"That's not my favorite thing to hear, I'll admit," Dresden says from his spot in the doorway. A grumble of stormy voice and narrowing eyes, gaze dipping to the floor as if drawn there by hook and string. "Whatever the Balfours are cooking up, it can't be any good. I'd give them the benefit of the doubt, but the only people it'd benefit are them. Anyone giving substances like that to a bunch of guests... I've seen plenty of cases involving that."
There's no way Dresden would ever trust people like the Balfours. Rich, out of touch, controlling people on a closed-loop estate that basically nobody could remember agreeing to visit, and weren't allowed to leave. He's wondering if it's a strip of Nevernever, locked up tight like someone's personal hunting ground; maybe it's just a warded human estate, and they're being kept as a social experiment by bored sociopathic warlocks.
Eventually, he realizes he's zoned out into those thoughts. His mind slipped away somewhere quiet and dark and thoughtful, while Matt's been finishing up with his impromptu bath. Slowly, he lifts his eyes up from the floor and fixes it into the reflection, on the ward Matt wears on his back; he thinks he could figure out what it's for, if he gets his hand on a book about it. Clearing his throat, he heaves off of the door's frame and heads into the bathroom properly, once more avoiding Matt's eye. This time obviously, openly. His voice no less easy, though, as he rocks forward and sets his hands on the vanity alongside Matt.
Rocking back on his heels, he drops his head between his shoulders and chuckles: " - what were you saying about the colors, anyways? They didn't look good on you?"
no subject
There's no way Dresden would ever trust people like the Balfours. Rich, out of touch, controlling people on a closed-loop estate that basically nobody could remember agreeing to visit, and weren't allowed to leave. He's wondering if it's a strip of Nevernever, locked up tight like someone's personal hunting ground; maybe it's just a warded human estate, and they're being kept as a social experiment by bored sociopathic warlocks.
Eventually, he realizes he's zoned out into those thoughts. His mind slipped away somewhere quiet and dark and thoughtful, while Matt's been finishing up with his impromptu bath. Slowly, he lifts his eyes up from the floor and fixes it into the reflection, on the ward Matt wears on his back; he thinks he could figure out what it's for, if he gets his hand on a book about it. Clearing his throat, he heaves off of the door's frame and heads into the bathroom properly, once more avoiding Matt's eye. This time obviously, openly. His voice no less easy, though, as he rocks forward and sets his hands on the vanity alongside Matt.
Rocking back on his heels, he drops his head between his shoulders and chuckles: " - what were you saying about the colors, anyways? They didn't look good on you?"