[ That stills him. Those words, spoken softer, like there can ever be trust between strangers. Like the enemy ever does a thing but lie and lie and lie again. He stares hard at her, marking the cast of her eyes, the way she talks like she knows a goddamn thing about him and still chooses to risk closing the distance. They could kill each other, Carver knows. It wouldn’t matter much. It’s just what people do now and Shadowheart moves like she could, like she’s done it before, like she’s figured out this task takes skill and knows that Carver has it, too.
But she steps closer, and she says her piece, and—
Focus, Pope’s voice hisses in his ear. Don’t fuck this up, too.
Carver twitches. There’s only one real way she could know about what had to be done to his corpse. Either he told her, or someone else from home did, and she calls it trust. A practical, conditional trust. And lie or not, something about that just slots into place. ]
Okay, [ he replies softly. His eyes never leave her, not for a second. ] What’s the objective?
no subject
But she steps closer, and she says her piece, and—
Focus, Pope’s voice hisses in his ear. Don’t fuck this up, too.
Carver twitches. There’s only one real way she could know about what had to be done to his corpse. Either he told her, or someone else from home did, and she calls it trust. A practical, conditional trust. And lie or not, something about that just slots into place. ]
Okay, [ he replies softly. His eyes never leave her, not for a second. ] What’s the objective?