CHEAT DEATH IF YOU WANT TO | MEETING 9.3

[Zjarr]

[div style="width: 48%; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 13px;"]His being promoted had never felt so bland and usual. For once he really didn't give a shit—it was just a fancy name at this point, along with something to do outside of his regular tasks. In all honesty he could be considered a greedy man when it came to power and dominance; once he started to acquire it over his Clanmates, it could just as easily get to his head and drive him to the edge, only to have him precariously hang over it, neither to climb back up nor to collapse. He felt that he could keep himself in check, but only for so long. Yet in this case, he was barely amused or delighted upon hearing his name. Maybe ol' Bastille just wasn't setting the mood, what with his apathetic, droning voice and a sheer lack of interest in running the whole operation. Zjarr didn't blame him. Everyone thought being a leader was fun and exciting, but it only raised one's anxiety and reduced them to a shell of their former selves.

"Hrmph, noted, congrats, 'n' thank ya," the canine drawled with a soft huff. Hey, an ambassador gig? Now that was something that could keep him occupied and maybe further away from the edge of sanity. "Throw my hat in for that ambassador program, too." His hues shifted towards Romanempire, who seemed to pipe up just before he could about the program. Well, he could work with others, right?

As for Roy's murder investigation? The demon was quite confident that he expressed his position on the matter—he wanted in. Nothing more to be said on that.

//snIPED

[glow=#f24b00,2,300]how'd it get so scandalous?[/glow] — ☼