[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=DC143C]Fyror Kildragon[/color][/i][/b][/h1] [img]https://media.giphy.com/media/4QF0Gu0AwjAC4MABwu/giphy.gif[/img][/center] [hr][hr][center][b][color=DC143C]Location:[/color][/b] La Canela Ship (Kitchen) [b][color=DC143C]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [/center][hr] Fyror looked over at Silvio and gave the man a curt nod of agreement as he tried to rein in the flames coiling within his being. The topic of discussion was a double-edged sword for him, painful on one end and enraging on the other. He took in a calming breath, as he slowly released his grip on the edge of the table. His brows drew together slightly in consideration of the comment that Millicent must be very dear to him. However, he had little chance to ponder what truly lied at the heart of his intentions when the man's open slight against Millicent jolted through him like lightning. His head swung back around, jaw clenching and the amber of his one good eye piercing. Had the man not just insinuated that Millicent was dear to him, and yet the man felt the need to immediately follow that with a blatant insult to her intelligence? His eyes narrowed a touch. The utter disrespect and lack of propriety got under his skin. Fortunately, Miss Fontaine spoke up with her words of wisdom. Fyror simmered down as he listened to Colette explain the likely reasoning behind Millicent's choices. He found himself nodding his head in agreement, taking particular note of the fact that she implied that she spoke from experience. His gaze turned sharply towards the door to the kitchen as he heard a sharp whistle outside.