it's a lot of words that sound like nothing, at first, exactly five full seconds of processing before his brain comprehends the layout and order of what's being said. looks like ephemera, somewhere in the club. that mouthy motherfucking songbird. he knew it. )
Is that right.
( felix learned his lesson with crais the first time, in a transitory and relatively meaningless exchange that wouldn't have mattered to anyone except him: flinch and he pulls back, you lose ground gained. he doesn't flinch, smoothly pivoting on his heel to assess the club with a cursory scan. a combination of dim lights and too many goddamn people means he can't make heads or tails of most faces that aren't within his direct line of sight. that guy in the corner, head half-cocked toward him? could be his ride, could be some random asshole.
could be bluffing, too. probably not. during their first meeting crais told him, verbatim, that his mother would rip his dick off, and men like that don't generally mince words or waste threats, different species be damned. some things don't change regardless of physiology. comfortable, reliable constants.
fuck it, then. he has nothing of value on him beyond his sidearm, and no one in this shithole dies for real anyway. he's already died once. he knows how to do that just fine.
he follows crais, shadowing his back. )
You didn't tell me we had a mutual friend in common.
no subject
it's a lot of words that sound like nothing, at first, exactly five full seconds of processing before his brain comprehends the layout and order of what's being said. looks like ephemera, somewhere in the club. that mouthy motherfucking songbird. he knew it. )
Is that right.
( felix learned his lesson with crais the first time, in a transitory and relatively meaningless exchange that wouldn't have mattered to anyone except him: flinch and he pulls back, you lose ground gained. he doesn't flinch, smoothly pivoting on his heel to assess the club with a cursory scan. a combination of dim lights and too many goddamn people means he can't make heads or tails of most faces that aren't within his direct line of sight. that guy in the corner, head half-cocked toward him? could be his ride, could be some random asshole.
could be bluffing, too. probably not. during their first meeting crais told him, verbatim, that his mother would rip his dick off, and men like that don't generally mince words or waste threats, different species be damned. some things don't change regardless of physiology. comfortable, reliable constants.
fuck it, then. he has nothing of value on him beyond his sidearm, and no one in this shithole dies for real anyway. he's already died once. he knows how to do that just fine.
he follows crais, shadowing his back. )
You didn't tell me we had a mutual friend in common.