[He follows without seeming to, as if somehow he's twisted the fabric of the universe around to suggest they are merely two men going the same direction for a time.
He has the grace, certainly, to slip through the crowds, to seamlessly enmesh elegance with courtesy and leave still waters in his wake, but he doesn't. People melt out of his way. His walk is not, strictly speaking, a prowl, but darkness nips at his heels anyway. For all that he has troubled himself to set Flint aside, certain things forged to truth by absolute necessity cannot be sloughed off like some ruin of burnt skin.
No whiskey, and the punch is too sweet. He takes water instead, though he does eye the considerable amount of what he can only describe as candy that is piled high on his plate. How uncouth.]
no subject
He has the grace, certainly, to slip through the crowds, to seamlessly enmesh elegance with courtesy and leave still waters in his wake, but he doesn't. People melt out of his way. His walk is not, strictly speaking, a prowl, but darkness nips at his heels anyway. For all that he has troubled himself to set Flint aside, certain things forged to truth by absolute necessity cannot be sloughed off like some ruin of burnt skin.
No whiskey, and the punch is too sweet. He takes water instead, though he does eye the considerable amount of what he can only describe as candy that is piled high on his plate. How uncouth.]
I believe I'll refrain.