[Speak for yourself, some of us are rampantly bi.]
Mmm? Oh.
[After a moment he stands up in the pool, long enough to let Astolfo see the whole thing - eleven crows flying from a series of cracks over his heart, all in black ink.
Then he settles back down again.]
Nine for silver, ten for gold; eleven for a secret that will never be told. An old rhyme I was always rather attached to.
no subject
Speak for yourself, some of us are rampantly bi.]Mmm? Oh.
[After a moment he stands up in the pool, long enough to let Astolfo see the whole thing - eleven crows flying from a series of cracks over his heart, all in black ink.
Then he settles back down again.]
Nine for silver, ten for gold; eleven for a secret that will never be told. An old rhyme I was always rather attached to.