( He cocks his head a little at I have no need of you, eyes narrowing. He's met fucking fire priestesses who do something like that — who seem to know what you're thinking, who speak about it like the conversation in your mind's one you've had on your lips. The longer he talks with this one, the more she feels like one of those.
He can't say he's a fan of the concept, though he's less knee-jerk opposed to it than some men might be. It's a general, mild sort of disdain — much like his general, mild disdain for practically everything in the world. She wants to read his thoughts, she's only got herself to blame for what she sees. Rarely does he ever think anything he particularly minds putting directly into words anyway. )
Deal?
( He echoes, like the word's absurd. It's not a common turn of phrase where he's from, but he's not stupid. He can parse it through context, through the loose association with cards. )
Wood's my deal. Or at least it was before you showed up. What's your fucking deal? If you don't need me, why are you here?
no subject
He can't say he's a fan of the concept, though he's less knee-jerk opposed to it than some men might be. It's a general, mild sort of disdain — much like his general, mild disdain for practically everything in the world. She wants to read his thoughts, she's only got herself to blame for what she sees. Rarely does he ever think anything he particularly minds putting directly into words anyway. )
Deal?
( He echoes, like the word's absurd. It's not a common turn of phrase where he's from, but he's not stupid. He can parse it through context, through the loose association with cards. )
Wood's my deal. Or at least it was before you showed up. What's your fucking deal? If you don't need me, why are you here?