Well then, Kieran thought. He gave an experimental tug of his tongue against the roof of his mouth and found that, nope, it was just stuck. Tala was even crankier than he'd anticipated. And with his tongue stuck to the top of his mouth, it was impossible to have another sip of his drink in response to her comment, or at least very difficult. He was concerned enough about the choking risks to not want to try it either way. Kieran fixed Tala with his best exasperated look, complete with a dead-eyed expression. He would have been more inclined to help her if it weren't for the jinx, he thought, although to be entirely honest he was never going to be very likely to help her out when he was in this sort of mood.
If he wasn't going to help Tala, but he also couldn't say something snarky, then what could he do? Kieran looked into her eyes, his own flicking back and forth as he created the guise of being in deep thought - like he was really, really thinking of where he could find Eileen. He pulled his small reporter's notebook out of his trouser pocket and flipped through the pages of handwritten notes and quotes until he got to a blank page. He pulled a piece of artist's charcoal out of his other pocket after it - he'd been looking for a quill but, honestly, the charcoal would do nicely for at-mo-sphere. Never let it be said that Kieran wasn't dramatic when it suited him.
He held the notebook up towards him as he scrawled the note in his usual quick handwriting. Kieran then gave Tala the same annoyed, exasperated expression as beforehand, and turned the notebook around so that the page faced her. Written in big letters was his helpful note: FUCK OFF.
If he wasn't going to help Tala, but he also couldn't say something snarky, then what could he do? Kieran looked into her eyes, his own flicking back and forth as he created the guise of being in deep thought - like he was really, really thinking of where he could find Eileen. He pulled his small reporter's notebook out of his trouser pocket and flipped through the pages of handwritten notes and quotes until he got to a blank page. He pulled a piece of artist's charcoal out of his other pocket after it - he'd been looking for a quill but, honestly, the charcoal would do nicely for at-mo-sphere. Never let it be said that Kieran wasn't dramatic when it suited him.
He held the notebook up towards him as he scrawled the note in his usual quick handwriting. Kieran then gave Tala the same annoyed, exasperated expression as beforehand, and turned the notebook around so that the page faced her. Written in big letters was his helpful note: FUCK OFF.