Bio? I don't need this. Draven's here to kick ass and look good while doin' it, so keep your eyes on ME. [ #LeagueRP | Not affiliated with Riot | #ᴄʀɪᴍȿᴏɴ ]
A chuckle rolls out of Draven's mouth. "Heh. Toughest kinda armor, ain't it? Perks of bein' famous."
He joins the assassin in looking at the sky for a moment—they're thinking the same thing, it seems, and the taller Noxian glances at Talon.
"Wanna drop by Fatman's bar?"
"Waiting for the right opportunity. Have to plan a contingency for the inevitable plot armor."
He raises the brow of his hat and looks up at the sky. Bout time of day for a drink.
This makes the executioner display a smirk of his own, toothy and full of his well-known personality.
"You betcha. Especially ones who start thinkin' they're unstoppable, or ones who think they're better than ya. You got any luck on your sister Red?"
An exaggerated gesture of finger guns and a wink. If he had three revolvers, he would be spinning and juggling them by now.
" 'Course I am. Draven ain't about to lose a public duel."
That made him pause for a moment.
...And then burst out laughing.
"I didn't know ya swung that way, shit! Sorry, but no thanks; Draven ain't into whatever kink that is."
He's smart enough to not drink all of Gragas' brew in one day—he's kept the entire cask the cooling unit, and he's gonna have one or two on occassion.
...Definitely getting sloshed in it after the Grand Reckonings though.
The Noxian salutes, flashing his unmistakable grin, and whistles away and out the door, a jaunt in his step.
Good alcohol and good killing! What a great year this would be!
There's his signature Draven Finger Guns™.
"Ya got yerself a deal, big man! Let's just hope the runt doesn't get smarter. Now—" he says as he walks over to the barrel and lifts it on his shoulder with a hefty grunt, "—I'll be seein' ya on the Grand Reckonin'. Don't be late!"
'Blueberry yordle' sounds absolutely hilarious that he's going to note that down for future use.
Clapping Gragas' back once more, he finally peels himself off his large friend. "Heh, that makes two of us, Fatman. Seein' ya torment that lil runt always makes my day!"
"Yeah but not for 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴—the oil ain't gonna mix well with the blood, and the blood is hella 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘦𝘳!"
Draven gives the assassin an incredulous look. He still hasn't let go of Talon, and instead pulls him closer to give him a little shake.
"C'mon, are ya Noxian or not?"
"The blood part is a given but.."
Talon shoots Draven a look of non-belief.
"... you're telling me, you, Draven, the guy who oils himself on the regular for his fans isn't doing it for this? Pfft-"
Talon rolls his eyes, and tries to tug his shorts down to cover himself more.