Lillian looked towards the blonde-haired man, identifying him as Lincoln. Then, she watched as he opened his mouth and spoke.
"Well, if it isn't the ones that killed our dear buddy Cicillian. It was definitely you guys, right?"
Balancing himself, he stood on top of the hawk's head, which dipped a bit at his weight but nonetheless kept afloat in the air as it flapped its wings.
Lincoln then waved his hand, waving it side-to-side with a casual expression as he spoke about his team member. He was sure they were the ones who had killed his teammate.
"I can't say I'm surprised. He was impulsive beyond compare. I thought he'd fall off the mountain and split his skull. It would've been satisfying."
Holding his chin, he imagined the thought. Then, he sighed, shaking his head at the unattainable image.
Lillian continued to listen as the short man continued to rant insults behind Cicillian's back—specifically, ones that described him as obscenely irritating and annoying.
