Mmhm…

Azon hummed thoughtfully as he watched his reaction with shrewd, mismatched eyes. Ignis didn’t say anything in response except offer a lopsided, poorly concealed smirk – this man was about as convincing as a squirrel trying to bark. In pain, but still trying to keep it together. Amused, his brows arch, shrugging his shoulders. Whatever you say Mr."fit as a fiddle”. After all, who m’I to question Miss Willa’s diagnosis?

The tundrarian offered Fintan a toothy grin and, if he allowed it, would place a large paw on top of his crown, messing up the fur on the top of his head. That must mean you won't mind joining me on a little quest tomorrow, right? He tested – purposefully, of course. Yet there was a brief pause after the fact. When Azon had been close enough to him to catch the aroma that wafted from his red locs; he smelled of autumn.

He smelled…nice.

The knight’s attention wavered, however, by Fintan’s sudden exclamation – which caused his eyes to widen just a smidge. Honestly….Ignis still didn’t know what to make of the strange contraption sitting on his head, or why the freckled engineer felt so attached to it. Yet it was probably the same reason Azon was standing before him as we speak – Fin was a complete, utter mystery that the brute wanted to figure out.

A stifled snicker escaped from the crack of his lips at Fin’s own retelling of today’s events. So no true answer to how y’ended up like that, huh? the man questioned, recalling his own, very vocal, confusion upon encountering him and the lady in the fields that day. He'd tilt his chin up, followed by a wink. --but no worries. Yer secret's safe with me.

The general would come to the man’s side, next, inviting him to walk down the corridor as they talked.

’Suppose this water business got somethin’ to do with what you were up to before hangin’ from that tree, right?