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[nestingdevil]

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[nestingdevil]

Greed hooks his angles casually and assumes his usual, languid position by propping up and leaning against the motorcycle's belly-round gas tank. He plucks another cigarette out of his pack while Mitsuhide talks; the lay of his head bowed like a therapist listening to the ravings of a mad man without comment. A strike of his thumb against the soft curve of his palm lights the cigarette and he inhales, if only for the feel of it.

"And here we are again, talking in circles. Haven't you ever heard the phrase? Don't threaten to steal honey from a hornet's nest," the Sin's voice travels out of his mouth in the form of pluming, silver-backed smoke. "Eh-" He raises his hand and the catches of his claws gently waft the air, escorting the smoke cloud out. "-I never wanted to fight you, friend. You just didn't give me much of a choice. You could have left it well alone the first time."

One of his eyebrows drastically shoots up, breaking over the frame of his sunglasses. "But you didn't listen to reason. So, we're stuck here - whatever here is. I won't lie to you, it's getting a little old." The former homunculus adjusts his shoulders and, as if answering Mitsuhide's own crunch, the bones of his neck pop ceremoniously.

Plnk, plunk, plnk.

"Why don't we just cut to the chase - if you're here for a rematch, I'm not interested." While he talks, Greed arches his hand clutching the still-lit cigarette up and behind his skull. He therapeutically kneads the tips of his fingers into the muscle, causing the smoke's firecracker tip to skip ash down his neck and across his chest. "Your master isn't here, the Gods are bullshit. What's the point continuing this crusade of yours when there's no one here to listen?" The former homunculus's face contorts into a faint, pleasing grimace - like a tiger in a three-pieced suit, signed for the heist of a lifetime. "Maybe you don't know those things, but you can certainly think for yourself, can't you?"

Of course he can. Mitsuhide is far from stupid. It's madness and madness alone that obscures him from -

Greed pinches his sunglasses by the silver semi-circle connecting the pair and lifts. The sunglasses pitch outward, then; like a door opening from the ground up. Dry lightning makes white-hot zigzags across the sky and the dull roll of thunder is quick to follow. "How about I make you a deal, hmn? You talk straight with me, and I'll consider taking you back to the main road." Purple blares as deep as a coffin's fire in his eye sockets - his pricking glance, paper-thin. "And if you don't? Well," he turns over his shoulder to map out the surrounding desert. It stretches forever in all directions. A vast wasteland so easy, so terribly simple, to get lost in.

"-without me or mine, you'll be stuck out here, chasing your own tail. Now, I don't know about you friend, but that sounds like a rotten way to go."

The former homunculus clips his sunglasses on the edge of his collar and as they dangle between his bones, another bolt of lightning singes the air, doubling itself in the bottomless, black glass of his shades.