[ Gaius doesn't look up initially - he's still fucking with his Barge-y communicator, flicking through flappyhands network posts with a blithe sort of nihilism. It's switched off and he leans back to tuck the thing into an inner pocket, before noticing the hat tipping. ]
Oh, no, make yourself at [ and he catches that bright, golden gaze, the strange unnaturalness to skin tone, and falters some ] home.
[Spam]
Oh, no, make yourself at [ and he catches that bright, golden gaze, the strange unnaturalness to skin tone, and falters some ] home.