"I'm merely seeking a little reprieve from the sun," said as he hoists his drink up with a tilt of his head, pointing in the direction of the umbrella his gaze slides to appreciate. That done J lowers the beverage to sway it ever so slightly to and fro within his grip. "And mooching to my heart's content."
In other circumstances, this might resemble a taunt; with J practically mocking the original owner by waving stolen goods in their face. But in this case, Emet-Selch doesn't seem bothered enough for J to try and press his buttons. Still, J is quick to hide the ghost of a smirk wrapped around the rim of his sugary confection. Not that it does anything but further highlight his impish mood. There's a brief interlude where he wets his whistle, savoring the reprieve from a sun-parched throat that appreciates the balm of a cool refreshment no matter how quickly he heals such a minor discomfort.
"Might as well enjoy the bountiful generosity of my peers," he sighs in relief, resting the glass bottle against his cheek to let the chill slip into skin. "Before that well inevitably runs dry."
Heavy words to exchange over a single cheap beverage and some stolen shade. Or maybe there's a sense he's alluding to matters that reach beyond those. Not that there's time to ponder that when J's attention diverts back to his fellow Kenoma's property with a sweep of the arm draped over his knee. An upturned palm gestures very clearly to the state of the rapidly depleting ice bucket nearby.
Seems the children have decided to ransack both it and its contents. Some take drinks while others go for the ice itself. One boy full of mischief has taken to scooping out handfuls of ice cubes in order to run after his playmates. He alternates between trying to simply chuck one at a time at scurrying bodies or shove them down bathing suits to the tune of childish shrieks. Emet-Selch gets one thrown at his chest in a bout of friendly fire as the kids run past. "I'd say the kiddos needed a timeout from the heat too, but these rugrats bounce back faster than I do."
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In other circumstances, this might resemble a taunt; with J practically mocking the original owner by waving stolen goods in their face. But in this case, Emet-Selch doesn't seem bothered enough for J to try and press his buttons. Still, J is quick to hide the ghost of a smirk wrapped around the rim of his sugary confection. Not that it does anything but further highlight his impish mood. There's a brief interlude where he wets his whistle, savoring the reprieve from a sun-parched throat that appreciates the balm of a cool refreshment no matter how quickly he heals such a minor discomfort.
"Might as well enjoy the bountiful generosity of my peers," he sighs in relief, resting the glass bottle against his cheek to let the chill slip into skin. "Before that well inevitably runs dry."
Heavy words to exchange over a single cheap beverage and some stolen shade. Or maybe there's a sense he's alluding to matters that reach beyond those. Not that there's time to ponder that when J's attention diverts back to his fellow Kenoma's property with a sweep of the arm draped over his knee. An upturned palm gestures very clearly to the state of the rapidly depleting ice bucket nearby.
Seems the children have decided to ransack both it and its contents. Some take drinks while others go for the ice itself. One boy full of mischief has taken to scooping out handfuls of ice cubes in order to run after his playmates. He alternates between trying to simply chuck one at a time at scurrying bodies or shove them down bathing suits to the tune of childish shrieks. Emet-Selch gets one thrown at his chest in a bout of friendly fire as the kids run past. "I'd say the kiddos needed a timeout from the heat too, but these rugrats bounce back faster than I do."