[Knives. If he were unwise, he would delve a little further into this moniker that must be adhered to, unless a man has a wish to be skewered on the tip of a kitchen knife. He'd ask about it. But maybe this isn't the time. The man's kneejerk anger barely simmers before he's ushering him a command from the other side of the bookshelf. V huffs out a breath.]
Knives, then. How fitting for you.
[SINCE YOU JUST TRIED TO STAB HIM
The bookshelf deems the threat gone, apparently, because now it's sliding back over and slotting into its original spot. V watches it in his periphery but slides his attention back to Knives quickly enough. He doesn't seem tense, though his tone is edged with weary sarcasm.]
Perhaps it doesn't like violence between two people just having small talk.
no subject
Knives, then. How fitting for you.
[SINCE YOU JUST TRIED TO STAB HIM
The bookshelf deems the threat gone, apparently, because now it's sliding back over and slotting into its original spot. V watches it in his periphery but slides his attention back to Knives quickly enough. He doesn't seem tense, though his tone is edged with weary sarcasm.]
Perhaps it doesn't like violence between two people just having small talk.