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"Wouldn't be much of a place, though I'm not really keen on letting it get too messy," Greed replied, even as his hands idly went to work. A small glint of the teeth ignited up his jaw and his knuckles wrapped soundless around the neck of a rum bottle. It was hidden underneath, lodged deep inside the bar for safe keeping. "And no, I don't. But sometimes, people will surprise you. But you wouldn't be here if you didn't already know - this isn't exactly a place for the normal sort."
The rum bottle removed was old and definitely not from the current century. The faded label on the side painted a picture of a well-worn mermaid coiled around a barely-legible anchor. Greed flicked out an index and the tip coaxed to a smooth, black sheen. Where a nail used to a be, a crooked-talon shivered to a point. He twisted his wrist, slicing the metal clasp in one, quick motion. The butt of his palm pressed into the tinny cap, nudging it free with a sullen pop.
"Speaking from experience?" The homunculus collected the remnants of the clasp, bringing up and into his palm as the coating on his skin receded away. It crawled like oil, slipping down until it was only flesh and blood left. With his other hand, Greed flipped a glass out from underneath. The lip of it spun through his fingers, righting itself until he sat it down on the bar with a hollow thunk. "Not that I care - not about to deny anyone. Wouldn't really be me if I did."
From the bottle, a rich liquid flowed. Hefty, dark and spicy with age. It was probably bottled somewhere closer to the turn of the century. Before two wars split the world and a new order sprung forth. It still stood, a gift from the past. Greed filled the portion out to the brim, running his thumb across the edge of the glass to make it sing in a humming dissonance. "Ah, right - that's a little rude."
Greed sat the bottle down, cleaning off his hand with a swipe at his thigh. He touched his collarbone gingerly, bending a bit to make a mockery of a bow. And all the while, his grin spread; his eyebrows pressed. As the tips of his fingers scissored off his bones:
"The name's Greed - it's a pleasure."
The rum bottle removed was old and definitely not from the current century. The faded label on the side painted a picture of a well-worn mermaid coiled around a barely-legible anchor. Greed flicked out an index and the tip coaxed to a smooth, black sheen. Where a nail used to a be, a crooked-talon shivered to a point. He twisted his wrist, slicing the metal clasp in one, quick motion. The butt of his palm pressed into the tinny cap, nudging it free with a sullen pop.
"Speaking from experience?" The homunculus collected the remnants of the clasp, bringing up and into his palm as the coating on his skin receded away. It crawled like oil, slipping down until it was only flesh and blood left. With his other hand, Greed flipped a glass out from underneath. The lip of it spun through his fingers, righting itself until he sat it down on the bar with a hollow thunk. "Not that I care - not about to deny anyone. Wouldn't really be me if I did."
From the bottle, a rich liquid flowed. Hefty, dark and spicy with age. It was probably bottled somewhere closer to the turn of the century. Before two wars split the world and a new order sprung forth. It still stood, a gift from the past. Greed filled the portion out to the brim, running his thumb across the edge of the glass to make it sing in a humming dissonance. "Ah, right - that's a little rude."
Greed sat the bottle down, cleaning off his hand with a swipe at his thigh. He touched his collarbone gingerly, bending a bit to make a mockery of a bow. And all the while, his grin spread; his eyebrows pressed. As the tips of his fingers scissored off his bones:
"The name's Greed - it's a pleasure."
Gabriel smirked- his host was right on that point. This wasn't a place for normal people, of course normal was sort of a misnomer, because there really was no such thing. Still, there were people even more removed from the status quo that others. "That's what I heard. And I thought I might come find out for myself."
He watches the talon scratch, the pointed tip not only lifting the cap without any trouble at all, but leaving the smallest nick in the glass itself- no small feat and Gabriel is quietly impressed. Werewolf? No. He's meet enough of those to know the aura they radiate, and despite the coiled spring of power in the barman's muscles, there is too much control...
He shrugs at the question of experience. He knows he doesn't have to answer- not out of secrecy, but because he has the vague feeling that the man-shaped creature across from him is old enough to have seen some of the world, and be able to answer his own question. Once you get to a certain age, there aren't many surprises left and you know how things work.
Gabriel smirks at the bow, and gestures for Greed to come and join him. He briefly wonders if it's a nickname, a descriptive, but he doesn't ask. And for the moment, he doesn't provide a name himself. There's not need, for the moment, for him to be anything other than an anonymous patron.
