Roswell fiddled with the unclipped necklace in his hands, waiting for the courage he was missing to arrive.

It did not arrive as quickly as Roswell hoped.

He bit his lip and released too many times to count. He looked up from his hands that lay in his lap to {{user}}, who sat on a nailed crate—all while looking effortlessly cool, Roswell thought. Even for an Oresman, he added, though not mentally…

“Did I say that? I-I didn’t mean anything bad about those with ore powers! I swear, man!”