Daemon's thin, naked tail wagged a bit against his heavy cloak as she examined the boots, a sign that she was at least considering the trade. His ears flicked as she addressed Fion, his brow furrowing behind his raven mask in annoyance. It was a question, he was sure of it; and he wanted to answer it himself. He almost retreated to sulk again, but Fion put a supportive hand on his arm, and grinned brightly. 'E sure did! Ah 'elped wi't th' pouches! He added proudly, and rightfully so, as it was nearly impossible to tell which ones he'd sewn together and which Daemon had; a loose thread here or there, perhaps, or a slightly different stitch--but those were minor differences, and some of them belonged to Daemon, anyway.
Fion looked worriedly out at the brick building as she nodded to Daemon, and then down at the things he was hoping to sell, before he nodded and gave a quiet, Okay. He tugged on Daemons cloak to get his attention, though the naked male was focusing intently on the one who was about to lead him somewhere--he at the very least understood the nod. Hey, your stuff is gonna be safe, okay? Your stuff is safe. He tried, but the older male wasn't paying attention, more interested in the piercing that appeared as the woman stuck out her tongue.
Hey, do you think anyone would mind if we took these buildings? We've been living in the wagon, and there's no room for me and all his equipment... He began, just before they walked away. He didn't think they would; the buildings didn't smell claimed, but it wouldn't be the first time Fion was wrong. In the meantime, he'd try and sell all the wares Daemon had made and go from there. Daemon himself shifted with the trade goods in his arms, watching her expectantly, attempting to hold his focus longer than he usually could.
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