[ You're too weak to finish the job, he almost wants to say. The flowers really do say it, though whether they're talking to Kell or Holland is another question entirely. (It's Holland.)
Holland levels Kell the same angry stare that he's held onto since he first laid eyes on him. His voice remains calm, unaffected, but for a furrow in his brow. If Kell had finished the job, he wouldn't be here. If Kell had just given up the stone, none of this would have happened.
You owe him, you hate that, don't you? the flowers turn mocking, and no amount of Holland's glares seem to affect them. If you'd won, where would you be? Bleeding into a cup?
Holland keeps his anger tamped down, fist clenching tightly. It simmers and boils, but remains only in his single, grey-green eye, and in his frown. He hates this. He hates Kell even more. He's powerless in a new way, and Kell is both all that he has, and all that he hates. ]
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[ You're too weak to finish the job, he almost wants to say. The flowers really do say it, though whether they're talking to Kell or Holland is another question entirely. (It's Holland.)
Holland levels Kell the same angry stare that he's held onto since he first laid eyes on him. His voice remains calm, unaffected, but for a furrow in his brow. If Kell had finished the job, he wouldn't be here. If Kell had just given up the stone, none of this would have happened.
You owe him, you hate that, don't you? the flowers turn mocking, and no amount of Holland's glares seem to affect them. If you'd won, where would you be? Bleeding into a cup?
Holland keeps his anger tamped down, fist clenching tightly. It simmers and boils, but remains only in his single, grey-green eye, and in his frown. He hates this. He hates Kell even more. He's powerless in a new way, and Kell is both all that he has, and all that he hates. ]
What exactly did you think would happen?