Jim Moriarty

James Moriarty || FC: Ian Somerhalder || Pureblood || 16 || 6th Year || Slytherin

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GANG WAR - Lucifer and Jim

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Lucifer rolled over lazily at JIm’s words. “You’re starting to plan already, aren’t you?” he asked with a smirk. If Jim had a plan, there was no doubt that it was a good one. They probably couldn’t kill Rogers, since that would create a large fuss, but they could certainly do all in their power to get back at them. 

"He has a rather large attatchment to his friends," Lucifer continued, starting to think about ways to get at Rogers. "He and Tony are apparently very close.” He remembered Steve had been very touchy about that subject. If they could exploit that link, it would be two birds with one stone. Tony always needed a reminder of who he had left behind, and Steve needed to learn his place. They could get to one or the other and force a situation that would end badly for both Steve and Tony.

[moriarty-the-real]

"It's how I pass time," he purred back, engaging his mentally stored files. Steve Rogers was no mystery, and his touchy subjects weren't either. "I hear he has quite a bond with his mother." He sat up straight, smoothing down his uniform. "We could utterly destroy him straight away, but I'd much rather prefer we play with them all a little first. Let's anger him."

Jim smirked, nodding to Lucifer's words in agreement. They were both on the same track. "Indeed, Starkie might just be pulled into this too~. They have that pack mentality. This should be fun." They had never truly forgiven Tony for his abandonment. Jim was disappointed more than anything. Now they would be interacting again and it would be like old times, except perhaps a little more rough. "First, we declare our intentions. Let's leave a little message, shall we?" Business was slow and personal life was slower, so why not start some fires?

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GANG WAR - Lucifer and Jim

Lucifer was laying on the floor of the Slytherin common room, with Jim on a sofa somewhere behind him. He was bored and tired, the exams really having taken their toll. As much as he liked to claim that he didn’t study, he had to get good grades or else his father would be less than pleased. And he liked to avoid getting on his father’s bad side. 

They talked a bit, and Lucifer began to get into the vein of annoying people, Tony included. But the one person who he really wanted to go after was Steve. “We were separated, and I never got to teach him his place,” he half-whined to Jim.

[moriarty-the-real]

Exams, like most things, were repetitive, boring and he didn't agree with them. He wasn't even sure why he still tolerated doing them, considering he scarcely needed any of the 'qualifications' they granted him. Once you learned how to correspond your responses and demonstrations to the rules, there was no challenge. You didn't have to be so much correct with your answers, as obedient to rules they had previously established -- and blind obedience wasn't something he accepted lightly. Even more so when you don't agree with the pointless moral guides they follow. The only positive was that it was fun to whimsically pretend you agreed.

Nothing interesting, just an abundance of students stressing over the folly. He had been listening to Lucifer explain his encounter with Rogers for a while now. It sounded a lot like the Puff had indeed managed to get off easy. "We can't have that," he concluded darkly, a small smirk being the only indication of his thoughts. 

[dreamlordsdream-blog]

Really? 

I was going with Velociraptor, but I suppose that works as well.

[moriarty-the-real]

You're not nearly that unjustly infamous.

  Yet.

[dreamlordsdream-blog]

Someone just told me that I look like a dinosaur? 

They wouldn’t even tell me which one.

[moriarty-the-real]

Protarchaopteryx.

[moriarty-the-real]

death (dĕth)n. 1. The act of dying; termination of life. 2. The state of being dead. 3. The cause of dying. 4. A manner of dying. 5. often Death A personification of the destroyer of life, usually represented as a skeleton holding a scythe. 6.a. Bloodshed; murder.b. Execution.

[moriarty-the-real]

gold·fish (gōld′fĭsh′)n. pl. goldfish or gold·fish·es A freshwater fish (Carassius auratus) native to eastern Asia, usually having brassy or reddish coloring and bred in many ornamental forms as an aquarium fish.

[moriarty-the-real]

Visit Original Link

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The Final Problem || Sherlock & Moriarty

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Sherlock watched Jim break his wand. The wand he had since he was eleven. It was no problem though. It would be restored later. He could afford to look anything but solemn right now. There wasn’t time for things like that. He watched Jim, watched him try and get something ‘extra’ from all his calculated glances elsewhere. He knew the other was trying to piece pointless things into something. Sherlock smirked inwardly. Things were still going to plan, and this far into the game that was a good thing.

He stepped forward, looking over the ledge curiously, making it seem as if he was calculating how he could get out of it. Sherlock continued to look down a while before he started chuckling. It started to crescendo as he looked back at Jim from the ground below them. “I don’t think so.” He replied looking as if entertained by the other’s words now.

