Nobody's stopping you from looking at the other page.
[Judgmental side glance... The words are right there, buddy, the creatively drawn tits will be there even after Polnareff battles through the rest of this metaphor all by himself. Kakyoin holds the book up higher, pointedly, like they are earnestly both reading these words together for their literary merit and not their relative ridiculousness. Behold.
He hums after, which for a second seems like the only answer he's going to give with regards to the templar erotica question, but alright:] Templars wouldn't read a book this long. And they'd include more pictures.
[Ignoring the unfortunate implications of templar erotica if the mage lady remains a mage lady: templars are all meatheads who can't string more than a sentence together at a time, as far as Kakyoin is concerned. Their titty drawings aren't nearly as competent.
Still, and unrelated-sort-of to the smut, he can't help but recall that, oh yeah, they were supposed to be lighting a fire. Polnareff is, like— a living heater, it's almost weird, but there is another issue besides the source of warmth:]
If you can't get a fire going, how am I going to finish this book tonight?
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[Judgmental side glance... The words are right there, buddy, the creatively drawn tits will be there even after Polnareff battles through the rest of this metaphor all by himself. Kakyoin holds the book up higher, pointedly, like they are earnestly both reading these words together for their literary merit and not their relative ridiculousness. Behold.
He hums after, which for a second seems like the only answer he's going to give with regards to the templar erotica question, but alright:] Templars wouldn't read a book this long. And they'd include more pictures.
[Ignoring the unfortunate implications of templar erotica if the mage lady remains a mage lady: templars are all meatheads who can't string more than a sentence together at a time, as far as Kakyoin is concerned. Their titty drawings aren't nearly as competent.
Still, and unrelated-sort-of to the smut, he can't help but recall that, oh yeah, they were supposed to be lighting a fire. Polnareff is, like— a living heater, it's almost weird, but there is another issue besides the source of warmth:]
If you can't get a fire going, how am I going to finish this book tonight?