"That looks like the good stuff. Join me for a glass." He offers. "And you can tell me know long this place has been here." Because that is something Gabriel is interested to find out. This bar seems timeless, like it sits outside of the current fashions and trends of New York and the wider world, but likewise, he's sure that it wasn't here the last time he was here. Then again, there were a lot of things that weren't here last time.
He watches the talon scratch, the pointed tip not only lifting the cap without any trouble at all, but leaving the smallest nick in the glass itself- no small feat and Gabriel is quietly impressed. Werewolf? No. He's meet enough of those to know the aura they radiate, and despite the coiled spring of power in the barman's muscles, there is too much control...
He shrugs at the question of experience. He knows he doesn't have to answer- not out of secrecy, but because he has the vague feeling that the man-shaped creature across from him is old enough to have seen some of the world, and be able to answer his own question. Once you get to a certain age, there aren't many surprises left and you know how things work.
Gabriel smirks at the bow, and gestures for Greed to come and join him. He briefly wonders if it's a nickname, a descriptive, but he doesn't ask. And for the moment, he doesn't provide a name himself. There's not need, for the moment, for him to be anything other than an anonymous patron.
"That looks like the good stuff. Join me for a glass." He offers. "And you can tell me know long this place has been here." Because that is something Gabriel is interested to find out. This bar seems timeless, like it sits outside of the current fashions and trends of New York and the wider world, but likewise, he's sure that it wasn't here the last time he was here. Then again, there were a lot of things that weren't here last time.
Greed's eyebrow raised when Gabriel avoided the question, but he didn't need to press the issue. Everyone in the 'Nest had a story and sometimes, it was better not to ask too many questions. Instead, he shrugged - sending one shoulder up lazily in a silent answer. He didn't need to know; wouldn't have to know. Whether or not the other man become a frequenter or not, secrets were secrets.
And secrets never came cheap.
However, his smile split as soon as the other coaxed him on. A flash of teeth riding up one side of his jaw, the twist of it more akin to an angler grinning in the deep, deep depths. He sent one hand up, his fingers twisting to beckon someone on cue. A woman came to his call, her lips thick and budding. She regarded Gabriel with a faint look of suspicion, then decided against it. The Boss knew what he was doing.
At least he did most of the time. "Take over lovely, got business to take care of," Greed charmed back in, his voice sickly-sweet and deadly. A purr held in his throat, riding on a long string of R(s) that stretched on for a few lingering minutes. He slipped past her, grazing the small of her back with his elbow. A warning, a gesture, a conversation:
Keep an eye out for trouble.
The bottle came with him, the neck of it swept up in the thick of his knuckles. He exited along the side, pushing the door ajar with a prod of his hip. A few sharp clicks of his heel and a sauntering walk had him at Gabriel quicker than expected and Greed took the seat closest. He saddled his heel into one of the rungs, reaching blinded behind him for a glass. "Hmn?" He perked, one eyebrow cocked above the frames of his shades. His lower lip sagged before he belted out a quick, hard laugh. It hissed from his jaws, as noxious as the smoke that lingered in thinning shreds overhead. "Longer than most," an answer, but vague.
The bottle tipped into the glass, the opening burping as liquor sloshed and slapped the inside of the glass. Filled to the brim, he sat the rest back down with a heavy thud. "-but if you really have to know, it's been about a hundred years."
And secrets never came cheap.
However, his smile split as soon as the other coaxed him on. A flash of teeth riding up one side of his jaw, the twist of it more akin to an angler grinning in the deep, deep depths. He sent one hand up, his fingers twisting to beckon someone on cue. A woman came to his call, her lips thick and budding. She regarded Gabriel with a faint look of suspicion, then decided against it. The Boss knew what he was doing.
At least he did most of the time. "Take over lovely, got business to take care of," Greed charmed back in, his voice sickly-sweet and deadly. A purr held in his throat, riding on a long string of R(s) that stretched on for a few lingering minutes. He slipped past her, grazing the small of her back with his elbow. A warning, a gesture, a conversation:
Keep an eye out for trouble.
The bottle came with him, the neck of it swept up in the thick of his knuckles. He exited along the side, pushing the door ajar with a prod of his hip. A few sharp clicks of his heel and a sauntering walk had him at Gabriel quicker than expected and Greed took the seat closest. He saddled his heel into one of the rungs, reaching blinded behind him for a glass. "Hmn?" He perked, one eyebrow cocked above the frames of his shades. His lower lip sagged before he belted out a quick, hard laugh. It hissed from his jaws, as noxious as the smoke that lingered in thinning shreds overhead. "Longer than most," an answer, but vague.
