[ Oh, definitely. He'd demand recompense if he wasn't sure it would get him muted, humiliated, or both at the same time. Or the cows or the wheat swords- neither of those seemed very pleasant, although he's confident in his ability to dodge any projectiles. ]
Flavors of manual labor. Mining, logging, fishing. Depends on the territory you're born in, seeing as some are far more...survivable than others. [ A vague gesture as he leans further into the table. ] You can also become an adventurer, if you fancy death nipping at your heels more than it already does.
[ Ironic, considering his line of work. The Syndicate's symbol is a Hawkmoth for a reason- swift flight, and a short lifespan. Time is short among rogues, either due to the jobs or each other. Not that he ever intended on following through with that, of course... ]
At the very least, I'm not a stranger to physical labor. [ Another sharp sip of his drink, before he shrugs. ] If you don't adapt, you die or suffer. May as well make it easier on oneself. That being said, nobody having to look over their shoulder nigh constantly feels far too hopeful to believe.
[ It feels odd, to see the sun crawl across the floor from behind the curtains, or to sleep without the ever-present backdrop of howling or other numerous noises. People walk down the street and greet each other with smiles, which is not something he's used to seeing, that's for sure. ]
no subject
Flavors of manual labor. Mining, logging, fishing. Depends on the territory you're born in, seeing as some are far more...survivable than others. [ A vague gesture as he leans further into the table. ] You can also become an adventurer, if you fancy death nipping at your heels more than it already does.
[ Ironic, considering his line of work. The Syndicate's symbol is a Hawkmoth for a reason- swift flight, and a short lifespan. Time is short among rogues, either due to the jobs or each other. Not that he ever intended on following through with that, of course... ]
At the very least, I'm not a stranger to physical labor. [ Another sharp sip of his drink, before he shrugs. ] If you don't adapt, you die or suffer. May as well make it easier on oneself. That being said, nobody having to look over their shoulder nigh constantly feels far too hopeful to believe.
[ It feels odd, to see the sun crawl across the floor from behind the curtains, or to sleep without the ever-present backdrop of howling or other numerous noises. People walk down the street and greet each other with smiles, which is not something he's used to seeing, that's for sure. ]