09-22-2013, 09:28 AM
One simple word carried so much power. Given real power currently throbbed pain and joy across the inside of his skull, the metaphor was trite by comparison. But a flattened please wielded Oriena's hand as firmly as if Jaxen gripped her wrist and tugged her into position against her will. Satisfactory enough; for now.
The card lay against his leg, which was still laid across the other knee rather than perched on the table, he leaned forward enough to snag Oriena's cold gift off the table. Really? She couldn't hand it to him? And Jon gets a refill without so much as a smirk? Irritation ghosted his expression which he made little effort to hide when he shot her a look.
Probably best to not go down that line of thought. Lashing out with a temper was for children. Getting even was much more his style, and those things took planning, and planning took time. He was patient enough for that kind of payoff.
Before he could so much as sample Oriena's painfully wrought gift, the forces in the back of his head stood to attention. The rattle of a die pounded his eardrums, but Jaxen's gaze narrowed along the path of a spidery tangle of -- something. The same visible web that flickered in and out of view around Tony and Michael.
It shot past him. Close enough that he unconsciously leaned away from its path. Some innate fear told him that thing was the enemy of sanity; and as Jaxen preferred to hang onto what remained, it meant keeping a wary eye on the man forging it. There was no denying it then. Either Jon was in the same padded room as Jaxen, or he was a future member of Tony's cult. Question was, what to do with this information? He hadn't reacted to Jaxen's slip. What did that mean? Jaxen was spinning his wheels down a blind track, here. He couldn't stand the ignorance. That's it, back to Tony. It grated so painfully, he almost walked out right then. Until he forgot Tony's place was a sausage fest, and nothing cured ails like a good hard fuck, and right now, his favorite doctor was sitting right next to him.
Comments drew his attention back to the die, and it took a moment to transition thoughts. The roll came into focus and the loss registered. His ego deflated.
"You have GOT to be kidding me,"
he blinked none too happy with these turn of events, then flipped his card upright to reveal the losing number.
The card lay against his leg, which was still laid across the other knee rather than perched on the table, he leaned forward enough to snag Oriena's cold gift off the table. Really? She couldn't hand it to him? And Jon gets a refill without so much as a smirk? Irritation ghosted his expression which he made little effort to hide when he shot her a look.
Probably best to not go down that line of thought. Lashing out with a temper was for children. Getting even was much more his style, and those things took planning, and planning took time. He was patient enough for that kind of payoff.
Before he could so much as sample Oriena's painfully wrought gift, the forces in the back of his head stood to attention. The rattle of a die pounded his eardrums, but Jaxen's gaze narrowed along the path of a spidery tangle of -- something. The same visible web that flickered in and out of view around Tony and Michael.
It shot past him. Close enough that he unconsciously leaned away from its path. Some innate fear told him that thing was the enemy of sanity; and as Jaxen preferred to hang onto what remained, it meant keeping a wary eye on the man forging it. There was no denying it then. Either Jon was in the same padded room as Jaxen, or he was a future member of Tony's cult. Question was, what to do with this information? He hadn't reacted to Jaxen's slip. What did that mean? Jaxen was spinning his wheels down a blind track, here. He couldn't stand the ignorance. That's it, back to Tony. It grated so painfully, he almost walked out right then. Until he forgot Tony's place was a sausage fest, and nothing cured ails like a good hard fuck, and right now, his favorite doctor was sitting right next to him.
Comments drew his attention back to the die, and it took a moment to transition thoughts. The roll came into focus and the loss registered. His ego deflated.
"You have GOT to be kidding me,"
he blinked none too happy with these turn of events, then flipped his card upright to reveal the losing number.