[Aha, there it is, the little mail moogle, the little fiend. When their eyes meet, Ardyn’s smile curves into a shape that he often saved for men like Ravus, with whom he knew he could annoy with the smallest effort. Were it not for how eager X’rhun is to leave, or his wilting good humor, he might have spared a few words for the little creature — patronizing ones, likely, paired with a kupo! at the end.

But today, X’rhun is spared of having to deal with that. He mutters a—]

Fine, fine. Are you always such a grouch when the weather turns frosty?

[Or when someone kicks snow in his boots, but surely that has nothing to do with it.

He follows him along the path they just took, glancing about with mild curiosity, and continuing his ramblings.]

I wonder why the moogles in this world are such a bother. I really do prefer the ones from Eos.

[Stuffed and silent.]