The bottle tipped into the glass, the opening burping as liquor sloshed and slapped the inside of the glass. Filled to the brim, he sat the rest back down with a heavy thud. "-but if you really have to know, it's been about a hundred years."
[ Lightning silently berated herself as she was led through dark, dimly-lit hallways, the stone walls cold and damp to the touch, completely bare except for the occasional basic iron strut for a wooden torch. She doesn't know how far underground this cellar extends to, or if anyone could find her - if the church would even bother to attempt to rescue her. Had she'd been captured and brought anywhere else, they would had made some sort of attempt of a rescue, even if it was only for show. But here, in the heart of enemy territory, a prisoner in the dungeons of very headquarters? They'd probably written her off for dead and were preparing to send their condolences to her sister.
And it was her fault - a brief moment, where she had let down her guard, where exhaustion seeped into her bones and her focus wavered - only a moment, but that had been all they had needed. Even if she was a demon hunter, she was still only one woman, and she could only hold out for so long. Now she was their prisoner, arms bound behind her and pondering over the command given to her captors by their leader, as he had looked her over as she'd glared up at him, defiant and proud even in defeat, and his lip curled in amusement as he laughed.
Leave her with our other guest. I'm sure they'll enjoy each others company.
Who else was here? Lightning hadn't heard of anyone else being captured - at least, not captured alive. But her question is soon answered, as the knots tying her hands are loosened before she's thrown face first into her cell - which, to her surprise, is surprisingly spacious. Refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing her cry out, she still can't hold back a sharp grunt as skin scrapes against stone but that's enough to them. She hears them bark a laugh as the door behind her clicks shut, before their footsteps and harsh, barking laughter grow fainter and fainter.
There's someone in here with her, of course, and she tries to figure out who, while she works her hands free as her eyes adjust to the darkness, trying make sense of the shadows. Unlike her, as she slips free, wrists red and raw from the rope rubbing against them, they're still bound - and, it seems, the reason why the cell is so large. A massive crucifix towers in the room, made of either stone or metal; it's hard to tell exactly what, with its surface darkened with age and pitted with runes and inscriptions. And hanging on that stone cross, is a man - arms spread open, pinned to the object with heavy, steel chains, each link covered in painstakingly chiseled runes.
It seems rather overkill for a mere human - but as she pushes herself up from the stone floor, her hand brushes against a carved rune into the floor that flickers at her touch; the letters and shapes light up briefly, revealing the cell completely etched with symbols and letters of binding, disturbed as if she'd thrown a stone into a still pond, before fading back into darkness.
And she recognizes some of these runes and symbols, bits and pieces of inscriptions. She's used them in her work, in hunting her quarry and prey; to bind and trap them before ultimately destroying them. ]
Demon!
[ Lightning spits out the word as if it were a curse, springing to her feet as she reaches for a weapon that's no longer there to strike him down. Too late, she bitterly remembers that of course they'd stripped her of all her weapons; all she can do is crouch against the ground and glare at the bound devil, looking as if she'd love to spit in his face. ]
And it was her fault - a brief moment, where she had let down her guard, where exhaustion seeped into her bones and her focus wavered - only a moment, but that had been all they had needed. Even if she was a demon hunter, she was still only one woman, and she could only hold out for so long. Now she was their prisoner, arms bound behind her and pondering over the command given to her captors by their leader, as he had looked her over as she'd glared up at him, defiant and proud even in defeat, and his lip curled in amusement as he laughed.
Leave her with our other guest. I'm sure they'll enjoy each others company.
Who else was here? Lightning hadn't heard of anyone else being captured - at least, not captured alive. But her question is soon answered, as the knots tying her hands are loosened before she's thrown face first into her cell - which, to her surprise, is surprisingly spacious. Refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing her cry out, she still can't hold back a sharp grunt as skin scrapes against stone but that's enough to them. She hears them bark a laugh as the door behind her clicks shut, before their footsteps and harsh, barking laughter grow fainter and fainter.
There's someone in here with her, of course, and she tries to figure out who, while she works her hands free as her eyes adjust to the darkness, trying make sense of the shadows. Unlike her, as she slips free, wrists red and raw from the rope rubbing against them, they're still bound - and, it seems, the reason why the cell is so large. A massive crucifix towers in the room, made of either stone or metal; it's hard to tell exactly what, with its surface darkened with age and pitted with runes and inscriptions. And hanging on that stone cross, is a man - arms spread open, pinned to the object with heavy, steel chains, each link covered in painstakingly chiseled runes.
