[His nose wrinkles at sweet thing, and under different circumstances this would be the point in which he'd aim a kick at Figaro. (These circumstances would entail less blood drinking, for starters. Also knowing him as Sampo and not as Figaro. And also, a less effective bribe. These are not those circumstanes, so Figaro's shin remains un-kicked.)
Gepard does roll his eyes, though. It's hard to be annoyed - he's got delicious food, but by gosh is he trying.]
You're right, I should savor it...
[...is he bold enough for this? Is he?]
...babe. [Immediate regrets! His ears flush red! As does his cheeks! Why did he say that? He buries himself in a delicious fucking sandwich, which isn't hard, eating...slower, because someone actually made food for him and he didn- well, he's going to pay for it, but later. Mumble mumble, chomp, chew, swallow.]
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Gepard does roll his eyes, though. It's hard to be annoyed - he's got delicious food, but by gosh is he trying.]
You're right, I should savor it...
[...is he bold enough for this? Is he?]
...babe. [Immediate regrets! His ears flush red! As does his cheeks! Why did he say that? He buries himself in a delicious fucking sandwich, which isn't hard, eating...slower, because someone actually made food for him and he didn- well, he's going to pay for it, but later. Mumble mumble, chomp, chew, swallow.]