<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/8e/9f/07/8e9f07754d1df0b7526d76ff267edd4f.jpg)</div>Name: Evan Tempest'ive (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=906851)<br/>Tagging: Lauriel, Open<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">~Legend~</div><div class="spoiler_body">Blue text= Common   Green Text= Elvish   Pink Text= Sylvan   Italics= <em>Thoughts</em></div></div><hr/><br/>As clothes and fabric flew everywhere Evan again noticed that not one of those flung pants where his. He moved back over to the armed Lauriel, still near the small fitting room, to grab his fighting gear and his pants from her side where she had to drop them. He just looks at her and then away, trying and failing to avoid any more awkwardness. “Soooo… How’s it hanging?”<br/><br/>…<br/><br/>“Come here often?”  …<br/><br/>“I guess you don’t see this everyday, huh?”<em>…right…</em><br/><br/>“I meant the situation. Not…”<em>Well, apparently <span class="bbc_u">that</span> too…</em><br/><br/>“Errr…Not the highest moment for woodies, huh?”<br/><br/><em>…sigh…</em><br/><br/>“I mean, us elves of wood…”<br/><br/>Evan, totally not making anything better, his ‘Elven sword’ still at half mass from the revealing attire of the unconscious (and completely naked) twin and the adrenaline of battle.