Peering about the room, the rogue tilted his head... One booted foot bobbing lamely as he held a new glass of bloodwine between skeletal fingertips. It's spiced scent copper still... Often times, he found the solitude that came with being undead as a boon, but today... He was feeling oddly, social. However, with everyone busy with their own conversations, he resigned himself to isolation. For now at least... All things in good time, or so he was always telling his 'students'...<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>