"Morning, Lord Cherion. The frost is thick enough to snap a spear today, isn't it?"
Cherion didn't even look up from the medicinal bandage he was currently strangling. His brain was operating on a five-second delay, stuck in a buffering loop that involved entirely too much sensory recall. "Is it? I hadn't noticed. I was busy questioning why my lips have decided to stop working like normal body parts."
The knight blinked. He stood there, breath hitching in the frigid air, looking deeply concerned for the mental health of the man responsible for his stitches. "Right. Normal body parts. The knight scratched his head. "Uh… I'll just leave you to it, yeah?"
"Yeah, please do. And if anyone asks, tell them the potatoes are going through something." Cherion muttered, waving a hand dismissively and ignoring the man's bewildered retreat.
