ㅤ
Feitan wasn't one for beating around the bush, and the people blessed by his will to have a conversation could be counted on the fingers of one hand; Phinks would even dare to complain for how chatty he was with him, the ungrateful man. Kortopi, on the other hand,
&&.
ㅤ
He tipped the book, still open, onto his lap to keep his place, and glanced at the third party, connected to Feitan by a line of blood on the floor.
“ Has this one given up yet? “
ㅤ
&&.
allowed a peaceful, silent space, with just some small talk here and there. a wonderful change that was sometimes needed.
⠀⠀“Uh, not my type of book. Is it interesting?”
calm gaze moves from the inked words to the bloody, whimpering man tied to a chair.
&&.
ㅤ
ㅤ
head instantly turns in the direction of the unexpected company.
Feitan was merciful to leave his victim a moment to breath as he walked towards his teammate, lazily wiping the blood off his surgical gloves over the butcher apron he wore.
⠀⠀“What are you reading?”
ㅤ
Kortopi doesn’t seem to care, funnily enough. He’s just here for the book he left, having returned successfully from his orders and flopping down after opening it to where he left off, entirely indifferent to the “guest”’s whimpers and groans of pain.
( / ◉)📖🎶