Kristoff's eyes dart briefly to Vincent's shifting sleeve "I hope you at least put a comfrey poultice or equivalent on that wrist."
Kristoff listens to the last part, processes, and slowly closes his eyes. After a moment, there's a nealry inaudible murmur, in Romany, of "Master, you magnificent bastard, how could that be worth it?"
He looks away as he safely takes the bishop. It's a good position for his queen, but not as good as it might have been.
(Read comments)
Post a comment in response:
scribbld is part of the horse.13 network
Design by Jimmy B.
Logo created by 
hitsuzen.
Scribbld System Status
