[His demons are never quiescent, but they can be put away. Anger recedes, scraped back into the depths of him like a man dragged under the ocean spray with an anchor lashed to his feet. It fights him. It always does, but he is his own master.
As to sympathy-- well, he has never been a creature of that habit. He feels none of it here. But there is a possibility that this boy is trying less to rattle him specifically, and that he is himself rattled and can intuit enough to recognize that there are, in fact, similarities. Certainly they are both rough men. He would posit, also intelligent. But this boy seems a wreck of himself, at odds with everything he is, a cacophony of contradictions. James is too fucking old to think that such a presentation could exist without intent to manipulate, but every good lie has a truth to it, laid into its bones.
James does not like being picked apart. Silver does the same, and God help him, but Silver is one of the most dangerous men he knows. He is not afraid of making enemies, but to hold those who pose the greatest hazard to you close is the greater wisdom. His eyes narrow, calculating.
His name? Why, he very nearly says Flint.]
James.
[His tone hasn't changed. It's still distant and dispassionate. It's neither an olive branch nor an albatross, but it's plain enough.]
no subject
As to sympathy-- well, he has never been a creature of that habit. He feels none of it here. But there is a possibility that this boy is trying less to rattle him specifically, and that he is himself rattled and can intuit enough to recognize that there are, in fact, similarities. Certainly they are both rough men. He would posit, also intelligent. But this boy seems a wreck of himself, at odds with everything he is, a cacophony of contradictions. James is too fucking old to think that such a presentation could exist without intent to manipulate, but every good lie has a truth to it, laid into its bones.
James does not like being picked apart. Silver does the same, and God help him, but Silver is one of the most dangerous men he knows. He is not afraid of making enemies, but to hold those who pose the greatest hazard to you close is the greater wisdom. His eyes narrow, calculating.
His name? Why, he very nearly says Flint.]
James.
[His tone hasn't changed. It's still distant and dispassionate. It's neither an olive branch nor an albatross, but it's plain enough.]