1/2

[ he'll get as loud as surge needs him to be, if he has to! but even as della agrees not to talk down to surge, there's still a bit of a bitterness to the sulk kit wears. he shrinks back into himself, adjusting the straps of his pack before he looks back down at his notebook. what he'd written before is still on the paper, so now it reads:

mead... sandwich with cheese... water...

maybe she doesn't want a hangover or something. ]

I'll tell the cooks.

[ no stutters or uncertainty to his voice now, his lightless gaze falling on della before it shifts to surge, and he turns to make his way. ]