[ It isn't the same. But Kostos can't say that it isn't the same, because the reason why—if a king woke in the middle of the night and ordered his army to slaughter his family, they would send him back to bed—is, if not an open wound, at least a favored ankle, liable to twist again under pressure.
He can't say it, but his brow furrows and his head tilts in obvious disagreeableness, all before the dirty cup is offered, at which point the furrow deepens. He's put worse in this mouth, by far. But it feels like a detente, when they haven't discussed terms, and that's—
He takes the cup, but he tips it toward Nikos first, in warning. ]
Do not try to recruit me. [ Without much feeling. He doesn't think Nikos would; he isn't sure how much he would really object to the ideas Nikos and his friends advocate, anymore, if pressed past the point of disagreeing out of habit. ] But do keep comparing me to a king. I like that part.
[With an equal lack of feeling, Nikos advises,] Fuck off.
[Dirty cup is better than jug, which is what Nikos uses as his cup: a swig, directly from the mouth. There isn't much left to it, a knowledge that scratches at Nikos somewhere below even the prickly tense feeling under the scar and skin of his right arm.
He meets Kostos' eye anyways, his gaze even and unimpressed.]
I wouldn't want you anyways. Questionable loyalties and a fucking awful lot of debt.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2018-07-29 06:28 am (UTC)He can't say it, but his brow furrows and his head tilts in obvious disagreeableness, all before the dirty cup is offered, at which point the furrow deepens. He's put worse in this mouth, by far. But it feels like a detente, when they haven't discussed terms, and that's—
He takes the cup, but he tips it toward Nikos first, in warning. ]
Do not try to recruit me. [ Without much feeling. He doesn't think Nikos would; he isn't sure how much he would really object to the ideas Nikos and his friends advocate, anymore, if pressed past the point of disagreeing out of habit. ] But do keep comparing me to a king. I like that part.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-07 06:07 pm (UTC)[Dirty cup is better than jug, which is what Nikos uses as his cup: a swig, directly from the mouth. There isn't much left to it, a knowledge that scratches at Nikos somewhere below even the prickly tense feeling under the scar and skin of his right arm.
He meets Kostos' eye anyways, his gaze even and unimpressed.]
I wouldn't want you anyways. Questionable loyalties and a fucking awful lot of debt.