[Now that earns a hardened stare, talk about gods and their meddling — or perhaps things that would like to call themselves gods, viewing the lives of mortals as little more than playthings. Entertainment, a means to an unknowable end.
His shoulders stiffen more than they already are, and Weir straightens as though an iron rod had been inserted along his spine.]
Last I was in a situation where gods wanted to meddle, death was the final expectation.
[Which doesn’t bode well. He drums blunted nails against the table, then— Hell with it, snatches up the pastry with calloused fingers.]
no subject
His shoulders stiffen more than they already are, and Weir straightens as though an iron rod had been inserted along his spine.]
Last I was in a situation where gods wanted to meddle, death was the final expectation.
[Which doesn’t bode well. He drums blunted nails against the table, then— Hell with it, snatches up the pastry with calloused fingers.]
Fucking hell.