A hint of interest perks behind the Sin's shades. It'd be an easy miss for most; the subtle tick of his eyebrow, the way his eye seems to spin and swell like an ocean current, spinning down the remnants of a ship. Greed's mouth creases. A part of his lip yanks jaggedly to the side - its thin peel, a sharp reckoning of understanding.
Kaito will either get the briefcase or he won't. There is no in between.
"Usually, that's not how it works. But if that's what you want - " A single, audaciously curated nail touches down his chin, feeling out a link of chain. "-ha! I guess who am I to stop you, right? I like you, kid." He snaps his finger below the shelf of his chin, making his gold rings shine glitter to his throat. "Dolcetto here will have everything you need sent to your address. 205 Derby Lane, right?" Greed's brows knowingly bow together; their touch, a secret nod without the need of conversation:
"I know where you live, I know where you are. So, sweetheart, running just ain't an option."
"You'll find the rest by tomorrow morning. Don't bother waiting up for it," the Sin waves his hand and Dolcetto disappears behind a length of curtain. The weight of it drops at the backside of the lounge as hefty as a judge's gavel. "And I wouldn't try to trace the car either, if I were you. Those that work for me - they're friendly enough. But I'm sure even you understand how it is." Slumping, he casually pulls a fresh cigarette out from the hem of his pants. He taps it tip-down against his hip; once, twice. "No need to make things more complicated than they have to be. Besides, you get what you want, I get what I want. Everything else - " Fwwwhoosh. A match lights off the side of his boot and as the Sin's arm moves, the flame pulls with it - the gesture, more similar to a line of gasoline, licking up the heat.
Greed briskly tugs at the filter and his teeth lace in thick clouds of white, drifting smoke. "-ah, it doesn't really matter, does it." It's not a question. The who(s) and what(s) of the operation: their depth is an afterthought. Because this is how the underworld works, how it's always worked. Names are cheap, faces are cheaper, and at the end of the day, worth? Ah, worth.
Does it come directly on reputation.
The Sin shakes his wrist and the match cools to a dark, pitch-fire dim. "Now, unless there's anything else I can do for you," he trails, questioningly. Of course, Kaito could press him more. He could shake him for details. Yet, somehow -
Both of his heels glide back onto the table. Clck, clck. "Expect a visit sometime between now and then. One of mine will give you the ticket you'll need to get into the event." Greed flattens his shoulders back, forcing his chest to expose itself. "And Kaito?" He inhales and the tip of his cigarette slowly churns red, red, red.
I'M ALSO LATE TO THIS JAM ...
Kaito will either get the briefcase or he won't. There is no in between.
"Usually, that's not how it works. But if that's what you want - " A single, audaciously curated nail touches down his chin, feeling out a link of chain. "-ha! I guess who am I to stop you, right? I like you, kid." He snaps his finger below the shelf of his chin, making his gold rings shine glitter to his throat. "Dolcetto here will have everything you need sent to your address. 205 Derby Lane, right?" Greed's brows knowingly bow together; their touch, a secret nod without the need of conversation:
"I know where you live, I know where you are. So, sweetheart, running just ain't an option."
"You'll find the rest by tomorrow morning. Don't bother waiting up for it," the Sin waves his hand and Dolcetto disappears behind a length of curtain. The weight of it drops at the backside of the lounge as hefty as a judge's gavel. "And I wouldn't try to trace the car either, if I were you. Those that work for me - they're friendly enough. But I'm sure even you understand how it is." Slumping, he casually pulls a fresh cigarette out from the hem of his pants. He taps it tip-down against his hip; once, twice. "No need to make things more complicated than they have to be. Besides, you get what you want, I get what I want. Everything else - " Fwwwhoosh. A match lights off the side of his boot and as the Sin's arm moves, the flame pulls with it - the gesture, more similar to a line of gasoline, licking up the heat.
Greed briskly tugs at the filter and his teeth lace in thick clouds of white, drifting smoke. "-ah, it doesn't really matter, does it." It's not a question. The who(s) and what(s) of the operation: their depth is an afterthought. Because this is how the underworld works, how it's always worked. Names are cheap, faces are cheaper, and at the end of the day, worth? Ah, worth.
Does it come directly on reputation.
The Sin shakes his wrist and the match cools to a dark, pitch-fire dim. "Now, unless there's anything else I can do for you," he trails, questioningly. Of course, Kaito could press him more. He could shake him for details. Yet, somehow -
Both of his heels glide back onto the table. Clck, clck. "Expect a visit sometime between now and then. One of mine will give you the ticket you'll need to get into the event." Greed flattens his shoulders back, forcing his chest to expose itself. "And Kaito?" He inhales and the tip of his cigarette slowly churns red, red, red.
"It's been a pleasure."