[slightly confused by this sudden friendly overture, francel hesitates, as he technically still has a job to do. he compromises — he does not sit down by thancred's table, but he lingers a moment longer, still staring thoughtfully at the man's face, his tattoo.
it's not quite a realization, but in response, he musters the courage to ask:]
no subject
it's not quite a realization, but in response, he musters the courage to ask:]
— Are you a man of Eorzea, Thancred?