endless depths

     ( What kind of a question was that? Now all he wanted to do was punch this guy in the face or get the hell away from him; both would be preferred. That smile, his voice, his energy; they were all wrong. Now Jim was no mind reader, and he wasn’t too good with emotions and all that crap, but he had instincts, and those haven’t failed him yet. ) 

He smiles once more, the skin around his eyes crinkling: the expression half sincere and half eerie on his face. His eyes are so dark there is no light reflected back out of them. Only darkness. Endless darkness. His smile widens. 

His lips pursed together slowly, forcing his throat to cough down about anything that strayed him off the line of neutrality. Casting away fear, uncomfortable suspension — He slowly forced out his syllables in a hauntingly tense tone of emotionless request, “… — Might I ask what warrants your authorization here?” His eyes never met the other, keeping himself downcast.

They did say the eyes were the windows into the soul.

"Did you forget already?" 

He takes a step forward, the movement stilted: awkward. As if he isn't used to walking on two legs or walking on solid ground. He takes care to swipe his fingers across every table: smudging finger prints onto the pristine metal.