The military huh? [Greed lets his skull lull to the side, as if he's taken an interest in something beyond Kimbley and not the man himself. It's the last nail in the proverbial coffin, the one truth to make it all stick:]
[No one he knew had any desire to return to the military. Good deal or not.]
[The Sin's fingers wrap around the lip of his scotch as his ankles unlace beneath the secrecy of the table. No - Kimbley couldn't have worked for him. Not in his lifetime, not with his own set of standards. His were outcasts; those that couldn't dabble in the normal life above. They took to shadow and stayed without complaint.]
[Whoever Kimbley is, wherever he came from? It certainly isn't from the same world.] Must have been a pretty good deal - [Greed trails off, not without a reverberating noise sticking to his throat like glue. His upper lip lifts with a slight sneer while his torso bends and his shoulders sink.] - I don't let go of mine so easily.
[There's more people coming in now, though the definition of "people" is vague and simple at best. Most hide in their layers, others are more plain. Stark. A nice change of pace, all things concerned. He's never found a need to lie about it, never found the point. Greed's dangerous look is a mixture of wonder and pleasantries as he slowly nudges the bottom of the table.]
I'm not interested in someone who isn't a little loyal. [His eyes roll under his sunglasses, catching light as they pass. The shivering of stone at the corners steal from the fire, turning the black of his shades aglow. Similar to newly-freshened coal. He snaps his tongue across the roof of his mouth and eases up a shrug.] A shame, though.
Guess you and I won't be good friends, will we? [The ice in the glass rattles as he twirls his wrist. Dangerous territory, he's reminded. If one of his turned to the military, well.]
[One can only speculate.] Eh- [Greed waves his fingers and takes another pull. Again, the glass is drained halfway deep before he sets it down again.] - I'm also not really interested in the trouble. I'd rather do this peacefully, hmn? [But as he talks, the tips of his nails quake. Dragging off the stone of his hand inch by terribly-screeching inch.] After all, if anything I do consider myself fair.
no subject
[No one he knew had any desire to return to the military. Good deal or not.]
[The Sin's fingers wrap around the lip of his scotch as his ankles unlace beneath the secrecy of the table. No - Kimbley couldn't have worked for him. Not in his lifetime, not with his own set of standards. His were outcasts; those that couldn't dabble in the normal life above. They took to shadow and stayed without complaint.]
[Whoever Kimbley is, wherever he came from? It certainly isn't from the same world.] Must have been a pretty good deal - [Greed trails off, not without a reverberating noise sticking to his throat like glue. His upper lip lifts with a slight sneer while his torso bends and his shoulders sink.] - I don't let go of mine so easily.
[There's more people coming in now, though the definition of "people" is vague and simple at best. Most hide in their layers, others are more plain. Stark. A nice change of pace, all things concerned. He's never found a need to lie about it, never found the point. Greed's dangerous look is a mixture of wonder and pleasantries as he slowly nudges the bottom of the table.]
I'm not interested in someone who isn't a little loyal. [His eyes roll under his sunglasses, catching light as they pass. The shivering of stone at the corners steal from the fire, turning the black of his shades aglow. Similar to newly-freshened coal. He snaps his tongue across the roof of his mouth and eases up a shrug.] A shame, though.
Guess you and I won't be good friends, will we? [The ice in the glass rattles as he twirls his wrist. Dangerous territory, he's reminded. If one of his turned to the military, well.]
[One can only speculate.] Eh- [Greed waves his fingers and takes another pull. Again, the glass is drained halfway deep before he sets it down again.] - I'm also not really interested in the trouble. I'd rather do this peacefully, hmn? [But as he talks, the tips of his nails quake. Dragging off the stone of his hand inch by terribly-screeching inch.] After all, if anything I do consider myself fair.