[He could push; there's the chink, the flash of throat, the foundation of everything open for him to destroy at will. He's more than clever enough, more than capable of following the track that his marks weave ahead of him through the brambles, and Cassel is flagging prey. Random and without direction, without a plan, without intent.
He waits, dark eyes steady and cold and deep, arms folded. He does not flinch, does not react, does not acknowledge the accusation. It slides off, and in its wake, Slevin's voice is low.]
private/video
He waits, dark eyes steady and cold and deep, arms folded. He does not flinch, does not react, does not acknowledge the accusation. It slides off, and in its wake, Slevin's voice is low.]
No?