"You simply do." From anyone else, that might have sounded like an empty platitude, but from Alastor, he clearly believed it. He was too self-possessed not to. No one else had ever had to tell him he was good at something; he knew when he was, and he knew when to change course, when he wasn't. He wasn't one for hammering away at something that didn't come naturally to him, and it was natural enough, to slit his father's throat and cut him into pieces and leave him in the swamps. It was natural enough, everything that came after that. If it hadn't been, if the learning curve was too sharp, he might have stopped.
He gestured vaguely in the air and thought, ah, might as well, and conjured up another smoke without removing the case from his pocket. This one wasn't a cigarette, but a proper and stiff cigar he'd left lying on the end table in his sitting room, back in hell. This time, he blew on the end to light it, the brimstone of his breath springing it to life. And after a puff, he offered it to Lotte, just to see what she would do.
"What disadvantage do you fancy for yourself, my dear? You're clearly doing better than I am." Was he mocking her for implying as much? Maybe. His glasses glinted in the firelight, spreading a bright and colourful crackle of light over his eyes. "We can do it as many times as you like."
no subject
"You simply do." From anyone else, that might have sounded like an empty platitude, but from Alastor, he clearly believed it. He was too self-possessed not to. No one else had ever had to tell him he was good at something; he knew when he was, and he knew when to change course, when he wasn't. He wasn't one for hammering away at something that didn't come naturally to him, and it was natural enough, to slit his father's throat and cut him into pieces and leave him in the swamps. It was natural enough, everything that came after that. If it hadn't been, if the learning curve was too sharp, he might have stopped.
He gestured vaguely in the air and thought, ah, might as well, and conjured up another smoke without removing the case from his pocket. This one wasn't a cigarette, but a proper and stiff cigar he'd left lying on the end table in his sitting room, back in hell. This time, he blew on the end to light it, the brimstone of his breath springing it to life. And after a puff, he offered it to Lotte, just to see what she would do.
"What disadvantage do you fancy for yourself, my dear? You're clearly doing better than I am." Was he mocking her for implying as much? Maybe. His glasses glinted in the firelight, spreading a bright and colourful crackle of light over his eyes. "We can do it as many times as you like."