Therion's eyes flicker to the exit and back, disbelieving. He's... going to let him go? Without getting some kind of deal out of him, without any kind of punishment, without... anything? Without taking back the money?
Hearing that Moriarty laid them out for him on purpose, like some kind of... gift and test all in one, makes the skin between his shoulderblades prickle very unpleasantly. You can't trust gifts. But it's not like Therion's just going to give them back, either. He needs them. They're useful. He just knows they must come with strings attached. Why won't Moriarty just lay it out for him now? What should he expect later?
He studies Moriarty intently, trying to find answers without having to reveal any of his own questions, but he can't see anything there but kindness--and not a weak kind of kindness, either, but an informed, unafraid one Therion doesn't understand.
Unconsciously, he weaves the drawstring of his hoodie around and between his fingers. A tell. But finally, he drops his gaze.]
...I'll think about it.
[Time to BOY SCAMPER OUTTA HERE, glancing back once in the doorway to make sure it's no trick.]
no subject
Therion's eyes flicker to the exit and back, disbelieving. He's... going to let him go? Without getting some kind of deal out of him, without any kind of punishment, without... anything? Without taking back the money?
Hearing that Moriarty laid them out for him on purpose, like some kind of... gift and test all in one, makes the skin between his shoulderblades prickle very unpleasantly. You can't trust gifts. But it's not like Therion's just going to give them back, either. He needs them. They're useful. He just knows they must come with strings attached. Why won't Moriarty just lay it out for him now? What should he expect later?
He studies Moriarty intently, trying to find answers without having to reveal any of his own questions, but he can't see anything there but kindness--and not a weak kind of kindness, either, but an informed, unafraid one Therion doesn't understand.
Unconsciously, he weaves the drawstring of his hoodie around and between his fingers. A tell. But finally, he drops his gaze.]
...I'll think about it.
[Time to BOY SCAMPER OUTTA HERE, glancing back once in the doorway to make sure it's no trick.]