[ Rust is calm; more than that he's settled, staring down a task that'll demand what it will of him.
He's coiling a rope, the movements so rhythmic as to be hypnotic. ] (This is a win-win.) [ Incredulity tints the words—he hadn't thought they'd be necessary. ]
(We succeed, we have a reputation to trade on. We fail, well, find yourself a shoulder to cry on or somebody to lord it over you.
The only thing can fuck this up is ego.) [ He glances to Shiro, to the lone burst of color pinned among the grays and blacks of his robes. His attention half question, half challenge.
II
He's coiling a rope, the movements so rhythmic as to be hypnotic. ] ( This is a win-win. ) [ Incredulity tints the words—he hadn't thought they'd be necessary. ]
( We succeed, we have a reputation to trade on. We fail, well, find yourself a shoulder to cry on or somebody to lord it over you.
The only thing can fuck this up is ego. ) [ He glances to Shiro, to the lone burst of color pinned among the grays and blacks of his robes. His attention half question, half challenge.
His hands keep on working the rope. ]