[ Oh. That made an impression, didn't it? Sharkface laughs. It comes out soft, though his expression is sharp and a little wild. It feels like he's crossed one of those lines the sergeant was always warning him about. Watch your six. Watch your people. Only he doesn't have people anymore. Just rooms and rooms of strangers he hasn't decided to mark up yet. Enemy, ally, it really doesn't matter. One day, one day he'll finish his mission and none of this will matter anymore. The games, the deceptions. All these people. He's got broken glass in his hand, one shard a bit longer than the rest, and that's the one he'll use if it comes down to that.
He gives it a squeeze. Barely feels it when the skin breaks. ]
You'll live.
[ She'll adapt, is what he means. He feels a little insane then, catching on the edges of the moment. He's gone too long out of armor, let people see his face and think they know him. And it's turned, now. Gone wrong. This was fun in the beginning, wasn't it? He thinks it was fun. The talking, the way her gold eyes had gone bright to match her grin. The way he could match her, blow for verbal fucking blow, and play the moment like a game. No harm, no foul. Even some tequila to make it interesting. Not anymore. He tried pretending but then he lost the thread; she's seen him. And there's no undoing that now. ]
You'll live.
[ He's quieter when he repeats it, though his good eye is still narrowed tight. He's lost the thread. Probably lost her as an ally. You fucking psychopath. Look what you did. Look what you did in front of these nice people. ]
cw for self harm
He gives it a squeeze. Barely feels it when the skin breaks. ]
You'll live.
[ She'll adapt, is what he means. He feels a little insane then, catching on the edges of the moment. He's gone too long out of armor, let people see his face and think they know him. And it's turned, now. Gone wrong. This was fun in the beginning, wasn't it? He thinks it was fun. The talking, the way her gold eyes had gone bright to match her grin. The way he could match her, blow for verbal fucking blow, and play the moment like a game. No harm, no foul. Even some tequila to make it interesting. Not anymore. He tried pretending but then he lost the thread; she's seen him. And there's no undoing that now. ]
You'll live.
[ He's quieter when he repeats it, though his good eye is still narrowed tight. He's lost the thread. Probably lost her as an ally. You fucking psychopath. Look what you did. Look what you did in front of these nice people. ]