Redsand Canyon as the building continues to burn

after their myriad encounters with donovan, who was only too ready to joke and flirt at the slightest provocation; their single brief meeting with nemisis, who was too busy talking herself up to shut her mouth; and their chat with auriel, who had come directly out of the gate to deliver a stunning error of judgment by calling them sad to their face, it was likewise a surprise for renard to find someone as taciturn as finley appeared to be.

a surprise, but a good one. wouldn’t it be nice to find another person more given to thinking than charging in half-assed? much as they respected donovan, his dealings with nemisis were, thus far, doing nothing for his image – nor was the frenzy already eager to batter down the doors before they had fully established themselves.

“oh, nothing special.” they were privy to only two sad stories: donovan’s, whose they at least held a modicum of sympathy for, and nemisis’, whose – anyone who brought sympathy up in front of her had a snowball’s chance in a forest fire of a positive reception, and it was an understatement to say they did not care to spend the effort. she didn’t even seem particularly kind to donovan, for whatever was going on there; they doubted her concern was for much past her position and whatever shit she’d been so pleased with outside the den. “i had a good home, a good position. they taught me what i needed to be useful to them. i used it, and then i taught it to their children. i enjoyed it, for a while, but all good things get boring eventually.” renard smiled wryly. “i suppose we can’t all have as tragic a story as donovan.”

lifting their head, renard fixed her with a thoughtful look, one that did not miss the way her eyes roved over them. it lifted her a fraction in their estimation – someone knew how to properly size a threat. “as long as we’re sharing life stories, enlighten me. what brought you here?” their head tipped to the side. “surely not the sunny weather.”