[That pulls a little more of his attention, his curiosity. He exhales a sweet cloud out the window of their suite, watching the curls of smoke spin and dissipate into the early evening air.
Curls of a triskelion of Air, carved in white, blossoming red.
He should call Grayson again, see if he can finally get him to pick up during the day. After this, maybe.]
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Curls of a triskelion of Air, carved in white, blossoming red.
He should call Grayson again, see if he can finally get him to pick up during the day. After this, maybe.]
Okay, why?