[ He woke up at the Station with the second member of their brood, and had grown to know scraps and shreds of information about the first - the one who had arrived before them. The Darkling doesn't have to pretend he can imagine what it must have felt like for Clint, to be the only one of his "kind" aboard the Station. Not even a little. And here they finally are, after hours - no, days? - of dancing around one another's presence.
He meets him in the kitchen. Neutral ground, hardly intimate or personal, considering the foot traffic that travels through it at odd hours of the day. The Darkling has his thumbs dug into some... pomegranate-looking fruit, something hard and full of juice, and is extracting the innards of it of it over the sink. What a mess. He lifts his head from his task, when Clint finally arrives. ]
This enemy of ours travels fast, it seems. [ They've arrived only, what? Days apart? ] You're not happy about it?
hawkbro.......
He meets him in the kitchen. Neutral ground, hardly intimate or personal, considering the foot traffic that travels through it at odd hours of the day. The Darkling has his thumbs dug into some... pomegranate-looking fruit, something hard and full of juice, and is extracting the innards of it of it over the sink. What a mess. He lifts his head from his task, when Clint finally arrives. ]
This enemy of ours travels fast, it seems. [ They've arrived only, what? Days apart? ] You're not happy about it?