smartass_captain

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Harrowheart can't help but grin at her reaction, proud (as he always is) to startle someone and even prouder to be recognized without her having ever seen his face before. He bounces his eyebrows and takes a sip of his drink.

"In the flesh. I'm an old pal of Jim's. Met him here, in this place. On the same night Felix met him, come to think of it. They sure have come a long way..."

His glowing eyes scan the crowd. He half expects to see the couple, but he doesn't catch sight of them. He does glance over at The Orc in the process, though. It seems he might be content to keep on looking, but after a few seconds he can't stop his eyes from drifting back in her direction.

This is a wedding, he has to remind himself. No pot-stirrin' at weddings. Pretty sure anti-Orcism counts as pot-stirring. That means he's going to have to practice brain-to-mouth filtration. Time for an old dog to learn a new trick. Though she did call him a zombie, which is something he's never been partial to, and so if he were to say something back, wouldn't that just be making it all even?...

As Harrowheart mulls over his behavioral protocols and the ramifications of bad behavior, he stares. Just stares and stares, unblinking and unbreathing, as if he had been suddenly petrified.

And then he laughs! He huffs a little laugh and turns back to Marcella as if no time at all had passed. There's a small smile on his face, even. "See you brought your ladyfriend. Tell her I said hello. You can tell her I said 'thank you,' too, since we're at a weddin' and bein' kind and on best behaviors and all."