[ The question is one that has Archer pausing just as he makes to round the corner, Houndoom stuck to his side. He clasps his hands behind his back and turns to Silver, regarding him the way that a lion regards a cub belonging to a pride he’s just taken over.
And there’s a question hanging in the air of will he, won’t he answer. It teeters back, forth, back, forth.
Archer’s tolerance is thin even over the small group of Grunts that he acknowledges as somewhat useful enough for him to keep close. But as he looks at Silver he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’d be a nice addition to those few.
Maybe.
If Silver played his cards right.
And here, Archer draws himself to full height, looms over Silver like something woven out of cautionary tales ( beware ). ]
You are permitted to ask any question you see fit. [ Archer says, eyes gliding along the curve of Silver’s mask. ] But I am not obligated to give you an answer.
I understand. {Silver inclines his head to accompany the words. If the truth were being told Silver wasn't terribly interested in asking questions to people like Archer unless it was to better understand and execute any orders he may receive from them. Subordinates were made to follow, after all, their places was very rarely one to question much of anything.
All of this doesn't mean he'll follow Archer blindly.
That's a privilege for his specialized group.
And it also doesn't mean Silver doesn't know how to ask questions. He was very good at driving to the heart of the matter when he had someone pinned down and was on his way to removing their third fingernail in under a limit because he wouldn't give them a satisfying answers.
From under his mask Silver's eyes drop to inspect Archer's fingernails.}
Will you permit me the knowledge as to where it is we're going?
