[Greed's eyes hood at the visible shift. Like a slow-running electrical current going for a puddle of oil, Corvo's mannerisms are rare. Seen in the mortal lot when all other options were gone from the table. The slits in the Sin's eyes thicken, then narrow. Shivering with an interest as he keeps his body ducked low. However, he doesn't say a word. Just stark-still and the only movement that comes is that slow birthing of teeth.]
[But then, Corvo's talking. Similar to a drunk rambling on about an apocalypse he knows is coming. Everyone dismisses him: "Don't listen to him.""Crazy old fuck." Greed's heard the song played over and over and the truth of it all is that it's correct. The drunk knows, sees behind the curtains and points out the illusion. Everyone else is blind.]
[Still, this goes over his head and Greed's jaw goes slack.] Ah-? [Both eyebrows wrinkle his forehead as they climb. Not a word Corvo has to say makes sense. Least, not to Greed. A story that isn't his and never would be. There's no time to react, though. There's fingers around his throat, the sound of his heels dragging like a corpse that's about to be dropped. Greed's head smacks into the opposite wall, but he leaves his throat exposed.]
[And all the while, that smile never leaves. No, it grows in sharpness and a choked laugh hisses from his jaw like a gas-line broke.] - everyone wants something they can't have. Humans always think greed is for money, but that's not all.
[The blade doesn't come, the electric shock never bites. Instead, it's his companion's fingers in his skin, his exaggerated pants in his ear. The homunculus reaches out his hand, touching the wrist that's so close to ripping his throat apart.] What's good, what's taboo - to me, it's all good - [Greed purrs, almost too close that anyone could think it an intimate situation. He presses his forehead to Corvo's, forcing pale-tan skin against the other's sea-soaked brow.]
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[But then, Corvo's talking. Similar to a drunk rambling on about an apocalypse he knows is coming. Everyone dismisses him: "Don't listen to him." "Crazy old fuck." Greed's heard the song played over and over and the truth of it all is that it's correct. The drunk knows, sees behind the curtains and points out the illusion. Everyone else is blind.]
[Still, this goes over his head and Greed's jaw goes slack.] Ah-? [Both eyebrows wrinkle his forehead as they climb. Not a word Corvo has to say makes sense. Least, not to Greed. A story that isn't his and never would be. There's no time to react, though. There's fingers around his throat, the sound of his heels dragging like a corpse that's about to be dropped. Greed's head smacks into the opposite wall, but he leaves his throat exposed.]
[And all the while, that smile never leaves. No, it grows in sharpness and a choked laugh hisses from his jaw like a gas-line broke.] - everyone wants something they can't have. Humans always think greed is for money, but that's not all.
[The blade doesn't come, the electric shock never bites. Instead, it's his companion's fingers in his skin, his exaggerated pants in his ear. The homunculus reaches out his hand, touching the wrist that's so close to ripping his throat apart.] What's good, what's taboo - to me, it's all good - [Greed purrs, almost too close that anyone could think it an intimate situation. He presses his forehead to Corvo's, forcing pale-tan skin against the other's sea-soaked brow.]
And it seems to me, you're owed. Aren't you.