[If Ferran were in better form, he might make some humorous remark about the thrill of the chase, or Hans secretly being some kind of adrenaline junkie. Instead, he simply folds his arms to give them a place to be now that Hans has escaped his grasp, his lips pressed together.
Fine... an hour.]
It won't be locked.
[His gaze lingers even as he turns to continue on his way, towards the cabin he currently calls home.]
no subject
Fine... an hour.]
It won't be locked.
[His gaze lingers even as he turns to continue on his way, towards the cabin he currently calls home.]