"You." His voice is wavering between fury and panic, both of them crowding in his throat until there's no room to breathe. "You touch, you lay a finger on any of mine, and - "
And what? What will he do, then? The smile on Nicholas Rosse's face begs the question. He could go after the Morningstar, go after the heishŏudăng liúmáng like long ago and once upon a time when there wasn't so much
(so many)
at stake and a 'no business' rule kept people safe, and what would it matter, in the end? Because it would be too late. And then nothing would matter, nothing at all.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-06-15 10:39 am (UTC)And what? What will he do, then? The smile on Nicholas Rosse's face begs the question. He could go after the Morningstar, go after the heishŏudăng liúmáng like long ago and once upon a time when there wasn't so much
(so many)
at stake and a 'no business' rule kept people safe, and what would it matter, in the end? Because it would be too late. And then nothing would matter, nothing at all.
Crowley looks like he's about to be sick.
"Yes," he corrects himself. "Sir."
"Very generous, sir."