A; [ For the most part, Sanson walks into the room compliantly before taking the seat furthest away from the door. There's a notebook in his hand (he'd been advised this was a meeting, after all), along with an old-fashioned fountain ink pen.
He flips it open and waits for the rest to be seated, but he doesn't talk. Unless the silence stretches too long, then he will break it with a very deadpan: ]
Well? Are we about to begin?
D; [ As a Servant, Sanson doesn't really need to eat much. The fact that he no longer has an active mana connection to his Master is a problem, but the environment around him seems to be supplying enough.
However, any gentleman does need tea once in a while, and it's what he requests from the droid. What he actually gets, however, is a cup of suspiciously grey liquid.
If you're next to him, you'll get a quip after a few seconds of silence. ]
I'd suppose they took 'grey' a little too literally, didn't they?
E; [ Unlike most people, Sanson's reaction to having a Gasopod pod stuck to his arm is remarkably calm.
The Assassin is seated at a table in one of the common areas, perhaps, with a sheet of plastic in front of him. There's a thick rubber cord wrapped around the affected upper arm, and in his other hand is some sort of scalpel. For now, he looks at it with a sharp ice-blue gaze, tapping the skin around the edges of the pod with the blunt end of the scalpel and otherwise examining it with an objective eye.
He's literally going to cut it off and dump it - an amputation, like what any serious doctor would do. But maybe it's not that good an idea? ]
charles-henri 'i only have a slasher smile' sanson | fate/go
[ For the most part, Sanson walks into the room compliantly before taking the seat furthest away from the door. There's a notebook in his hand (he'd been advised this was a meeting, after all), along with an old-fashioned fountain ink pen.
He flips it open and waits for the rest to be seated, but he doesn't talk. Unless the silence stretches too long, then he will break it with a very deadpan: ]
Well? Are we about to begin?
D;
[ As a Servant, Sanson doesn't really need to eat much. The fact that he no longer has an active mana connection to his Master is a problem, but the environment around him seems to be supplying enough.
However, any gentleman does need tea once in a while, and it's what he requests from the droid. What he actually gets, however, is a cup of suspiciously grey liquid.
If you're next to him, you'll get a quip after a few seconds of silence. ]
I'd suppose they took 'grey' a little too literally, didn't they?
E;
[ Unlike most people, Sanson's reaction to having a Gasopod pod stuck to his arm is remarkably calm.
The Assassin is seated at a table in one of the common areas, perhaps, with a sheet of plastic in front of him. There's a thick rubber cord wrapped around the affected upper arm, and in his other hand is some sort of scalpel. For now, he looks at it with a sharp ice-blue gaze, tapping the skin around the edges of the pod with the blunt end of the scalpel and otherwise examining it with an objective eye.
He's literally going to cut it off and dump it - an amputation, like what any serious doctor would do. But maybe it's not that good an idea? ]