[Is it? James doesn't ask it outloud, but there's something of the question in the cant to his head and the faint upward shift of his brow. He understands niceties that exist as social lubrication, the sirs and ma'ams of political convenience, yet there's something oddly genuine about it that hangs in the air.
He takes the man's hand regardless. It costs him nothing of any currency he concerns himself with. Nothing of the soul surrendered.
His own hands are hard, calloused and scarred, the backs of them peppered with freckles where he's taken the sun, and the strength behind the shake is something that speaks to leashed violence just behind the restraint. It says: this is not a man tamed.]
Quite.
[His tone is dry. In all, pleasantries aside, it really does remain to be seen, doesn't it?]
They've refreshments.
[He nods towards the table. It's not exactly an offer, more a variable avenue of discussion.]
no subject
He takes the man's hand regardless. It costs him nothing of any currency he concerns himself with. Nothing of the soul surrendered.
His own hands are hard, calloused and scarred, the backs of them peppered with freckles where he's taken the sun, and the strength behind the shake is something that speaks to leashed violence just behind the restraint. It says: this is not a man tamed.]
Quite.
[His tone is dry. In all, pleasantries aside, it really does remain to be seen, doesn't it?]
They've refreshments.
[He nods towards the table. It's not exactly an offer, more a variable avenue of discussion.]