Not exactly. Was just finishing up some business, is all. [The Sin distractedly flicks his wrist. Immediately, the part of the 'Shield covering his hand begins its slow-crawl creep. It engulfs the leather bands hung loosely on his forearm, causing them to snap back flat against his skin. Greed flexes his claws.] Someone new, huh? She sounds pretty interesting. Haven't run into anyone who couldn't control their abilities before. Not here, at least. Gunna guess she's a new one. That right?
[The former homunculus pinches his sunglasses at the corner of the frame. Casually, he shoves them between two of his horns, and a lewd curl tightens on his lip. Truly, there's no ego as big enough, as persistent enough, as avarice itself.] Mmn. That's a lot, coming from you. But you know me, I always want more. [While there's no one else around to catch them, he still plays it coy. The length of his tail twirls about the barstool. It weaves between the rails as nimbly as an eel, leaving the tip of it a hair from the Archangel's ankle.]
[He unwinds it not a second later.] Yeah, I know. And you already said it yourself. You're a little bit of a control freak there, Blue Eyes. [A warm expression settles on his face. Pleasant, soft. The Sin reaches behind him with his foot and as he hooks the rung of the stool with his heel, he yanks it closer.] Ehhh, wasn't really something I was planning on. Not really the type of guy that deals with kids -
[And he's about to finish that sentence, but like always, Michael's keen eye for observation meets its mark. The former homunculus fumbles. The back of his heel slips along the stool, nearly catching itself in the process, and the ice bucket jumps off the seat. Greed bites back a curse. Thankfully, his reflexes kick in just in time to grab the handle before it meets its maker on the floor. The Sin hisses, and the spines on the tip of his tail quiver at his feet.]
Tch. Yeah, well. It's not like I've done this before. Give me a little credit, would ya? [He tries to collect himself as he shoves the ice back onto the center of the stool.] Y'know, I keep saying it, but you really are a pissant.
[When he sees the feathers (singed, burnt, charred), Greed narrows his eyes. He lowers himself into a half-squat to comb the tips of his claws through one of them.] I'm surprised she even got this close. [He pinches his middle finger and thumb together, finding them through the curled tufts.] And I could tell you to take a break, but you and I both know that there'd be no point.
[Without warning, he plucks the feather, setting it aside on the barstool. Casual as he may be, there is a slight stiffness to him. The hard set of his shoulders, a dead give away.]
[Greed reaches into the ice bucket. He traps a single cube between his pinkie and thumb before pressing it against Michael's wing. A little chill to beat the heat.] She got a name? Would be interested to meet the one person in this place that could actually give you a run for your money.
I USED THE SAME PHRASE TWICE ...
[The former homunculus pinches his sunglasses at the corner of the frame. Casually, he shoves them between two of his horns, and a lewd curl tightens on his lip. Truly, there's no ego as big enough, as persistent enough, as avarice itself.] Mmn. That's a lot, coming from you. But you know me, I always want more. [While there's no one else around to catch them, he still plays it coy. The length of his tail twirls about the barstool. It weaves between the rails as nimbly as an eel, leaving the tip of it a hair from the Archangel's ankle.]
[He unwinds it not a second later.] Yeah, I know. And you already said it yourself. You're a little bit of a control freak there, Blue Eyes. [A warm expression settles on his face. Pleasant, soft. The Sin reaches behind him with his foot and as he hooks the rung of the stool with his heel, he yanks it closer.] Ehhh, wasn't really something I was planning on. Not really the type of guy that deals with kids -
[And he's about to finish that sentence, but like always, Michael's keen eye for observation meets its mark. The former homunculus fumbles. The back of his heel slips along the stool, nearly catching itself in the process, and the ice bucket jumps off the seat. Greed bites back a curse. Thankfully, his reflexes kick in just in time to grab the handle before it meets its maker on the floor. The Sin hisses, and the spines on the tip of his tail quiver at his feet.]
Tch. Yeah, well. It's not like I've done this before. Give me a little credit, would ya? [He tries to collect himself as he shoves the ice back onto the center of the stool.] Y'know, I keep saying it, but you really are a pissant.
[When he sees the feathers (singed, burnt, charred), Greed narrows his eyes. He lowers himself into a half-squat to comb the tips of his claws through one of them.] I'm surprised she even got this close. [He pinches his middle finger and thumb together, finding them through the curled tufts.] And I could tell you to take a break, but you and I both know that there'd be no point.
[Without warning, he plucks the feather, setting it aside on the barstool. Casual as he may be, there is a slight stiffness to him. The hard set of his shoulders, a dead give away.]
[Greed reaches into the ice bucket. He traps a single cube between his pinkie and thumb before pressing it against Michael's wing. A little chill to beat the heat.] She got a name? Would be interested to meet the one person in this place that could actually give you a run for your money.