[There's a moment of brief, blinded surprise that shows subtle on Julian's face - seen in the slight widening of his eye, the barest tilt of his head - when Fjord clears his throat and looks a little awkward, holds his own arm out instead. He's unaccustomed to it, given to gallantry himself, inclined to sweep people up in his wake and off their feet when he can get away with it, pressing them gently behind him whenever trouble presents itself. To be on the receiving end of gallantry himself is a new one, but after that one quick moment of confusion he's swift enough to take the half-orc's arm, has no masculine pride to wound, himself. Positively glitters, in fact, when someone else takes the lead.
He laughs a ringing laugh as he begins to move in the direction of a dimly lit alley that seems promising, tilts his face just slightly toward the man at his side.]
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He laughs a ringing laugh as he begins to move in the direction of a dimly lit alley that seems promising, tilts his face just slightly toward the man at his side.]
My dear, I'm sure that can be arranged.