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- Damned horns – booed Vatnir, when first drops of yet another Deadfire's rain had hit the ground and others quickly pulled their caps on.
He heard soft, female chuckle behind him. Large hand in leather glove caught one of his larger horns by it's root. Godlike was turned around and picked up by it, so only his toes were touching the ground.
- They have their... benefits – Brenice whispered in low voice and grinned, while her second hand moved down man's overexposed throat. Elf looked up on the almost feet taller warrior and flushed, while catching her breastplate for support.
- Come. Let's find us some shelter – she gently put him down and moved away. The intimate moment was over and the priest, still red under his mask, trotted behind the Watcher, deaf on the comments of others.
This treatment was as far from reverence at Dead Float as it was possible – and he wouldn't want to be anywhere else.