Sometimes, Marcus Rowntree talks and Flint can't help but find it rankling. There is something in the man's bearing, if not his tone or brogue, which puts him of a mind of—
someone else. A first lieutenant he'd known once, maybe. Or some similarly aggravating individual, or an amalgamation of a half dozen. He thinks less of a particular name and moreso on the chafing sensation, nevermind that it is irrational to prickle so here in this moment when Rowntree has been only sensible.
Were their positions reversed, he might make similar remarks.
(They would not be reversed.)
Flint hums a low note in acknowledgement of what Marcus has said rather than address his own displeasure enough to give it form in his expression or gestures. Instead, his hand moves to the edge of the fully rendered chart, fingers encouraging it in Marcus' direction. There is some time between now and when he will be expected to make his way from the Gallows. He may as well take the proper map for study.
"But you've experience playing at the role of bloodthirsty raider. Good."
no subject
someone else. A first lieutenant he'd known once, maybe. Or some similarly aggravating individual, or an amalgamation of a half dozen. He thinks less of a particular name and moreso on the chafing sensation, nevermind that it is irrational to prickle so here in this moment when Rowntree has been only sensible.
Were their positions reversed, he might make similar remarks.
(They would not be reversed.)
Flint hums a low note in acknowledgement of what Marcus has said rather than address his own displeasure enough to give it form in his expression or gestures. Instead, his hand moves to the edge of the fully rendered chart, fingers encouraging it in Marcus' direction. There is some time between now and when he will be expected to make his way from the Gallows. He may as well take the proper map for study.
"But you've experience playing at the role of bloodthirsty raider. Good."