[ Roland nods and works closely with Inigo. There is a point in their silence that he finally keeps the football book in his Arms Band for later keeping in his bunker, or maybe in the library to add to the shelf. His notebook dutifully takes down the whole amount of potions - some named with silly little labels, some just out of this world. It passes like clockwork, seconds ticking by, seconds turning into minutes as they numb themselves to a pain of seeing someone they care about shirk away, alone, not wanting to see -
- as the task closes up, Roland hands the fully audited pile to Inigo, organized meticulously as the Chief Consul would be known for. But not without a whisper thrown his way, quiet yet full of emotion. ]
You're not alone, either. Okay? [ Even if Roland himself is trying to forget himself. ]
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- as the task closes up, Roland hands the fully audited pile to Inigo, organized meticulously as the Chief Consul would be known for. But not without a whisper thrown his way, quiet yet full of emotion. ]
You're not alone, either. Okay? [ Even if Roland himself is trying to forget himself. ]