The matter of his own age needn't be brought up—as ever, that whisper promises survival in exchange for secrets kept—and he is not convinced that a long, long time means what it means for him, but the likeness is nevertheless compelling. There's a new backlit quality to his eyes, the way they move, little flicks of growing interest.
(He refuses to ask what a Twinkie is.)]
What magic?
[This man can't be Grisha, his... everything... is off.]
no subject
[He digs.
Or whatever.
The matter of his own age needn't be brought up—as ever, that whisper promises survival in exchange for secrets kept—and he is not convinced that a long, long time means what it means for him, but the likeness is nevertheless compelling. There's a new backlit quality to his eyes, the way they move, little flicks of growing interest.
(He refuses to ask what a Twinkie is.)]
What magic?
[This man can't be Grisha, his... everything... is off.]