#he isnt dark but he helps her on her treasure hunts and sometimes they shack up in REALLY DODGY inns

[recitedemise]

36﹕ sender  is  found  drunk  by  receiver . --- more like. . . on skooma. . . rip

𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺: still accepting. / 36: sender  is  found  (absolutely high)  by  receiver.

"Chasing stars tonight are we?"

Gale looks down to her, and the world is askew.

Or, well, askew to her, at the very least. For Gale -- eyes curious, quizzical brow just a teeny bit ruffled -- he has yet these boot-weathered floors groaning loud beneath his feet and up past the bannisters, the candled chandeliers. He sits himself casually, indulging more in some mead you needn't dealers to buy. However, Val's a rebel and a half, a soul of dares and dos and everything a problem, so here in this tavern, she drinks her sugar from the moon. Toasted. Gale, leaning in, stifles a snort.

"I shouldn't have to remind you, but starting a few weeks back, you've a mage in your employ," he says. Casually, he reveals his open palm to reveal a coin purse he'd won. "I could have woven you whole constellations had that been your desire--or at least spoiled you with a tot of something not entirely swill. I don't remember frugal resting among your list of inexhaustible qualities, Valvari. Astrology's taken quite a turn."

And so has his life as luck would have it. Gale keeps his hood draped over his head, his sickly dark veins throbbing clear beneath his cheek. Past their booth, the gaggle of criminals swap stories and laugh bawdily. They're a deal less savory than scholars, but only by a smidge.