He wonders if he's forming a habit. Not the type of habit he's too keen on.
She's giving him the silent treatment, standing there wrapped in all of her righteousness and grief and strength. She should know better. All it accomplishes is offer him the leisure to study her features, and note the differences between them and Irina's. He's done this many times over the years, but each time he notices something new.
"How's Rachel?" he asks, after a few minutes, and wonders if he cares.
Sydney doesn't answer. He smiles, and walks forward. "How's Mr. Vaughn?"
He sees the working of her jaw and clings to his bratty smile.
It's hard.
Because he is behind bars again, and he learned a good few years ago not to hope that Irina would get him out. Not unless she needed him, and nobody's indispensable, he remembers Khasinau teaching him all these years ago, and then again when she killed him.
He thinks of the first words Irina ever spoke to him. "Most boats that go in the rocks really don't intend to go there," with perfect bloodred lips and a coldness in her eyes he has tried to emulate ever since. "You'll have to learn to steer clear of them."
He looks at Sydney, and tries to ignore the bars of his cells.
no subject
Again.
He wonders if he's forming a habit. Not the type of habit he's too keen on.
She's giving him the silent treatment, standing there wrapped in all of her righteousness and grief and strength. She should know better. All it accomplishes is offer him the leisure to study her features, and note the differences between them and Irina's. He's done this many times over the years, but each time he notices something new.
"How's Rachel?" he asks, after a few minutes, and wonders if he cares.
Sydney doesn't answer. He smiles, and walks forward. "How's Mr. Vaughn?"
He sees the working of her jaw and clings to his bratty smile.
It's hard.
Because he is behind bars again, and he learned a good few years ago not to hope that Irina would get him out. Not unless she needed him, and nobody's indispensable, he remembers Khasinau teaching him all these years ago, and then again when she killed him.
He thinks of the first words Irina ever spoke to him. "Most boats that go in the rocks really don't intend to go there," with perfect bloodred lips and a coldness in her eyes he has tried to emulate ever since. "You'll have to learn to steer clear of them."
He looks at Sydney, and tries to ignore the bars of his cells.
He never did learn.