"Don't tell the old ladies downstairs anything," he shoots her a glare. "They're already in my business enough. Did you put 'em up to trying to shave me?"

He runs careful fingers over his more-than-stubble. He wouldn't put it past her...

"We'll see how they taste, then I'll decide if you should stick with the brownies or the yelling. Long as you don't turn me into a frog with a metal leg, I can deal with either."

"Dealing with" Rahzel is certainly a tsun way of putting that, Bucky. She probably doesn't know how much her presence has, bit by bit, let a little sun into the room. It's still too dim to make out more than shapes, but it's there, a little brighter than before.