“ as nice as any i suppose. ” the original turns, looks at marcel. if memory serves, the last time they’d met face to face he’d been delivering them the last of the white oak bullets. the bullet that he and elijah had fought over: him, for the release of death, and elijah to preserve if ever there came a time they’d need it. ironic now, given his fight had been for naught as he’d died mere hours later. “ surely the weather isn’t what you want to talk about ? small-talk, pleasantries … they’ve never been to your taste have they ? ”
“Not really.” Marcel didn’t dodge honesty. He would take on the nice chat until the nice chat broke, and evidently Finn wasn’t in the mood for the long version of all of this. “Just wondering if finding so many of your family in this city is going to be a good thing or a bad thing.” He’d roll his dice and take the chance. He hadn’t been there long enough to call it yet.