Might shoot you no matter what you do. Go ahead and try your luck, if you like. I’ll get paid no matter what.
[ Wyatt drags the fallen gun belt closer with his boot, kicks it behind him and out of the way. Faint as it is, Wyatt’s smile is still sharp, something predatory and mean, as he turns it on Faraday. ]
No honor among thieves, eh?
[ Faraday shrugs a shoulder, keeping his eyes forward, does his best to wrangle the fiery wrath coiling in his chest. If he had access to his ability, he’d try his luck. He’d draw his pistol and take the shot. Wyatt would likely shoot him, too, but by then, Faraday would have already killed him. Faraday’s ability would drag him back from the dark, after that, and they could go about their business.
But that shadowy flicker in his chest is walled away, nearly gone, and the absence has left Faraday imbalanced. (And how infuriatingly capricious of him, to want for so long to be rid of his ability, and when he finally is, he thinks, No. Not now.) Must be the same for Alec. Must be that the lack of his magic has kicked up some wild sense of self-preservation, and frustrating as it is, Faraday understands. They hardly know each other. They aren’t responsible for one another. There’s no reason for either of them to stick out their necks for each other simply on account of a couple of shared battles and conversations.
Doesn’t mean Faraday has to take it lying down, though. He’s an impatient creature by nature, but he knows when to wait, when to watch for his openings, as he does now. His fingers itch, muscles primed to draw the second there’s an opportunity to shoot Wyatt down.
(And won’t that be awkward, to kill Wyatt with Alec’s hand still outstretched with the cash?)
When he replies, Faraday keeps his voice light. ] Don’t know that anyone’s got the patience for honor, these days. I certainly don’t.
no subject
[ Wyatt drags the fallen gun belt closer with his boot, kicks it behind him and out of the way. Faint as it is, Wyatt’s smile is still sharp, something predatory and mean, as he turns it on Faraday. ]
No honor among thieves, eh?
[ Faraday shrugs a shoulder, keeping his eyes forward, does his best to wrangle the fiery wrath coiling in his chest. If he had access to his ability, he’d try his luck. He’d draw his pistol and take the shot. Wyatt would likely shoot him, too, but by then, Faraday would have already killed him. Faraday’s ability would drag him back from the dark, after that, and they could go about their business.
But that shadowy flicker in his chest is walled away, nearly gone, and the absence has left Faraday imbalanced. (And how infuriatingly capricious of him, to want for so long to be rid of his ability, and when he finally is, he thinks, No. Not now.) Must be the same for Alec. Must be that the lack of his magic has kicked up some wild sense of self-preservation, and frustrating as it is, Faraday understands. They hardly know each other. They aren’t responsible for one another. There’s no reason for either of them to stick out their necks for each other simply on account of a couple of shared battles and conversations.
Doesn’t mean Faraday has to take it lying down, though. He’s an impatient creature by nature, but he knows when to wait, when to watch for his openings, as he does now. His fingers itch, muscles primed to draw the second there’s an opportunity to shoot Wyatt down.
(And won’t that be awkward, to kill Wyatt with Alec’s hand still outstretched with the cash?)
When he replies, Faraday keeps his voice light. ] Don’t know that anyone’s got the patience for honor, these days. I certainly don’t.