MerlynPyndragon

~23~ Leek Soup Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. Gilan only just managed not to swallow as the commandant continued to drum his fingers on the wooden arm of his chair, eyes fixated on the younger Ranger standing before him. A teasing droplet of sweat slipped down Gilan's spine with the gentleness of a feather, and a mallet pounded relentlessly at the inside of his chest. He cleared his throat, which felt like sandpaper. "So...that's it," he said finally, lifting his uninjured arm out to the side. A grand conclusion if there ever was one. Crowley quirked an eyebrow that might as well have been the falling gavel of Gilan's judgment. "'That's it,' eh?"