11-28-2024, 01:16 AM
Ryker stood where he was, arms crossed, his expression sharp but unreadable. He didn’t flinch when Nox cracked the water bottle and drank, but his eyebrows ticked upward ever so slightly at the grin that followed. Of course the guy was a showman.
He let Nox finish before finally speaking. His voice, calm but laced with sarcasm, cut through the room like a razor.
“Well, I’d start with the ‘magic parts,’ since that’s apparently where we’ve landed today.” He tilted his head, his mouth quirking in a half-smile that was more exasperation than amusement. “But let me guess—‘it’s a secret,’ right? Or maybe you’re going to tell me I just need to ‘believe.’” He rolled his eyes, shifting his weight slightly. “Fuck, I hope there’s not a wand involved.”
He studied Nox for a moment, letting the silence breathe. Then he added dryly, “Also, I have to say, brave move calling it dancing. Sure looked like flailing from where I was standing.” His tone made it hard to tell if it was a dig or a joke, but the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips suggested the latter.
He stepped closer, slowly, letting the heavy boot falls of his steps punctuate the tension between them. “Look, I’ve seen a lot of things in this line of work. Things that don’t make sense. Things that don’t have explanations. I know when to keep my mouth shut, and I know when to ask questions.” His voice dropped, quieter but sharper. “So I’ll ask again: how?”
His eyes flicked toward Sage momentarily, and he straightened, dropping the pretense. Up until that moment, he maintained the all-American accent, but with the reveal, also voiced his own eastern tongue. “My name’s Ryker. I work for the Custody, which, by the way, I’m assuming you already figured out because you seem like the kind of guy who pokes his nose into places he shouldn’t. No hard feelings.” He gave a nonchalant shrug, a hint of self-awareness softening the sharp edges of his words. “That said, I’m not here to bust your ass. If I was, we’d be having a much less pleasant conversation right now. I’m here to help make sure you do what you’re here to do.”
He paced a few steps, more to burn off energy than anything else, before stopping and facing Nox directly again. “And while we’re coming clean, there’s something else.” He gestured vaguely toward the space where the weaves had been. “I can’t see it. What you’re doing—the weaves, the... lights—I can feel it, but I can’t see it. Which probably tells you more about me than I usually like to let on.”
Ryker smirked, the expression faint but genuine even if it only tugged at the half of his face that wasn’t scarred to oblivion. “And for the record, you can keep the sarcasm coming. I might even start to like you if you’re entertaining enough.”
He let Nox finish before finally speaking. His voice, calm but laced with sarcasm, cut through the room like a razor.
“Well, I’d start with the ‘magic parts,’ since that’s apparently where we’ve landed today.” He tilted his head, his mouth quirking in a half-smile that was more exasperation than amusement. “But let me guess—‘it’s a secret,’ right? Or maybe you’re going to tell me I just need to ‘believe.’” He rolled his eyes, shifting his weight slightly. “Fuck, I hope there’s not a wand involved.”
He studied Nox for a moment, letting the silence breathe. Then he added dryly, “Also, I have to say, brave move calling it dancing. Sure looked like flailing from where I was standing.” His tone made it hard to tell if it was a dig or a joke, but the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips suggested the latter.
He stepped closer, slowly, letting the heavy boot falls of his steps punctuate the tension between them. “Look, I’ve seen a lot of things in this line of work. Things that don’t make sense. Things that don’t have explanations. I know when to keep my mouth shut, and I know when to ask questions.” His voice dropped, quieter but sharper. “So I’ll ask again: how?”
His eyes flicked toward Sage momentarily, and he straightened, dropping the pretense. Up until that moment, he maintained the all-American accent, but with the reveal, also voiced his own eastern tongue. “My name’s Ryker. I work for the Custody, which, by the way, I’m assuming you already figured out because you seem like the kind of guy who pokes his nose into places he shouldn’t. No hard feelings.” He gave a nonchalant shrug, a hint of self-awareness softening the sharp edges of his words. “That said, I’m not here to bust your ass. If I was, we’d be having a much less pleasant conversation right now. I’m here to help make sure you do what you’re here to do.”
He paced a few steps, more to burn off energy than anything else, before stopping and facing Nox directly again. “And while we’re coming clean, there’s something else.” He gestured vaguely toward the space where the weaves had been. “I can’t see it. What you’re doing—the weaves, the... lights—I can feel it, but I can’t see it. Which probably tells you more about me than I usually like to let on.”
Ryker smirked, the expression faint but genuine even if it only tugged at the half of his face that wasn’t scarred to oblivion. “And for the record, you can keep the sarcasm coming. I might even start to like you if you’re entertaining enough.”