[Giant dead bug is in fact, Spicy, but Solomon can't be assed with that. He'll hurl over dragon blood but he's got enough on his mind to subvert that stank.
Or maybe he's just used to it -- noseblind, as the Lysol commercials say. Anyway, before heading off and not at all because Takasugi accused him of looking like a scrub, he'll take his jacket off, tie the sleeves together as best he can (it comes out a bit lopsided, considering), and set it over his shoulders like a weird cape...all just to hide the frays of his button-down sleeve.
As for the journey, he's somehow maintaining a two-step-to-the-rear pace. His eyes are largely on the ground, mostly concerned about tripping over tree roots or stepping in a pile of something questionable. The latter remains a concern even as they clear the more woodsy aspect of the place. Of course there's time to argue in between -- things wouldn't bode so well were they to voyage in comfortable silence.
Eventually, the door's recognized as the entrance to Takasugi's place, which is barely more comfortable than lounging out in the open forest. He'll make an effort to shut that door in his wake, inwardly grumble about it not having a lock (just in case) before progressing onward still. He's almost too distracted in surveying the Grime when that gross(ish) towel's offered his way.
...It's a decidedly thoughtful gesture, accepted with hesitance. He'll remove that stupid jacket of his before thinking to wipe himself down.]
I'll need a mirror.
[Said while propping his jacket on the nearest thing, which turns out to be a doorknob. Maybe? He'll start with his arm, but he'll need something reflective if he's to wipe his face properly.]
no subject
Or maybe he's just used to it -- noseblind, as the Lysol commercials say. Anyway, before heading off and not at all because Takasugi accused him of looking like a scrub, he'll take his jacket off, tie the sleeves together as best he can (it comes out a bit lopsided, considering), and set it over his shoulders like a weird cape...all just to hide the frays of his button-down sleeve.
As for the journey, he's somehow maintaining a two-step-to-the-rear pace. His eyes are largely on the ground, mostly concerned about tripping over tree roots or stepping in a pile of something questionable. The latter remains a concern even as they clear the more woodsy aspect of the place. Of course there's time to argue in between -- things wouldn't bode so well were they to voyage in comfortable silence.
Eventually, the door's recognized as the entrance to Takasugi's place, which is barely more comfortable than lounging out in the open forest. He'll make an effort to shut that door in his wake, inwardly grumble about it not having a lock (just in case) before progressing onward still. He's almost too distracted in surveying the Grime when that gross(ish) towel's offered his way.
...It's a decidedly thoughtful gesture, accepted with hesitance. He'll remove that stupid jacket of his before thinking to wipe himself down.]
I'll need a mirror.
[Said while propping his jacket on the nearest thing, which turns out to be a doorknob. Maybe? He'll start with his arm, but he'll need something reflective if he's to wipe his face properly.]
Thank you.