The bottle rang with a sound not unlike someone pouring water down a well, small wisps of bright red Fog escaping his ears.

When the flow stopped he hurriedly corked the bottle shut, coughing up a few puffs of Red Fog. “It gets easier the more y’ do it my ass…” he grumbled, placing the seal-covered bottle back in its place and reaching for a green one. The motion of his arm wafted a small portion of the Red Fog towards her before it could dissipate. It carried the smell of combat, of blood and fear, but also of excitement and exhilaration. The smell of battle and survival. For a moment, it was as she was in the middle of a fight for her life, adrenaline surging and her survivor’s instinct going off. Then, it was over - the Swordsman had very literally snapped her out of it with a snap of his fingers in front of her face.

“And here I was thinkin’ I’d have to purge your system as well. Just the snap usually ain’t enough,” he remarked, taking a seat on the bunk across from her. Zelsys felt his eyes tracing her skin, following her markings with a curious glint to his hardened gaze - a glint almost bright enough to overshadow the undertone of carnal appreciation. She didn’t mind, such things weren’t a one-way street after all.

“Good to see the self-adjustment still works on those,” he continued, gesturing at her trousers. His gaze drifted towards her open fly, a mutter of “...Mostly.” punctuating the action of his eyes snapping upward to Zelsys’ grinning, smug face.

“Before y’say anything, you and I both know this is the kinda shit Rubedo exposure does to someone with a tolerance,” he excused himself and took another swig of Viriditas, some of the redness fading from his tattoos.

She didn’t know that, but she didn’t mind him thinking she did, and so gave a small nod of agreement with that amused grin splayed over her features. Her silvery-white eyes observed the hardened soldier with an equally amused curiosity as she crossed her legs, leaning back in the bunk a bit.

“I don’t recall pure Viriditas being that light a green,” she said smugly, trying to get him to explain more without betraying her own lack of knowledge. She was certain he had fallen for it when he let out a sarcastic chuckle, cleared his throat, and in an exaggerated, patronizing tone began to recite a spiel, gesturing with the bottle as he went.

“Mix together two parts of distilled water, two parts pure Viriditas, and one part Ethanol to produce a most wondrous of concoctions - Liquid Vigor!” recited the Swordsman, chortling at the absurdity of it before he took another swig and his tattoos returned to black. He corked the bottle and put it next to his bunk, a third of its contents still swirling inside. For a brief time they remained quiet, only the rustling of the leaves and the muffled, unintelligible conversation between Spliteye and Wire to break the silence.