[Syrlya is used to seeing his own face. Perhaps it's the nature of being a Mesmer that requires enough vanity to always look deeply at yourself. The direction is odd, the expression is as blank as his clones often are.
And then an awkward pleasure roils through him and oh, wait, okay that part isn't normal at all--
He jumps back, trying to shake his senses as he puts distance to the clone.] Um--what?
no subject
And then an awkward pleasure roils through him and oh, wait, okay that part isn't normal at all--
He jumps back, trying to shake his senses as he puts distance to the clone.] Um--what?