Snippet #2658275

"Nonsense!" the Frostarian chuckled, clapping the Salamander on the shoulder. "We have plenty of extra space and you can even room with me if need be, but I doubt that'd be the case. I know that my kind in the past have had a, uhh... superiority complex," he said a bit sheepishly. "But those that are stationed at the Embassy are rather open-minded. You kind of have to be in order to work at the Embassy." Come to think of it, it made sense. Azazel hadn't really thought about it too much. They were all craftsmen of a trade, bit it practical or political. "Besiiiiiides," the Northerner continued with gusto. "We've been here for a few years now. They're all used to be around the inhabitants of Zenith, and if you're a friend of mine then you're a friend of there's come on, Hakon." Azazel made a "follow me" gesture and began walking towards the street.