[ John stands at the desk, holding a journal. He sucks in a breath, and lets it out slowly. The wall is seeping blood and distortion and it is, frankly, deeply rude. ]
Looks like someone has a script in mind for us.
[ He turns back to Viktor. The look on his face is, briefly, dangerous: there is real hate there, something vulnerable and raw. A flash of cornered-animal fury. He steps forward, and it has cooled away again by the time he reaches the table. This time, he doesn't drop the journal. ]
Let's backtrack. Where were we?
[ Blasphemy and heresy and some just astonishingly poor decisions, apparently. ]
no subject
Looks like someone has a script in mind for us.
[ He turns back to Viktor. The look on his face is, briefly, dangerous: there is real hate there, something vulnerable and raw. A flash of cornered-animal fury. He steps forward, and it has cooled away again by the time he reaches the table. This time, he doesn't drop the journal. ]
Let's backtrack. Where were we?
[ Blasphemy and heresy and some just astonishingly poor decisions, apparently. ]