[They don't have direwolves in Cloudbank, and there's precedent for Boxer being willing to befriend monster dogs, so hell if I'm not gonna milk it. Lucky for the hard-light facsimile of his fingers, Lady puts up with it. Judges him worthy of ear scratching, what an honor. He stops short of anything too familiar—might be pushing his luck, and they've got places to be—but he'll take advantage of Lady's indulgence until Sansa speaks up. Takes that as cue to brace himself against the ground with the Transistor and pull back up to stand at his full height. Amiably—]
Sure. Could stretch my legs a little.
[There's a hint of irony in it, but he stops short of explaining the joke. For now, he stops short of telling her that there's something she maybe ought to know about how strictly alive he actually is. (Though maybe Lady would have a better sense that something is off, since the odd proxy of himself that the Transistor renders for him is barely more than temporary smoke and mirrors, light and sound.) But he's mostly sure they can be there and back before he has to worry about running out of steam. And he'd like to keep it close to the chest in regard to Nysa at large while he can.]
no subject
Sure. Could stretch my legs a little.
[There's a hint of irony in it, but he stops short of explaining the joke. For now, he stops short of telling her that there's something she maybe ought to know about how strictly alive he actually is. (Though maybe Lady would have a better sense that something is off, since the odd proxy of himself that the Transistor renders for him is barely more than temporary smoke and mirrors, light and sound.) But he's mostly sure they can be there and back before he has to worry about running out of steam. And he'd like to keep it close to the chest in regard to Nysa at large while he can.]
Not imposing, am I?