[ As Koby speaks, Silco's eyes fall to the stack of notes. They β along with the boy's answer β conveniently provide answers not just to what's been asked but beyond. More classified records; the suggestion that there are things worth hiding, whether from the house, nebulous entity that it is, or from anyone outside their little crew. The neatly collated notes, the carefully placed paperclips β it'd be too generous to say that Silco thinks of himself, but they're signs of a more analytical mind, of skills cultivated in place of purely physical strength. Granted, that's a surface-level take β there's always the chance that his notes will be utter gibberish, and all of Silco's speculation will be rendered moot.
Lightly, simply: ] Good.
[ Approval β another thread pulled through the loom. Easier to do when approval is so sought after. ]
Though let's hope it doesn't come to that.
[ He nods, then, at the pile by Koby's elbow, eyebrows rising slightly. ]
no subject
Lightly, simply: ] Good.
[ Approval β another thread pulled through the loom. Easier to do when approval is so sought after. ]
Though let's hope it doesn't come to that.
[ He nods, then, at the pile by Koby's elbow, eyebrows rising slightly. ]
βAnd how classified are these?