[He meets that coolness and distance with disdain, teeth and claws out, ready to draw blood while the weaker, wounded parts of himself pull deeper inside him. Shoulders squared and chin tipped up, it's as though what happened in and around and the cave was never more than a sweat-soaked dream and he hadn't left feeling shaken and unbalanced. But the resentment in his eyes says otherwise.
He lifts his seven bladed sword to point at him with it. Gloved hand squeaking as it tightens around the hilt.]
What did you tell her?
[It's not like Hector to hurt her, not even out of spite for him. But he needs to hear it, needs to search his face for any trace of a lie if and when he says it.]
no subject
He lifts his seven bladed sword to point at him with it. Gloved hand squeaking as it tightens around the hilt.]
What did you tell her?
[It's not like Hector to hurt her, not even out of spite for him. But he needs to hear it, needs to search his face for any trace of a lie if and when he says it.]