Kessler gives a light, genuine chuckle as he looks down at his clunky flight boots, knobby knees, and stiff hands. For all Cryer's innovations in medicine over the centuries, there were simply some things that hit sooner or later - even for the immensely wealthy, which he most certainly was not. An innumerable amount of crushed shoes and refusal to clean the grim from his treads on a regular basis also probably didn't help in the past. "Oh, no, I never could dance to...uh...'save my life', as they say? I mean I'm not saying this about the situation here, but you know what I mean - I hope."
He nods slowly, "I guess I kinda clam up in person, but I'll dig around and try to find something, er, appropriate eventually. If it's not too much of a liability or something to send something in the future - especially with...laws and stuff."
If only I'd taken this kind of luck to the Golden Dragon, right? Alright, here goes another...
Kessler eyes the gun warily, but is already begging to shift around with far less trembling, "Is it too forward to ask to adapt a story with some elements? Like I said, I'm not trying to make light of it and I'm definitely not looking to cash in on it - or at least not without turning everything earned over."
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