A little unsettled by the reaction caused by what he thought was a pretty innocuous comment about the gift he'd been given, Schilva plays along warily, not quite able to hide the uncertain furrowing of his brows as
@Frey Elzeiros starts laughing way harder than warranted. Was this some kind of in-joke thing? A reference he wasn't aware of?
The confusion continues when his comedic skill is praised which was nice and all, but totally lacked any context...at least, until Frey took the bottle of pungent stuff off his hands and
drank out of it.
Was that supposed to be...liquor? Surely not...
Handed back the not-shoe-polish, Schilva tries to hold his breath and make good on his image as (at least in his eyes) Frey casually proffers a test of character to him. The thin bubbling scum on the surface of the pitch-like drink bodes about as well as the searing at the back of his throat as the fumes waft from the rim of the bottle, but not all is lost as Schilva's quick tongue saves him in time.
Er, I just remembered, I'm sort of on a dietary regimen right now. No alcohol. Dulls the mind. Really do appreciate it though, I'll...keep it for afterwards.
Deliberately vague about the length of the regimen, Schilva pockets the drink into his UI inventory as promptly as would be considered polite, wondering what kind of bizarre iron gut Frey must have to be able to stomach something like that. Perhaps it's a Faerin thing?
Thankfully, a small prod at something else that had already been occupying Schilva's mind kept him from connecting any dots that would keep him up at night. Nobody had actually commented on the new robes that he'd upgraded to after his most recent adventures, nor had his growing fame brought about any fawning admirers like he'd expected. In fact, it didn't feel like much changed at all.
So it was a gladdened Schilva who almost began to skip with each step that answered the question, making sure to, in a very Starcalled fashion, pop out his nonexistent collar to make a point.
Haircut? Not quite. What you might be noticing are these new threads, this combination of expert tailoring and adventuring practicality! Rain, mud, blood and dust all roll off, water on a duck's back! Cleaning's a cinch, it wears like a bathing robe and turns a blow when you need it; didn't even break the bank!
Sounding more and more like he was trying to get sponsored by the armour-smith who had made his new robes, Schilva would point out the various functional underlayers and (mostly useless) aesthetic personalisations he'd taken extra care and funds to get fitted on as a show of his style and good taste.
It wasn't until the two passed under the walkway's threshold that he took note of where they were and remembered the point of coming out here. Pacing about the ruins, Schilva raps his knuckles against the crumbled brickwork and occasionally crouches to look like he's found something interesting when he really has no idea what he's doing.
Hrm, weird place. I expect there's a hidden door somewhere, but...
The leaves overhead shift as he ponders where this theoretical door could be hidden, making obvious the alluring colouration of Frey's own equipment. Having been too busy admiring himself, Schilva blinks and finds it somehow transfixing, the way the patterns seem to twist and contort under the sunlight. Almost like running ink.
...but say, you look quite decked out yourself. Don't see how that'll protect you from a stray arrow or spearpoint though. You sure you're safe wearing just that into this place?
Oblivious as to how Frey's protective gear actually worked, Schilva paces about to get a couple of good angles of the scintillating colours. Doing so, he barely notices the faint indents that he steps on in the floor; a series of clicks barely audible over his voice betrays the activation of some mechanism beneath their feet. The pattern is almost complete by the time he makes a full circle around Frey, his foot landing on the final groove.
Worry not! I'll protect you if your equipment fails. After all, what am I do to about my reputation if I let someone under my purview d-
Schilva's weight shifts enough to complete the pattern, the floor falling right out from underneath him.
It's a trapdoor!
Plummeting into the darkness below, Schilva cannot see the bottom...
UUUAAAGGGHHH???!!!?!?!!
