[ hello sweet tara. scratch is probably somewhere. we keep forgetting our scratch. sadly both his legs are injured, but one less than the other so she can paw at that one. ]

"Dear Karlach -- a fucking rock--"

[ imagine. ]

Yes, well. I won. She didn't. She shouldn't have had a crown or any accolaides, they were mine. [ that's not explaining ANYTHING.

absently, he's shifting to take hold of gale's hand and idly turning it back and forth, fingers touching his pulse point and pressing their fingertips together almost absently. ]