay to teach Viatorus. But. He has to take it seriously. And he gets his own private lessons. Not with Steve and Verity. I don't think I could wrangle three people all at once anyhow."