[The tip of his toe presses into the door, causing it to slowly drift ajar again. In the hallway, the few lights still holding flutter - most of the candles have gone out and any bulbs still in one piece are foggy, ashen. The glass burning from the inside out. A door lays flat in the hallway, its structure splintered and cracked. Greed's lips pull aside, sliding one jagged-tooth against another for a brief flicker of a snarl.]
[Then, gone.] That so - ? Don't get me wrong Stocke - she might end up being trouble for us, but I've still got my rules. I don't fight women. [But that doesn't mean he'll idly sit and wait it out either. Not with how dismal his would-be second looks; not with how parched he feels. His hand falls loosely at his side and the tips of his claws barely touch one another. The pounding in his head is worse, the heat at the corners of his vision more so.]
[He just doesn't seem to care.] Humans tend to get righteous when it comes to that. Not that I blame her - [The former homunculus' throat recoils and starts to drop. The heat source falling and falling and a pulse-beat undulates further in his chest. Where a heart should be, but off somehow. Greed throws his foot, slowly bringing his heel down first to let the rest of his boot pat against the floorboards with a distinct, sharp click.] - but we've got a bit more of a problem on our hands.
[Hunger. That's the word for it; not for food or for drink. Not for sleep or for sex. But for everything; everything and anything and the Sin's shoulders rise up, his body leans forward. The brush of shadow at his backside is cooler, chilled. Rinsing over him and the small bursts of fire veining through his arm huff and die out. They'll reignite again, now doubt. But for now - ]
No, you don't have a choice. And I've always been a fan - never been one to work for anyone else. [Greed's voice is lofty, air. As he tips his head, eyeing Stocke through his sunglasses a second time 'round. They're warm to the touch, the metal holding them together wafting with edges of steam. Red blares against the backside of his sunglasses, the strength of it waxing and waning every-so-often. He sneers blindly; not at Stocke, but at something else. A feeling down in the 'Pit; wriggling and tugging him to a destination.]
Looks like you could use the favor this time.
[Another thunderous quake vibrates from the basement, the sound muted through the various floors. The walls shake once, then stop. Greed coils his head around the door and for flash, his frown is back again. It doesn't fit his face, that look. Almost angry, feral.]
[Wrath.] Tsk - [A forced grin presses on his jaw line and the Sin takes the lead. Down the hallway he goes, the remaining light bulbs beating out. Whether it's him, them, or the situation, it's difficult to say. But as the minutes count down and as slowly-trickling fog creeps in, the 'Nest falls dim. Shadows lick where light used to be, replacing it in an eerie silence.]
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[Then, gone.] That so - ? Don't get me wrong Stocke - she might end up being trouble for us, but I've still got my rules. I don't fight women. [But that doesn't mean he'll idly sit and wait it out either. Not with how dismal his would-be second looks; not with how parched he feels. His hand falls loosely at his side and the tips of his claws barely touch one another. The pounding in his head is worse, the heat at the corners of his vision more so.]
[He just doesn't seem to care.] Humans tend to get righteous when it comes to that. Not that I blame her - [The former homunculus' throat recoils and starts to drop. The heat source falling and falling and a pulse-beat undulates further in his chest. Where a heart should be, but off somehow. Greed throws his foot, slowly bringing his heel down first to let the rest of his boot pat against the floorboards with a distinct, sharp click.] - but we've got a bit more of a problem on our hands.
[Hunger. That's the word for it; not for food or for drink. Not for sleep or for sex. But for everything; everything and anything and the Sin's shoulders rise up, his body leans forward. The brush of shadow at his backside is cooler, chilled. Rinsing over him and the small bursts of fire veining through his arm huff and die out. They'll reignite again, now doubt. But for now - ]
No, you don't have a choice. And I've always been a fan - never been one to work for anyone else. [Greed's voice is lofty, air. As he tips his head, eyeing Stocke through his sunglasses a second time 'round. They're warm to the touch, the metal holding them together wafting with edges of steam. Red blares against the backside of his sunglasses, the strength of it waxing and waning every-so-often. He sneers blindly; not at Stocke, but at something else. A feeling down in the 'Pit; wriggling and tugging him to a destination.]
Looks like you could use the favor this time.
[Another thunderous quake vibrates from the basement, the sound muted through the various floors. The walls shake once, then stop. Greed coils his head around the door and for flash, his frown is back again. It doesn't fit his face, that look. Almost angry, feral.]
[Wrath.] Tsk - [A forced grin presses on his jaw line and the Sin takes the lead. Down the hallway he goes, the remaining light bulbs beating out. Whether it's him, them, or the situation, it's difficult to say. But as the minutes count down and as slowly-trickling fog creeps in, the 'Nest falls dim. Shadows lick where light used to be, replacing it in an eerie silence.]
[It'll be a long, long night.]