He nodded along with her, as if what she said really made any sense. Zo didn't need her approval to know that he was attractive. He basically slept his way across Sleibte. His height, his strength, his exotic coloration and his general good looks weakened knees all over. However, he was about as prideful as a potato. Someone who constantly had something to prove might have bristled at her confused refusal to admit his charm. Zo, on the other hand, was not only confident, but content with his lot. He'd seen many years, as a Tarsian, and had had a lot of time to come to terms with himself and his likes and dislikes. He knew his weaknesses, knew his strengths, and some things did not need defense, ie his looks.
"In the anycase," (not a word at all Zo, gods!) "what where y'doin' here in Sleibte? Last we met was in Xira, an' I tol' you I was comin' up t'Sleibte t'create some distance a'tween me an' a few ardent admirers."
Somewhere along the line, he'd adopted a very rural way of speaking, dropping vowels and whole parts of words, while creating new words. He was not unintelligent, and assuming so because of his accent was a grave mistake. Sometimes, when pressed, he could drop all pretenses and speak in the harsh, clipped accent he'd developed amongst the Iyarai. But Zo was not only relaxed, but damn near vacationing. He could talk how he liked.
"In the anycase," (not a word at all Zo, gods!) "what where y'doin' here in Sleibte? Last we met was in Xira, an' I tol' you I was comin' up t'Sleibte t'create some distance a'tween me an' a few ardent admirers."
Somewhere along the line, he'd adopted a very rural way of speaking, dropping vowels and whole parts of words, while creating new words. He was not unintelligent, and assuming so because of his accent was a grave mistake. Sometimes, when pressed, he could drop all pretenses and speak in the harsh, clipped accent he'd developed amongst the Iyarai. But Zo was not only relaxed, but damn near vacationing. He could talk how he liked.
