(idling, he never truly keeps still. his anxiety might as well form a layer just beneath his skin for all the fidgeting he performs, which is why cigarettes come in handy. smoking in a chapel, however, is blasphemous.

so, jonas settles on shifting his weight from one leg to the other.)

Huh. Uh, you've got a pretty solid point, actually, but, like, I saw his fighting moves. It really seems like he's legit. (an egyptian god in purgatory—maybe that is something he should ask set about.) Apart from that, we kind of helped each other out in the Shadowlands. I know it sounds weird, but it's actually...

(feeling a little bit lame, he reaches down to better position his foot on a too-large piece of drywall, snapping it against the sole of his shoe.)

... nice, I guess. It feels safer to have somebody that strong watching my back. A couple people have offered to look out for me. Have you met anybody like that yet?