(no subject)

[nestingdevil]

greed@compass.net (3) (no subject) D12 63:19PM greed@compass.net (6) Re: The Devil's Nest D11 8:01PM greed@compass.net (12) [text] D10 9:35AM

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<span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">TO:</span> first.last@compass.net <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">CC:</span> firstname.lastname@compass.net <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">BCC:</span> firstname.lastname@compass.net, firstname.lastname@compass.net <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">FROM:</span> firstname.lastname@compass.net <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">DATE/TIME:</span> Day Twelve, Night. 63:19PM <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">SUBJECT:</span> (no subject) <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">MESSAGE:</span> No message.

<span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">CONTACT:</span> first.last@compass.net <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">MESSAGE:</span> <span style="font-family:courier; color:#000000;">text</span>

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➥ VOICE | PRIVATE 1/2

[nestingdevil]

Eh-?

[There's a solid thud; wood knocking hollow as he settles against something. Heel sliding up, pushing weight to the curved-tip of a toe and for a while, Greed's silent. A still sort of quiet that's far different than his usual flavor.]

[But then, an audible shrug takes hold. Leather and fur moving, making themselves known over the feed.] Will you now. [Tone thick; like a vintage tune played on the cusp of closing time. Late night stringing it along, making it hiss from his teeth.] You know, that's not very nice.

[Still, it wasn't as if he wasn't used to this kind of business.] Everyone wants something they can't have, Yaha. Anyone who tells you different is lying.

[Normally, he'd go on his rant; explain that wanting was neither good nor bad. But he skips out. Merely waves his hand, chasing away the thought entirely. Heel coming down, that dramatic slowness a sound all its own.] No one says you aren't, but it's not exactly fair, right? You stole something from them and I think you and I have already covered how I feel about stealing.

[It's almost a threat. Not quite there, not quite menacing. Just the edge of it, the proverbial knife drawn to the table. No need to ruffle any feathers.]

[But as soon as it's there, it's gone. A blink-flash before Greed makes a noise in the back of his throat. Surprise catching him:] Ah-?