[ Harry doesn't like it any more than you do, John. Yet he's as unable to break away, to end it. Like the act of ending it was the proverbial weakness that neither of them could afford to show each other. Teeth worry at his bottom lip, and his eyes stray from John's to where they are nearly a bridge across the table. Barely inches apart. Who might back off? Why wouldn't he want to? Why wasn't he? ]
[ The mead is working its way through him, steady as poison, loosening his tongue, unraveling the emotions he kept knotted up and stashed under the foundations. He picks the hand up that was closest to the other man's, beckons between the two of them again, trying not to look in his green-as-green-is eyes, because when he does he can still remember the layout of his soul. Harry swallows. ] We're not anything like that. Don't put yourself on their level, and don't you compare yourself to them. Don't you dare.
[ It's right before he thinks he's going to go for Marcone's throat that the man chooses to finish off his drink, and with another faint snarl of frustration, Harry retrieves his glass and buries his nose in the bottom of it. ] Sniffer dog. It's a glorified sniffer dog with my scent, and your Title is big and fancy and important enough to serve as a big fucking clothespin. I wasn't going to have it tracking me back to anyone else, their influence isn't as strong. I made you Baron, and yeah - that was my own fault.
You didn't come cheap. And I'll get my money's worth out of you. [ He states it as low and vicious as he can, like he's capable of such ruthless actions. But the fire in his eyes doesn't back his words, and they fall flat between the pair. Such a poor liar; but he tries so hard to believe in that lie, because he makes it to himself. ]
gnrghr i can manage only inarticulate noises!
[ The mead is working its way through him, steady as poison, loosening his tongue, unraveling the emotions he kept knotted up and stashed under the foundations. He picks the hand up that was closest to the other man's, beckons between the two of them again, trying not to look in his green-as-green-is eyes, because when he does he can still remember the layout of his soul. Harry swallows. ] We're not anything like that. Don't put yourself on their level, and don't you compare yourself to them. Don't you dare.
[ It's right before he thinks he's going to go for Marcone's throat that the man chooses to finish off his drink, and with another faint snarl of frustration, Harry retrieves his glass and buries his nose in the bottom of it. ] Sniffer dog. It's a glorified sniffer dog with my scent, and your Title is big and fancy and important enough to serve as a big fucking clothespin. I wasn't going to have it tracking me back to anyone else, their influence isn't as strong. I made you Baron, and yeah - that was my own fault.
You didn't come cheap. And I'll get my money's worth out of you. [ He states it as low and vicious as he can, like he's capable of such ruthless actions. But the fire in his eyes doesn't back his words, and they fall flat between the pair. Such a poor liar; but he tries so hard to believe in that lie, because he makes it to himself. ]