[ For a moment he doesn't differentiate—Juno's mind another text, a lexicon of shattered glass and open wounds. Its pull irresistible. Cyclops, the name an empty socket, a deformation. Rust thinks: Polyphemus, Odin. A bloody eye bobbing at the surface of a well. A ripple of self-mockery that dissipates as Juno flashes his (his?) credentials.
Official-like. As if Rust wasn't in the thick of his thoughts, guilt and self-loathing pressing in. He hesitates. He's as mistrustful as Juno, in his way—sure as shit doesn't want any of the older hosts finding out about this, anyone far enough gone to prize the good of the nest above all. But the PI license—more importantly, Juno's faith in it, that scrap of paper—screams newcomer.
And Rust wants to get back to it. ]
(Books.) [ That'd be enough to make Marty reconsider. ] (Nothing sexy. You're still interested, know that this is very much off the record.) [ There's something else—a matter of nerves more than observation, like the creeping awareness you're being watched. He snatches at it a second too late. ]
no subject
Official-like. As if Rust wasn't in the thick of his thoughts, guilt and self-loathing pressing in. He hesitates. He's as mistrustful as Juno, in his way—sure as shit doesn't want any of the older hosts finding out about this, anyone far enough gone to prize the good of the nest above all. But the PI license—more importantly, Juno's faith in it, that scrap of paper—screams newcomer.
And Rust wants to get back to it. ]
( Books. ) [ That'd be enough to make Marty reconsider. ] ( Nothing sexy. You're still interested, know that this is very much off the record. ) [ There's something else—a matter of nerves more than observation, like the creeping awareness you're being watched. He snatches at it a second too late. ]