Wrench raises a single eyebrow in silent retort. For a long moment, the taller man gives nothing else that could be classified as a response to this admission. He lets it hang heavily between them, as if he’s testing whether or not Iggy might wish he could unring that particular bell in the face of a little bit of pressure. It appears that he won’t, though, so eventually Wrench does say more.
But what about taller?
He doesn’t give much time for further banter, though. The rest of what Iggy has to say leaves him sighing through his nose. It’s an unconscious but world-weary response, the kind of reaction borne of a man who is very much just a man, and thought for one glimmering second he might not be alone in that. But if souls are Iggy’s thing…
I can take you, if you know what to do from there. He doesn’t say it, but Wrench thinks he might not mind observing, either. He can only begin to assume his own God might be getting a little tired of boar entrails.
no subject
But what about taller?
He doesn’t give much time for further banter, though. The rest of what Iggy has to say leaves him sighing through his nose. It’s an unconscious but world-weary response, the kind of reaction borne of a man who is very much just a man, and thought for one glimmering second he might not be alone in that. But if souls are Iggy’s thing…
I can take you, if you know what to do from there. He doesn’t say it, but Wrench thinks he might not mind observing, either. He can only begin to assume his own God might be getting a little tired of boar entrails.