Dean looked at Donovan with the sort of expression one might compare to glass: it would shatter at the slightest touch. At least he managed to keep the façade up rather than burst into laughter at his companion’s state.<br/><br/>“At least we didn’t choose to come at the hottest part of the day, eh?” Dean asked, taking the offered gear and pulling it on. The intricate leather armor, all black with silvered buckles, synched tight across his body. An idiotic number of daggers, some hidden in places one would never expect, followed, along with two short swords, a compound hand crossbow normally favored by the Drow, and a quiver with specialized quarrels in the event that he needed to shoot…pretty much anything.<br/><br/>Geared up, Dean’s visage quirked into a predatory smile. No longer needing to conceal himself, he inhaled and allowed his proximity to Donovan to enhance his size, his gear shifting with him. It was only a few inches; without Donovan actively opening the floodgates to their shared power, he couldn’t do much. But five foot eight was ridiculous. All real men were at least six foot something, which was right where he managed to expand to with the resources available to him.<br/><br/>Voice deepening to a gut-shaking baritone (it had already been deep before, but everything about Dean grew exaggerated when he was around Donovan), Dean murmured, “Let’s go. We’ve got maybe an hour before she finishes whatever meeting she’s in and returns.” The idea was to find the gems and use them to ease their bondage to one another, if not break it entirely, a prospect that made Dean positively salivate.<br/><br/>Turning, Dean began leading the way deeper into the tower. He’d memorized the basic layout from a guard the duo had bribed/drank with a few nights before and was able to use his slightly enhanced senses to lead them to the stairwell that led up, toward Zozo's private chambers.<br/><br/>A few feet into the climb, however, and a new presence – palpable to Dean, arose within his awareness. Turning to his companion, Dean made the most important hand gesture he knew: pretty was coming. And fast.<br/><br/>Yes, the man thought that he had the ability to sense “pretty.” More than likely it was his sense of smell, but whatever. No use in ruining the man’s illusions.