Perhaps not. The sound of squelching disrupts Pyrites fom his reverie, having been gazing upon a body already put in place. The shoulder appears dislocated and the jaw too forcefully broken, but there's a chest cavity large enough to satisfy him for now and he doesn't feel the need to complain about this one. His partner slacking to quell some blasted nicotine craving is another matter entirely.
"What are you doing?" His voice is soft and calm for now, but then it usually is in the early stages of agitation.
"What's it look like?" Jugson grunts, hardly moving from his spot crouched in the middle of the dirt and blood stained floor. His long arms rest lazily over the fold of his longer legs, just as his cigarette dangles precariously from between his curled lips. His American accent and Southern drawl seems to cut through the serenity of the little room, some fancy shmancy drawing room of a high-end Muggle that had the misfortune of being everything the Boss Man hates.
He spares a moment to glance over his shoulder at Pyrites, lips twisting into something teasing. "Y'want a drag?"
A hand, gloved in white silk flecked with red, runs through Pyrites' hair as his lips tighten and teeth grit together. He shoots a venomous look at the cigarette so lightly hanging from Jugson's mouth and for a moment considers snatching it off the man and stamping it out. But then the scene would be ruined by litter and goodness knows Pyrites could do without more obstacles in the creation of art.
"I don't smoke what you smoke," is his only reply, lips curled into half a sneer, foot impatiently tapping on the ruined wood floor of the room, the sole of his shoe leaving a faint print of blood.
Jugson considers Pyrites for a moment, before he shrugs that careless shrug of his and turns his attentions back to the cancer stick he now holds in a hand. "Sure look like you could use one," is all he says. Absently he taps the end of the cigarette, causing some ashes to fall over a small trickle of blood that Jugson can't remember who it came from.
After a long while and some pointed ignoring of that tapping foot, he stands, stretching his arms high over his head. He cracks a few bones, and lets out a low grown of pleasure at the feel. "I'm hungry," he announces, idly flicking the spent cigarette away, right into that open cavity Pyrites had just been admiring. "Let's go get some subs."
Comments 9
"What are you doing?" His voice is soft and calm for now, but then it usually is in the early stages of agitation.
Reply
He spares a moment to glance over his shoulder at Pyrites, lips twisting into something teasing. "Y'want a drag?"
Reply
"I don't smoke what you smoke," is his only reply, lips curled into half a sneer, foot impatiently tapping on the ruined wood floor of the room, the sole of his shoe leaving a faint print of blood.
Reply
After a long while and some pointed ignoring of that tapping foot, he stands, stretching his arms high over his head. He cracks a few bones, and lets out a low grown of pleasure at the feel. "I'm hungry," he announces, idly flicking the spent cigarette away, right into that open cavity Pyrites had just been admiring. "Let's go get some subs."
Reply
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