’ these moments laddle disgrace and infamy like medals. to some they laddle immortality. ’ from wilson fisk 🤓
@incruelty
"is it immortality you're after?" she does not bother to straighten in her seat at first, eyes trained upon his shoulders as she notes their tension and set, a smirk beginning to curl the corners of her lips. elbows remain propped on her knees which had been left apart, and spread wider still as she slowly leans backward, lounging against the cushioned back as it bobs along with her movement. "not sure we can swing that. infamy, on the other hand . . . that's easy." the soft sound of her tongue separating from the roof of her mouth is offered thereafter, and her head tilts, silver - blond locks spilling to one side as she regards him from across the room. "something tells me you want something more legitimate than that, though. or you did, anyway. maybe it's beyond that, now." it sounds like a concession, like admission of a necessary evil, of an unsavory truth. safe from his sight, katya does not mask the blatant appraisal in her gaze, as always looking to unpick him even from a distance, to understand something deeper than what is offered in his image. "it's possible you need to think on what it is you're really trying to achieve, here. it's hard to crush someone you still care for . . . especially when it's not your punches you'd be trying to pull. i can only do what you want if you know what that is." the amusement seems to mellow in both her expression and voice alike, features smoothed to neutrality should he choose to turn and take them in. "you want to think it over and get back to me?"
