Gracefully, Respectfully (Two of Swords)
Jan. 25th, 2008 05:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jheti
"Really." She frowned and let the pile ease between her fingers to the table, a little crooked. "They all look the same to you, hey?"
"Bunch of inky fish-hooks," he said, rigid, face dark as his hair. "F'eshkenche. Jus' 'cause I'm the only whetstone you'n grab at doesn' make you sharper 'n' me."
The papers twitched under her hand. "I could help you!"
He leaned forward on his hips, squared his arms, teeth bared. "No, you can't."
"But--" her teeth prodded her lower lip, blood pearling under them. "Y'were doin' so well, before. Maybe if we--"
He cut her off. "I remember what I hear. Telsor was readin' it a few hours ago."
"So they're the same? The fish-hooks?" He nodded; she grabbed at that. "You can see them."
"Oh, ei, prettiness, certain sure." He snorted. "Even dogs know the diff'rence between steak and shit." It was a low growl. "I'm not blind."
"I didn'--"
His lips were white with pressure against his smile. "Didn' come to see them, hey? Came to see you." The expression never touched his eyes. He was focused on the shelf just over her shoulder, on the files there, with pure hate.
Her guts turned over; she swallowed and took a breath.
"Ei." Her answering smile stayed in place. "An' it's a good time y've arrived at, too. I was fair to going mad."
"I can imagine," he said, with a last poisonous glance at the papers. He made himself laugh; it was ugly, but it broke the tension well enough. He could move again. He could breathe again. Papers stayed where you put them.
"I haven't..." She paused. "I hear there's'n' ale-pit in this shithole town that'll actually serve mutants. All the way to last call an' everything."
Koteth grinned and extended his arm with a short bow. "I love civilization."
"Bunch of inky fish-hooks," he said, rigid, face dark as his hair. "F'eshkenche. Jus' 'cause I'm the only whetstone you'n grab at doesn' make you sharper 'n' me."
The papers twitched under her hand. "I could help you!"
He leaned forward on his hips, squared his arms, teeth bared. "No, you can't."
"But--" her teeth prodded her lower lip, blood pearling under them. "Y'were doin' so well, before. Maybe if we--"
He cut her off. "I remember what I hear. Telsor was readin' it a few hours ago."
"So they're the same? The fish-hooks?" He nodded; she grabbed at that. "You can see them."
"Oh, ei, prettiness, certain sure." He snorted. "Even dogs know the diff'rence between steak and shit." It was a low growl. "I'm not blind."
"I didn'--"
His lips were white with pressure against his smile. "Didn' come to see them, hey? Came to see you." The expression never touched his eyes. He was focused on the shelf just over her shoulder, on the files there, with pure hate.
Her guts turned over; she swallowed and took a breath.
"Ei." Her answering smile stayed in place. "An' it's a good time y've arrived at, too. I was fair to going mad."
"I can imagine," he said, with a last poisonous glance at the papers. He made himself laugh; it was ugly, but it broke the tension well enough. He could move again. He could breathe again. Papers stayed where you put them.
"I haven't..." She paused. "I hear there's'n' ale-pit in this shithole town that'll actually serve mutants. All the way to last call an' everything."
Koteth grinned and extended his arm with a short bow. "I love civilization."
