[center][h3]--- [i]Center of Town[/i] ---[/h3]
[h2][i][b][color=6ecff6]Rinn Arniman[/color][/b][/i][/h2]
Interactions: [@xaltwind], [@BunniesOfDoom][/center]
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Rinn's legs shook with each blow from the hand as he was forced slightly lower with each clap, though he somehow maintained his friendly smile while his teeth rattled in his skull. [color=6ecff6]"O-of course, good ser."[/color] He finally managed to squeak as Daryl wrapped him around the shoulders and practically carried him outside like he had the barrel of tools just minutes ago. [color=6ecff6]"Y-You're lovely wife-" [/color]the bard said as Daryl set him down and began pulling things from the cart bed seemingly at random. [color=6ecff6]"How- *oof* -did you- *uff* -meet?"[/color] The 'small' bags were piled into his arms like he was a packhorse and it took all his strength and will just to make his words intelligable as he turned and began inching back towards the house. [color=6ecff6]"Quite... a ways... to go... for a home?"[/color]

Despite Rinn's fopish appearance, he was in relatively good shape but just two trips with Daryl had him dripping sweat and breathing heavily. Not a drop of sweat stained the other man's head, however, even after carrying the brunt of the materials and his delightfully cheery attitude never wavered. Sharyl, for her credit, never ceased in her own work and every time Rinn came back into the house another blanket was well on its way to completion.

On the fifth trip, just before Rinn's body gave out to exhaustion, he was finally allowed to fall into an old chair that thankfully held despite creaking ominously. He slumped forward onto the table, his sweat-covered cheek picking up more than a little dust, though he was too tired to care. Within an instant Sheryl had a cup of tea set before him. [color=6ecff6]"Thank... you..."[/color] Was all he managed to choke out.