Alpine Lake sans

Kynareth stands tall, yet casual. Not overbearing his rank and authority onto the other. He doesn’t like to flex too much unless he truly has to. Or sometimes he does it to be flashy, but that’s not the point. Yet when this ashen makes speaks, Donovan’s thick auds press forward. His voice is one he’s not quite heard before. Hell, it almost has him side eyeing the male in a more unprofessional type of way. He doesn’t hide his interest either. As soon as the first few words come out he’s smirking and eyeing the other down not as suggestive as one might think, yet it’s still obvious enough to tell. 

The Grandmaster steps forth and finally answers back to the owner of that luscious, surly voice. “I am.” He hums easily. “We could use the numbers. You’re no spy are you?” He asks with a lightly warning tone to his voice. Though he supposes that if he was he’d never tell him. “‘Cause I’ll be watching you very closely until you’ve proven yourself that we can trust you. I hope you understand my concerns, dear.” His reply isn’t rough, or deathly. Only informative with that warning in those starlike hues that chase the others almost eagerly.