[Well, if you were hoping for someone that...wasn't Kimblee driving this thing, then you're about to be sorely disappointed.
He's wearing black rather than white and he seems to have lost the suit jacket, though the ever-present button-up and gloves are still being worn; the gloves are likewise black in color, and though he has his collar fastened clear up, there's a light white edging just beneath it that's visible if he moves just so - bandaging over the scars there, covering those jagged trails across his throat.
He's leaning idly against the counter, however, his stance broad and one of his forearms braced against it for balance; his other hand is playing a bit with the floral arrangement set up in a vase on the counter, running his fingertips over the petals a little.
Yarrow, hollyhock, lobelia. A declaration of war through flowers, if such a thing can exist.]
no subject
He's wearing black rather than white and he seems to have lost the suit jacket, though the ever-present button-up and gloves are still being worn; the gloves are likewise black in color, and though he has his collar fastened clear up, there's a light white edging just beneath it that's visible if he moves just so - bandaging over the scars there, covering those jagged trails across his throat.
He's leaning idly against the counter, however, his stance broad and one of his forearms braced against it for balance; his other hand is playing a bit with the floral arrangement set up in a vase on the counter, running his fingertips over the petals a little.
Yarrow, hollyhock, lobelia. A declaration of war through flowers, if such a thing can exist.]
And a good afternoon to you as well, Archer.