Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-7497475-20141128032451/@comment-11588669-20141228011224

Ambrose nodded. His items were gathered, and he returned his hand to her shoulder to gently steer Chamoisee out of the shooting range. His touch was light and gentle, just enough to move her but not promote urgency.

The other person gave a cold look with merciless dark blue eyes, and returned to what he was doing. Which, currently, was throwing knives at targets moving insanely fast. Even for the sniper, what he was doing was uncanny.

Once out of the room, the mute steered Chamoisee outside, to an area that people rarely used. Finding a nice spot of grass, he sat down, patting the area beside him. His notebook was out, and on it was a question:

Are you okay?