Ah, yeah. Don't take it personally. [Greed brings the glass up to his face, but waits to take a pull.] She's not exactly the friendliest one of the bunch. [He tilts the drink in his hand as he shoots a pleasant look Kamora's way. The cat of the hour has long since taken up residence on her usual podium; her tail lashing briskly along the stack of name cards and dollars like it somehow offended her.]
[The Sin turns his attention back to Noi.] Don't know what a Gura-Gura is. [He takes a serving of ice and scotch into his mouth, crunches his teeth once, then swallows the whole combination down.] But you're right. I'm sure she could give whoever he is a run for his money.
[And oh, he knows that look anywhere. Running a place like this, running a place like before, there is no short supply of people curious to see what he's made of. So, he meets the look with a thin smile; one dastardly, coy, and every bit as wicked as his given sin.]
Ha - ! Jump right into it, don't you? I like your enthusiasm. [The end of his tail chitters as it brushes against the floor. He's excited, intrigued. This person, whoever they are, has no hesitation at all, do they? It's as if whatever filter they may (or may not) have had is gone, letting all their wants spill out as plain as day.]
[Honestly? It's a nice change of pace.]
[The Sin sets his glass down on one of the barrels nearby and gives the brim of it a thoughtful tap of his claw. Znnk.] No, it doesn't count. But I meant what I said, at least. You're an interesting one. [He pulls his hand away and settles it on the curve of his hip.]
But now you're asking the right questions. And I hate to disappoint, but it would be kind of rude of me to fight in my own Fight Night, wouldn't it? [Greed forces a hum to hammer in his chest, turning his throat jittery with the vibration.] People might start getting the wrong idea about me, and that's bad for business.
Tell you what. [His eyes dart to Noi's muscles, to the bulk of them, and his expression festers wild on his jaw.] When we aren't placing live bets, why don't you come on by? Show me everything you're made of, friend. And I promise, I'll return the favor.
First thing's first - [The former homunculus guides his nails across his collarbone, striking softly at the fabric of his shirt.] - the name's Greed. What do I call you?
no subject
[The Sin turns his attention back to Noi.] Don't know what a Gura-Gura is. [He takes a serving of ice and scotch into his mouth, crunches his teeth once, then swallows the whole combination down.] But you're right. I'm sure she could give whoever he is a run for his money.
[And oh, he knows that look anywhere. Running a place like this, running a place like before, there is no short supply of people curious to see what he's made of. So, he meets the look with a thin smile; one dastardly, coy, and every bit as wicked as his given sin.]
Ha - ! Jump right into it, don't you? I like your enthusiasm. [The end of his tail chitters as it brushes against the floor. He's excited, intrigued. This person, whoever they are, has no hesitation at all, do they? It's as if whatever filter they may (or may not) have had is gone, letting all their wants spill out as plain as day.]
[Honestly? It's a nice change of pace.]
[The Sin sets his glass down on one of the barrels nearby and gives the brim of it a thoughtful tap of his claw. Znnk.] No, it doesn't count. But I meant what I said, at least. You're an interesting one. [He pulls his hand away and settles it on the curve of his hip.]
But now you're asking the right questions. And I hate to disappoint, but it would be kind of rude of me to fight in my own Fight Night, wouldn't it? [Greed forces a hum to hammer in his chest, turning his throat jittery with the vibration.] People might start getting the wrong idea about me, and that's bad for business.
Tell you what. [His eyes dart to Noi's muscles, to the bulk of them, and his expression festers wild on his jaw.] When we aren't placing live bets, why don't you come on by? Show me everything you're made of, friend. And I promise, I'll return the favor.
First thing's first - [The former homunculus guides his nails across his collarbone, striking softly at the fabric of his shirt.] - the name's Greed. What do I call you?