[Qui-Gon stands strong against the sudden buffet of the storm's dying gasp, and quickly relaxes once it passes over. Water streams down his furrowed brow and down his face as he regains himself and tampers down the threat of chattering teeth before he speaks.]
I think I agree.
[His tone is the driest thing in at least a half-mile radius.]
no subject
I think I agree.
[His tone is the driest thing in at least a half-mile radius.]
Are you alright?