[ Marcus's attention flicks to the cigarette with still low-key but more sincere interest than the prospect of exciting liquors, identifying a vice he seeks out outside of luring people into social rituals. He nods his thanks and takes the offering, lighting the end with a small, practiced gesture, flames rippling off his fingertips, flickering out.
He brings the cup closer, once filled, but doesn't drink from it yet either. ]
You're a busy man, [ Marcus says. ] I didn't take it personally.
[ He also did not do the rounds, necessarily, nor felt the need to. ]
I've been to the Crossroads, and befriended rifters, and killed snow monsters. Riftwatch has a way of keeping you occupied.
[ Marcus Melts the Monsters. Isaac pinches paper into spark, takes a drag longer than strictly necessary. A chronic case of dramatics, true — and a moment for decision. ]
Busy, [ He agrees. ] Not been so busy as I might. There have been eyes.
[ Better now, as an offering of trust, than someone's inevitable fuckup. His fingers splay, ]
[ Marcus watches him, through smart remark and savouring his cigarette and then the sidewinding approach to a topic at hand. About as easy to dig into as stony ground.
He's done more than humour us, but I've little notion of his end goals,
[ — save that they aren't fueled by the fate of southern circles. if flint's ideals are some piece of this, they will be a piece alone. john silver is chronically wary, terminally oblique; but something in nevarra had touched a true nerve.
flint can't have known. ]
Someone ought to find out.
[ he finally gives the mug an exaggerated sniff... and wrinkles his nose. hm, gross. ]
[ This is delivered straight, so it would seem, but maybe if you're looking for it, there is a glimmer of humour in glance away and down at the prospect of drinking.
Marcus likewise holds the cup under his nose for a moment, but does close the deal with a sip. It's-- fine. ]
Since the war, I've noted that while some're willing to entertain the notion of mages living outside of captivity, when the issue is forced, [ or, when weeks later, an Abomination explodes in the Gallows ] they'll take the path of least resistance.
Among our own, as well. [ He is thinking of Kostos, but it's an open sort of statement. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He brings the cup closer, once filled, but doesn't drink from it yet either. ]
You're a busy man, [ Marcus says. ] I didn't take it personally.
[ He also did not do the rounds, necessarily, nor felt the need to. ]
I've been to the Crossroads, and befriended rifters, and killed snow monsters. Riftwatch has a way of keeping you occupied.
no subject
[ Marcus Melts the Monsters. Isaac pinches paper into spark, takes a drag longer than strictly necessary. A chronic case of dramatics, true — and a moment for decision. ]
Busy, [ He agrees. ] Not been so busy as I might. There have been eyes.
[ Better now, as an offering of trust, than someone's inevitable fuckup. His fingers splay, ]
Not on me. Near enough to warrant caution.
no subject
He asks; ] Whose?
[ Direct, but in a sort of permissive fashion. ]
no subject
[ if the constant, tiresome little pissing matches with leander are any indication — well. it isn't so hard to guess where that knife went.
he's no closer to drinking. ]
no subject
[ A pause, and he clarifies; ]
More than one might, usually, for mundane humans empowered for their skills in spying and negotiation.
no subject
[ not that flint can have helped from the goodness of his heart ]
And the Provost will prioritize holding his position. At the Grand Cathedral he asked me how best to placate our people.
[ more or less. ]
whoops where did this go from my inbox
He's heard it before. ]
I'm told the Commander holds sympathy for the cause, [ while on the subject of division heads. ] I had wondered if he only considers it useful.
to age like fine wine (the kind u buy in a box)
[ fingers splay about the mug, ]
He's done more than humour us, but I've little notion of his end goals,
[ — save that they aren't fueled by the fate of southern circles. if flint's ideals are some piece of this, they will be a piece alone. john silver is chronically wary, terminally oblique; but something in nevarra had touched a true nerve.
flint can't have known. ]
Someone ought to find out.
[ he finally gives the mug an exaggerated sniff... and wrinkles his nose. hm, gross. ]
delicious
[ This is delivered straight, so it would seem, but maybe if you're looking for it, there is a glimmer of humour in glance away and down at the prospect of drinking.
Marcus likewise holds the cup under his nose for a moment, but does close the deal with a sip. It's-- fine. ]
Since the war, I've noted that while some're willing to entertain the notion of mages living outside of captivity, when the issue is forced, [ or, when weeks later, an Abomination explodes in the Gallows ] they'll take the path of least resistance.
Among our own, as well. [ He is thinking of Kostos, but it's an open sort of statement. ]