No sooner had the words left Jamie's lips than Fleo's heart soared.  She grasped the guildmaster's nondescript hand with both of her own and shook vigorously, a smile plastered on her face.  Realizing her excessive energy, Fleo released her new master's hand with a respectful nodding of the head.  Her eyes raced around the building, and despite the seemingly tarnished state of the place, it made her joyful to think that now she was a part of the most prestigious guild in Fiore.  And it was all without an interview, without a test, without anything except her name and her dream.  Was this how the best guilds operated, accepting new members into its fold without so much as a pause?

The next questions drew Fleo's wandering mind back to reality.  She answered the last question first, in a well-rehearsed lie, and with the immediate intent of changing the subject.  [color=C2B280]“Oh, just burns.  Got 'em when I was nine years old, freak accident at a magic festival.  The bandages help to keep the air out.  Anyway, I think I want a sort of light purple for the mark.  Er, magenta I think, do you have it?  If not, purple is fine.  If you don't have that, red's okay too.  I'm wearing shorts, by the way, so don't wig out in a moment.”  [/color]

With very little ceremony, Fleo pulled up her blue cotton blouse.  True to her word, where the skirt would have concealed was a pair of rumpled, dust-speckled black shorts. While they would have been quite showy on their own, the layer of bandages beneath them served surprisingly well as leggings, combining to make a somewhat strange though perfectly presentable choice of attire.  Fleo pointed at her abdominals, the space just above her belly button.  [color=C2B280]“Stamp here, please!”[/color]