[ For a long second he looks at her blank-faced, betraying nothing. Cosplay.
His mouth sets. ] It's bespoke. [ He says, plucking absently at his jacket cuff. He thinks of all the blood it's soaked up, of men who clutched at his boots and begged. ] To things I did. Choices.
no subject
His mouth sets. ] It's bespoke. [ He says, plucking absently at his jacket cuff. He thinks of all the blood it's soaked up, of men who clutched at his boots and begged. ] To things I did. Choices.
Are you stalling? [ It's asked gently. ]