[ there's a certain bemused mirth in Gilgamesh's expression as he watches Sampo scroll through his list of faces and bodies, looking completely nonplussed as he continues handling his partner.

(it could be said, however, that when Sam comes back to himself, that there's a peculiar gleam in his eye that could almost, almost be accused of being pleased to see the man's usual face.)

he smirks, one golden brow arching. ] You cannot keep hiring Caleb to act as your legal counsel. I'm certain he printed his licenses off of a stock photo website.

[ he says, deadpan as anything, moving to sit besides Sam with a hand resting on his thigh. ] Mm. On one hand, no, it's beneath me. On the other hand, I have eaten McDonalds for you...