The Cross Cloaked in Mists
01-18-2014, 11:31 PM
Carlito "Sucre" Dalibor
When she began to reply the brute prepared himself for another sneer and averted his eyes in anticipation for the impact of the barbed response to come. When it didn't and surprise brought his eyes back to her face, Sucre found they had softened. A flutter in his chest caused his breath to catch. Oh, no! What had he done? This was what he'd wanted, yes? For her to let down her shields and be genuine, for her to smile, which she hadn't done yet. And he'd lied. He could either continue the lie and send her on a wild goose chase so he wouldn't have to deal with it OR he could kill the lie and deal with it immediately. Neither sounded like a good time.
"They call me Sucre. However.." The brute faltered for a second, torn between the very thing he was trying to gain from Twig and a private loathing. Dare he say it? No, not today. "..I'm not particularly fond of the name." His cover was smooth, the two sentences meshing together as if they belonged. Hypocrite! He asked her to trust and yet when it was his turn to reciprocate it was what? Too hard? After all this, especially the cross-bearing lie, was she not owed some kind of truth?
Now it was his turn to be sober. Idiot, Idiot! This wasn't turning out how he'd hoped. If only she'd just smiled and laughed, flirted with him and traded sarcastic swipes. But no, she had to be hard to win, hard to please. Ah, and there he went casting the blame on her when it was he who had lied and he who now wanted the conversation to end.
When she began to reply the brute prepared himself for another sneer and averted his eyes in anticipation for the impact of the barbed response to come. When it didn't and surprise brought his eyes back to her face, Sucre found they had softened. A flutter in his chest caused his breath to catch. Oh, no! What had he done? This was what he'd wanted, yes? For her to let down her shields and be genuine, for her to smile, which she hadn't done yet. And he'd lied. He could either continue the lie and send her on a wild goose chase so he wouldn't have to deal with it OR he could kill the lie and deal with it immediately. Neither sounded like a good time.
"They call me Sucre. However.." The brute faltered for a second, torn between the very thing he was trying to gain from Twig and a private loathing. Dare he say it? No, not today. "..I'm not particularly fond of the name." His cover was smooth, the two sentences meshing together as if they belonged. Hypocrite! He asked her to trust and yet when it was his turn to reciprocate it was what? Too hard? After all this, especially the cross-bearing lie, was she not owed some kind of truth?
Now it was his turn to be sober. Idiot, Idiot! This wasn't turning out how he'd hoped. If only she'd just smiled and laughed, flirted with him and traded sarcastic swipes. But no, she had to be hard to win, hard to please. Ah, and there he went casting the blame on her when it was he who had lied and he who now wanted the conversation to end.