[Tony remains as glibe about his discrimination against birch syrup as anything. It's probably one of the less offensive things he's ever done in his wealthy rich white playboy life. And he'd much sooner worry about tinkering with his machine, as is obvious as he fiddles with the control panel when it finally locks into place. It's at a comfortable altitude for him, but no doubt when the Elezen gets here he may have to

stoop a little. Just don't mention that to him thanks, Aymeric. In the meantime, the fuzz comment gets a grin. How very charming!! when elite class nobility equivalents that secretly have messed up daddy issues try to get along with one another.]

Dravanian, [he repeats.] Molboro, going to assume that's not a rugged guy in Stetson riding a dusty brown horse. How fine is your control and precision with the force issued? Could you crack an egg a foot away and leave the rest of the room unharmed?