But ultimately not worth being caught for. Though he knows Caspar must be nearly arrived, Nikos still tenses up at the sound of the door. His hand closes tight around his knife.
Then he relaxes, when he hears the whistle. Without self-consciousness, he gives the answering whistle. Not nearly as skilled at it. It's a mating call, Caspar had told him, once, and Nikos had scowled, because that's what he does when anyone says anything to him. It's the inside that counts, that feels differently; the soft stupid heart and spleen or whatever.
He's on his feet when Caspar tracks the whistle to him. The corpse is quite dead. A big man, taller than either of them, and broad-shouldered. His fine clothes look a little less fine now that they're covered in mud and warehouse dust and sweat, from the running he did. Face-down in a pool of his own blood. His cut throat is likewise concealed.]
no subject
But ultimately not worth being caught for. Though he knows Caspar must be nearly arrived, Nikos still tenses up at the sound of the door. His hand closes tight around his knife.
Then he relaxes, when he hears the whistle. Without self-consciousness, he gives the answering whistle. Not nearly as skilled at it. It's a mating call, Caspar had told him, once, and Nikos had scowled, because that's what he does when anyone says anything to him. It's the inside that counts, that feels differently; the soft stupid heart and spleen or whatever.
He's on his feet when Caspar tracks the whistle to him. The corpse is quite dead. A big man, taller than either of them, and broad-shouldered. His fine clothes look a little less fine now that they're covered in mud and warehouse dust and sweat, from the running he did. Face-down in a pool of his own blood. His cut throat is likewise concealed.]
He was a bitch to bring down.
[Complaining, as always.]