[Skan backwings to land directly in front of the inn, in a way that is as convenient as it is rude. Or, it would be rude, in White Gryphon; he's been away from proper society for long enough to make poor habits. But he greets the reception desk on his way in, and bows his way through the doors, pushing them aside with Viktor's crutch awkwardly held in his beak.
No hands, you see, when walking.]
Fhere you arf. [he offers the crutch to Viktor with his head tilted to make it an easier angle to grasp... and sighs with relief when it's taken.] Not much the worse for wear, I think.
no subject
No hands, you see, when walking.]
Fhere you arf. [he offers the crutch to Viktor with his head tilted to make it an easier angle to grasp... and sighs with relief when it's taken.] Not much the worse for wear, I think.