It seems rather overkill for a mere human - but as she pushes herself up from the stone floor, her hand brushes against a carved rune into the floor that flickers at her touch; the letters and shapes light up briefly, revealing the cell completely etched with symbols and letters of binding, disturbed as if she'd thrown a stone into a still pond, before fading back into darkness.
And she recognizes some of these runes and symbols, bits and pieces of inscriptions. She's used them in her work, in hunting her quarry and prey; to bind and trap them before ultimately destroying them. ]
Demon!
[ Lightning spits out the word as if it were a curse, springing to her feet as she reaches for a weapon that's no longer there to strike him down. Too late, she bitterly remembers that of course they'd stripped her of all her weapons; all she can do is crouch against the ground and glare at the bound devil, looking as if she'd love to spit in his face. ]
[The links of chain are slick and damp. As they shift amorphously in the dark, like a swarm of eels writhing in the after muck of a midnight low tide. The smell this far down is rank with sulfur and earth, the pungent taste of wet permeating through without a foreseen source. Where ever she is, where ever they are, its far below ground and deeper still than most man made structures would allow.]
[Something buried, something hidden. And all for one purpose only.]
[The sudden jolt of the runes is what alerts him first; sparks of light run across the length of the cross, only to dart in a horizontal line. Similar to fire following a trial of gunpowder, the abysmal red brightens then fades. It temporarily hones his jagged features that much sharper before shadows take him again, washing back in as the faint hum vanishes with one last sputtering hiss.]
[Greed doesn't know how long he's been down here. Days, months, years. His joints are stiff with disuse. He can feel the slight twitch in his fingers, his senses rebooting once again. The chains are his throat feel clammy against his skin, but as he slowly crawls out of his half-dazed stupor, the metal links start to sizzle. Threatening protective magic against his own, insatiable want.]
Now, that's not very nice - [The Sin answers in a drawl. His voice is airy and loft; the vocal chords finding themselves with the prolonged disuse. He tests his wrist as he speaks, twisting it until the chain link finally constricts his movement to a still. It's then that his eyes ease open and the color is telling of what he really is; a deep purple, faded with a haunting kind of hue. They blare through the dark and light spills against the pale-tan color of his skin. Greed lulls his head to he side, the chains rattling and tightening to the pull: the charm of Marley's ghost.]
- but you're right. Though, I figured you wouldn't really hold it against me. It's not like they gave you much of a choice either and I'm gunna guess it's pretty safe to assume you aren't working on their side. Did I get that right?
[The instinct to grab for a weapon gives her away, her placement in the cell only adding to the fact. Either she's done something to upset the higher ranks or, more than likely, she's from an opposite faction. Walking too close to a den of wolves and now, here they are.]
[The demon tests his binds again, listening as metal clinks and clacks. A sharp hiss cuts through the static, the four blades lodged expertly into his body shivering as his own electrical current tries to fend off the intrusion. The action proves to no avail; whoever placed him down here knew what they were doing. A weak point, the proverbial Achilles heel and they found all four.]
[He turns his head down to look at her again, a small grin slicing a line of white in the dark. The lids of his eyes fall heavy, his expression sultry despite the obvious predicament.] Before you start getting any wild ideas, I'm not like the rest. Try not to do anything too brash, hmn?
[A droplet ploops in a puddle nearby; a rat answers with a shrill squeak. Greed rocks his shoulder, feeling it press and stiffen against his stone slab.] So - what's your name, lovely?
[Something buried, something hidden. And all for one purpose only.]
[The sudden jolt of the runes is what alerts him first; sparks of light run across the length of the cross, only to dart in a horizontal line. Similar to fire following a trial of gunpowder, the abysmal red brightens then fades. It temporarily hones his jagged features that much sharper before shadows take him again, washing back in as the faint hum vanishes with one last sputtering hiss.]
[Greed doesn't know how long he's been down here. Days, months, years. His joints are stiff with disuse. He can feel the slight twitch in his fingers, his senses rebooting once again. The chains are his throat feel clammy against his skin, but as he slowly crawls out of his half-dazed stupor, the metal links start to sizzle. Threatening protective magic against his own, insatiable want.]
