Going along with the mob is the easy way out. [ Just idle commentary with a note of approval, cause he's experienced the same thing himself naturally. Though in his case it was with a literal mob. There's some lingering irritation that he channels into playing with the fabric underneath his fingers, and any stray locks that have escaped the ribbon. More so the latter than the former, that dark laugh strangely tempting. ]

Makes sense with the whole [ Miming that noming motion from 2 Lies and a Truth. Anon might not be able to see it, but it's the thought that counts. Or something like that. ] thing.

Hmn, and then eventually the tournament happened.