[Stocke isn’t the only one feeling the subconscious ping of hunger. The nature of it is buried and feral, bubbling to the surface when he’s either forgotten or merely ignored the feeling out of pure ignorance; the sensation isn't one he has had to worry about before. A matter of convenience, but now? It's different. His tongue feels rough to the touch, his throat choking out like someone who’s been wandering the desert for a bit too long. The only distraction comes from Stocke himself as he oozes from a solid to a mostly-airy state. The tendrils of inky, chilled smoke drift across his back and Greed listens as the sword trills softly behind him; a blade abandoned by circumstance.]
[The matter of the woman from Bavan is shelved for the time being. He can’t think straight, not with that constant drumming in the side of his skull. Greed’s teeth shine off as he rounds the corner towards the stairwell, his fangs illuminating in a soft glow. Below them, the entrance to the ‘Nest bangs unlocked and a soft gust howls through the empty bar. On nights like this, when the fog yanks the true monsters to the surface, the lack of patrons isn't surprising.]
[What is is the sound of whispers, the loud commotion of uneven feet blindly walking through the dark.] "This is the place boys - I know it." [A pause, a crash, then:] "Hey watch it - !" [The voice sounds older, gruff. Grinding through teeth soaked in spit. Footsteps knock off hollow on the bottom floor and whoever it is, they've brought company. Their boots are thick and heavy - their stance labored, yet tight. Greed's mouth pulls into a sneer, his upper lip peeling away to show off his new set.]
"Shit. You don't think anyone's still here, do ya?" [Another - this time a bit younger, with a farm-bred accent to tell of his upbringing. Two whistling plunks tremble with unsteady hands and it's hard not to know what's going on: the barrel of an opened shotgun, a reloading of slugs. A rather loud click breaks the silence and someone breathes heavily outward.] "Looks like the fuckers cut and run. Whatever. We'll show 'em I ain't no one to mess 'round with. Had a tail on that g'damn little bird thief. Ain't gunna be chased out this time."
[The Sin slowly takes one step and the conversation abruptly cuts off from below. The merry band of men alerted, they quiet down and hunker. It's a contrast of two forces and Greed casually takes the stairs, his hands slipping into his pockets. His smile is dangerous, deadly. And still oddly friendly; coaxing.] Oi, oi, oi - now what's all this, hmn? You'd have to be pretty stupid to try something here, friend.
[Despite their luck? Fate sometimes offered a better deal.]
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[The matter of the woman from Bavan is shelved for the time being. He can’t think straight, not with that constant drumming in the side of his skull. Greed’s teeth shine off as he rounds the corner towards the stairwell, his fangs illuminating in a soft glow. Below them, the entrance to the ‘Nest bangs unlocked and a soft gust howls through the empty bar. On nights like this, when the fog yanks the true monsters to the surface, the lack of patrons isn't surprising.]
[What is is the sound of whispers, the loud commotion of uneven feet blindly walking through the dark.] "This is the place boys - I know it." [A pause, a crash, then:] "Hey watch it - !" [The voice sounds older, gruff. Grinding through teeth soaked in spit. Footsteps knock off hollow on the bottom floor and whoever it is, they've brought company. Their boots are thick and heavy - their stance labored, yet tight. Greed's mouth pulls into a sneer, his upper lip peeling away to show off his new set.]
"Shit. You don't think anyone's still here, do ya?" [Another - this time a bit younger, with a farm-bred accent to tell of his upbringing. Two whistling plunks tremble with unsteady hands and it's hard not to know what's going on: the barrel of an opened shotgun, a reloading of slugs. A rather loud click breaks the silence and someone breathes heavily outward.] "Looks like the fuckers cut and run. Whatever. We'll show 'em I ain't no one to mess 'round with. Had a tail on that g'damn little bird thief. Ain't gunna be chased out this time."
[The Sin slowly takes one step and the conversation abruptly cuts off from below. The merry band of men alerted, they quiet down and hunker. It's a contrast of two forces and Greed casually takes the stairs, his hands slipping into his pockets. His smile is dangerous, deadly. And still oddly friendly; coaxing.] Oi, oi, oi - now what's all this, hmn? You'd have to be pretty stupid to try something here, friend.
[Despite their luck? Fate sometimes offered a better deal.]