Now, that's not very nice - [The Sin answers in a drawl. His voice is airy and loft; the vocal chords finding themselves with the prolonged disuse. He tests his wrist as he speaks, twisting it until the chain link finally constricts his movement to a still. It's then that his eyes ease open and the color is telling of what he really is; a deep purple, faded with a haunting kind of hue. They blare through the dark and light spills against the pale-tan color of his skin. Greed lulls his head to he side, the chains rattling and tightening to the pull: the charm of Marley's ghost.]
- but you're right. Though, I figured you wouldn't really hold it against me. It's not like they gave you much of a choice either and I'm gunna guess it's pretty safe to assume you aren't working on their side. Did I get that right?
[The instinct to grab for a weapon gives her away, her placement in the cell only adding to the fact. Either she's done something to upset the higher ranks or, more than likely, she's from an opposite faction. Walking too close to a den of wolves and now, here they are.]
[The demon tests his binds again, listening as metal clinks and clacks. A sharp hiss cuts through the static, the four blades lodged expertly into his body shivering as his own electrical current tries to fend off the intrusion. The action proves to no avail; whoever placed him down here knew what they were doing. A weak point, the proverbial Achilles heel and they found all four.]
[He turns his head down to look at her again, a small grin slicing a line of white in the dark. The lids of his eyes fall heavy, his expression sultry despite the obvious predicament.] Before you start getting any wild ideas, I'm not like the rest. Try not to do anything too brash, hmn?
[A droplet ploops in a puddle nearby; a rat answers with a shrill squeak. Greed rocks his shoulder, feeling it press and stiffen against his stone slab.] So - what's your name, lovely?
[ If there's any doubt that they might had chained up a perfectly ordinary human deep underground, it's all chased away the moment he opens his eyes. There's no mistaking the color, even in the dim shadows of their cell; it takes her breath away at first, almost sucked into the deepest, richest purple that any human could ever imagine. If she were lesser willed, a weaker woman, perhaps she would had - but she catches herself, silently turning her mind away from the promises and hints his smoldering gaze holds. ]
I'm not anyone's lovely.
[ Especially not yours, the unspoken words hanging disdainfully in the air. Her fist clenches around the hilt of a gunblade that's not there, as if she'd like nothing more than to strike him down for his boldness, but she straightens herself with the natural grace of a fighter although she doesn't relax. Even with Greed both physically and magically restrained, she remains cautious, tense as a coiled spring, ready to strike at a moment's notice, matching his gaze with her own, a hard and steely ice blue stare. ]
You can call me Lightning.
[ Not her real name of course, like she'd give a demon that - but she'd thrown away her old name when she was forced to leave her childhood behind, to quickly fit into the role that she'd been abruptly thrust into as both caregiver and breadwinner for her and her sister. And so she had chosen 'Lightning' - a strong-sounding, tough name her younger self had thought. ]
So what's yours?
[ Her fingernails dig into her palm as it takes all her control to force herself to speak to him with the barest drop of civility. There's nothing else that she'd like to do more than to heap scorn upon him, accuse him and judge him guilty for the sins he and his brethren have done to humanity, as anyone other hunter surely would had done; that or bite out their own tongue than suffer his presence any longer. But she's trapped here, in the heart of enemy territory, with no hope of rescue - and she can't stay here, as her sister's smile flashes across her memory.
She couldn't leave her sister, not like their parents had. ]
And I'm guessing that you're not their friend if they've got you down here like this.
I'm not anyone's lovely.
[ Especially not yours, the unspoken words hanging disdainfully in the air. Her fist clenches around the hilt of a gunblade that's not there, as if she'd like nothing more than to strike him down for his boldness, but she straightens herself with the natural grace of a fighter although she doesn't relax. Even with Greed both physically and magically restrained, she remains cautious, tense as a coiled spring, ready to strike at a moment's notice, matching his gaze with her own, a hard and steely ice blue stare. ]
You can call me Lightning.
[ Not her real name of course, like she'd give a demon that - but she'd thrown away her old name when she was forced to leave her childhood behind, to quickly fit into the role that she'd been abruptly thrust into as both caregiver and breadwinner for her and her sister. And so she had chosen 'Lightning' - a strong-sounding, tough name her younger self had thought. ]
So what's yours?
[ Her fingernails dig into her palm as it takes all her control to force herself to speak to him with the barest drop of civility. There's nothing else that she'd like to do more than to heap scorn upon him, accuse him and judge him guilty for the sins he and his brethren have done to humanity, as anyone other hunter surely would had done; that or bite out their own tongue than suffer his presence any longer. But she's trapped here, in the heart of enemy territory, with no hope of rescue - and she can't stay here, as her sister's smile flashes across her memory.
