Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-3991308-20170215063845/@comment-25686329-20170628232024

The door swung back open again and The Yankee stood there for a moment with little more introduction than a sniff and a polite once-over of those in the room.

At another point a long time ago, Yankee would have analyzed everyone sitting, standing, being before him, but not now. Something had shifted. Now it was apathy more than the hostility it used to be.

He entered slowly, taking measure steps.

He sat down in a chair, ran his hands through his hair, and then spoke clearly and distinctly above the buzz to ask an open question: "Why do we come to these? It won't change anything. Spell, death might not even be a concrete thing in anyone's story. Like...Ticktania's ALIVE again..."