@ezracarsonx
Ashcroft had been sitting absently at a table in the common room. Slender fingers rapping in succession on the expensive wood. It had been.. days. Days since his lighter had been taken, days since he'd been given a job, fucking.. days.. since he'd been able to see the flicker of flames. His actions.. attitude, even his appearance seemed to give the impression of some kind of addict. Of an addict jonesing as his gaze flickered around harshly, full lips pursing and his gaze shifting to stop at the window. Shrewd, expression cunning. He needed to do something, he needed the flicker of heat, the vivid intensity of white hot flames, and the longer it took, the more likely he was to do something, anything, to get it. To get out.
His head barely turned when he heard the thud of footsteps, focused entirely on something that wasn't exactly in front of him. After several seconds, however, his gaze shifted, and narrowed up at Ezra, bristling defensively. As if he's been considering something he shouldn't.