She couldn't leave her sister, not like their parents had. ]
And I'm guessing that you're not their friend if they've got you down here like this.
Ah- [An airy sigh escapes him. Churning from deep down in his own proverbial pit as his head jerks and twists to the side. The cool charcoal-black at his throat throbs in thin veins of gold - dim still, but ever-waiting to catch again. The Sin smiles warily and his teeth are more like that of a well-nourished shark; each slipping and sliding into the next in an eerie, white procession.] - right. That was rather rude, wasn't it? The name's Greed -
[A drop of water hits the chains, sizzling on contact. Greed's eyes close shut with a slow, smarmy expression. He hasn't had company in quite some time and the only ones that even dare to come this far down are ordered to do so. Or they have something more to gain. Only once has he had a visit that wasn't on schedule and that had been taken care of swiftly and unjustly. The execution done right outside the chamber door. That had been some time ago, though.]
[To have another prisoner down here, well. That only meant that things up above had taken a turn somewhere.] That's right. You catch on quick. [When he lowers his head, the slick black on his forehead and arms is a little more noticeable. Like paint smears in sharp, rectangular patters - they map out where two sets of horns used to be. Cut off, most likely a jab when he first was thrown into the dank prison. A word of warning: "If you're not with us, then we'll make sure you look the part."]
[Greed snaps his tongue and the chains slither yet again. Despite the momentary lapse, his glance is unyielding and one eyebrow shoots up in a silent response. As if somehow, he saw that smile - if somehow, every thought was as clear as day.] So that's it, huh. Sorry, couldn't help but notice. [His neck bends, offering him a better look-see. The bindings around his throat tense when he gets too far, earning a slight grunt.] There is a way out, y'know.
[Of course, the way out comes at a price. And that's all too clear with the Sin's expression - as his mouth widens, glinting in an grin like the Cheshire just waiting, waiting, waiting. "Didn't see me Alice? Oh, so sorry, so sorry. Why don't we see just how far this rabbit hole goes, hmn?"]
I've got a proposition for you, lov - [Greed swallows and a curt-cut laugh hisses from his teeth. It trails off in a twiddle; as the forks of his tongue rattle and vibrate against the smooth-side of his jaw.] - Lightning. You get me down and I'll show you the way out. Equivalent exchange. [A loud snap sounds off, his thumb connecting against the underside of his palm. Like a match to a box, his curved talon scrapes and sparks.]
Sounds fair, no?
[A drop of water hits the chains, sizzling on contact. Greed's eyes close shut with a slow, smarmy expression. He hasn't had company in quite some time and the only ones that even dare to come this far down are ordered to do so. Or they have something more to gain. Only once has he had a visit that wasn't on schedule and that had been taken care of swiftly and unjustly. The execution done right outside the chamber door. That had been some time ago, though.]
[To have another prisoner down here, well. That only meant that things up above had taken a turn somewhere.] That's right. You catch on quick. [When he lowers his head, the slick black on his forehead and arms is a little more noticeable. Like paint smears in sharp, rectangular patters - they map out where two sets of horns used to be. Cut off, most likely a jab when he first was thrown into the dank prison. A word of warning: "If you're not with us, then we'll make sure you look the part."]
[Greed snaps his tongue and the chains slither yet again. Despite the momentary lapse, his glance is unyielding and one eyebrow shoots up in a silent response. As if somehow, he saw that smile - if somehow, every thought was as clear as day.] So that's it, huh. Sorry, couldn't help but notice. [His neck bends, offering him a better look-see. The bindings around his throat tense when he gets too far, earning a slight grunt.] There is a way out, y'know.
[Of course, the way out comes at a price. And that's all too clear with the Sin's expression - as his mouth widens, glinting in an grin like the Cheshire just waiting, waiting, waiting. "Didn't see me Alice? Oh, so sorry, so sorry. Why don't we see just how far this rabbit hole goes, hmn?"]
I've got a proposition for you, lov - [Greed swallows and a curt-cut laugh hisses from his teeth. It trails off in a twiddle; as the forks of his tongue rattle and vibrate against the smooth-side of his jaw.] - Lightning. You get me down and I'll show you the way out. Equivalent exchange. [A loud snap sounds off, his thumb connecting against the underside of his palm. Like a match to a box, his curved talon scrapes and sparks.]
Sounds fair, no?
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