No. [ John agrees, feeling heat run through him, from the mead, from the proximity, from the fire in Dresden's words. He can set fire to a building with them, and he can apparently set John's nerves alight just as easily. His control is unraveling, but if this conversation is about anything, it's about why that's all right. He steeples his fingers and rests them against his lips, a soft chuckle at the very back of his throat. ] No, we are not like them. I wondered if you knew. I've said before-- given enough time, Harry, you usually figure things out.
[ More mead into the tumblers. Harry looks like he needs it, and John-- John starts laughing aloud, a rumble from the back of his throat, accidentally let loose from the cage of his white-toothed smile. ] Do you know... I haven't gotten drunk since... It has to be at least five years now. Maybe longer. One of the many things I gave up. [ His smile gets wistful. ]
Our debts are getting complicated, don't you think? You must keep track as carefully as I do, given how many times we've done that dance. [ He shifts, out of his folded leg position into a recline, weight on his elbow on the table top, suddenly a predator at rest. A tiger might laze like this if you plied it with enough drink and food. ] But the numbers don't run right, do they? What is the price of my dagger's accuracy on a full moon and what's the market value of your mercy in Wisconsin? That I averted your fate to die with the ghouls, does that pay for my rescue on the island?
[ A sip, then with the glass still in hand, John waves his finger in Harry's face. ] If your signature on the Accords paperwork was so expensive, does giving you this night of safety even that score? You must have an answer; you never walk through my doors without payment in mind. What are the scales at, Harry?
I know the legacy of my position in this city, the importance of the numbers, and no one is putting me away for fucking tax evasion like Capone. [ And the idea of it is hilarious to John, the crows' feet around his eyes out in full force. ]
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timeasmymeasure
/SCREAMS INTO KNEES
Date: 2012-10-30 05:16 am (UTC)[ More mead into the tumblers. Harry looks like he needs it, and John-- John starts laughing aloud, a rumble from the back of his throat, accidentally let loose from the cage of his white-toothed smile. ] Do you know... I haven't gotten drunk since... It has to be at least five years now. Maybe longer. One of the many things I gave up. [ His smile gets wistful. ]
Our debts are getting complicated, don't you think? You must keep track as carefully as I do, given how many times we've done that dance. [ He shifts, out of his folded leg position into a recline, weight on his elbow on the table top, suddenly a predator at rest. A tiger might laze like this if you plied it with enough drink and food. ] But the numbers don't run right, do they? What is the price of my dagger's accuracy on a full moon and what's the market value of your mercy in Wisconsin? That I averted your fate to die with the ghouls, does that pay for my rescue on the island?
[ A sip, then with the glass still in hand, John waves his finger in Harry's face. ] If your signature on the Accords paperwork was so expensive, does giving you this night of safety even that score? You must have an answer; you never walk through my doors without payment in mind. What are the scales at, Harry?
I know the legacy of my position in this city, the importance of the numbers, and no one is putting me away for fucking tax evasion like Capone. [ And the idea of it is hilarious to John, the crows' feet around his eyes out in full force. ]