"I’m safe." He repeated. Looking beyond the balcony to the assassin he could clearly see.  "There must be a code, a word, a phrase. Something in case something goes wrong." He smirked, knowing that there clearly was. There were close now. Maybe a step between them as they shared their final battle of wits. Something that Sherlock was now sure he wouldn’t miss all that much.

[moriarty-the-real]

He stared coldly towards Sherlock, becoming increasingly agitated at the laughter. “What is it now?!” he growled with aggression, impatiently waiting for a reply. What could he have missed? He wore his moods like masks; they could change just as fast as you could replace them. And so, his expression lightened greatly as Sherlock moved closer, offering his explanation. Possible outcome two, he thought. He chimed in to Sherlock’s laughter with slight detachment. “Of course. Of course.. You think that so long as you have me, that you’re safe? That I’ll just call them off and we’ll all go home? Of course…” He shook his head. There was something shining in his eyes, like the light you would see in a child’s gaze after having witnessed something amazing.  

They had both become attached to this game, not in a sentimental way, yet in the way you would appreciate a ventilator that kept you breathing. It wasn't wanted, it was invasive and cumbersome and generally inconvenient, but it was needed, it took away the dull monotone of life. That’s what life was – it was boring. It wasn’t even worth living without going to this effort to make it interesting. And, even then, was it enough? Stagnancy was the end of all great minds, but the game, on the other hand, was ever-changing. And it was a battle with many victims. Many.. sacrifices, in fact. “Thank you, Sherlock.”

He didn’t allow a single moment for Sherlock to react, perhaps even to take it in. One hand slipped under his coat, fingers arching over the cold handle of a gun. The other moved up to Sherlock’s tie. His fingers grasped around it firmly, and yanked the other’s entire body closer. He laid a chaste kiss on Sherlock’s lips, perhaps completely against what the other would expect him to do, then let go. His other hand ripped the gun out from under his robe straight afterwards, and the look on Sherlock’s face could only make him smile widely. All of this, in a matter of a second or two. He positioned the muzzle of the gun into his own mouth, aimed directly upwards.

“I win”, came his last thought.

He fired the trigger.

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The Final Problem || Sherlock & Moriarty

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Sherlock was careful of his glancing, making sure not to glance repeatedly in certain areas. Knowing that he was being watched very close. Jim was watching his every move, maybe even counting how many times he had breathed in the past ten minutes. Sherlock wasn’t surprised by this though, this was important to him and Jim. It was the final move. Only two pieces were left on the board, them. There might’ve been outsiders, for the consequences, from both sides. But at the moment it was just them. An eagle and a snake. Both kings alone on the chessboard, only with each other to beat. And Sherlock had ensured he would be the winner.

There were many reasons the Astronomy tower was chosen. Between Dumbledore’s death and his overdose, there was no other place that would be more perfect for his own ‘death’. He stepped closer to the shorter male, glancing casually over the balcony. He could spy one wizard far off, that was perfectly stationed to where the Astronomy tower was. Given the perfect view to his death, but from here he couldn’t tell who it was, but he could guess. John would be here soon, and he needed to work in a timely fashion. John couldn’t be here until it was time so he had to work fast.

His eyes narrowed at the other’s words. He and Mycroft had predicted this would be used somehow against Sherlock.  Three victims. His mind was easily able to supply him the names in this exact order of three, John, Tony and Gregory. They were the three. There was no question. Jim wouldn’t pick anyone else. They were other’s he could possibly choose, but he wouldn’t die for them like he would die for those three. He kept his face neutral at the request though. “No wands.” He supplied, throwing Jim his wand. “I’m safe either way.”

[moriarty-the-real]

It was a fragile game now. Each move counted. It was question after analysis after question. Was that a move meant to mislead? Was that a step towards where he needed his final piece to be? It was all questions, calculations and estimations. Perhaps even psychology. But theirs weren't minds easily understood, let alone predicted.

He caught the wand without taking his eyes far from Sherlock’s, then scanning it to certify it was indeed Sherlock’s wand, before snapping it clean in half and tossing its carcass aside. The gentle winter breeze blew against the pieces and rolled them along the stone floor. It was the only sound there was for a few moments. “Safe isn’t the word I would use. This was so easy, Sherlock. So easy. Have you ever sat and thought about the sheer amount of things I’ve done over the past years? And you didn’t stop any of it. ANY OF IT.” He rested his face in his palm for a few moments, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Oh, well.” He stepped forwards a few steps. He counted each spot in the tower that had been granted even a second longer than a normal glance from Sherlock, but it wasn’t quite that simple. It never was. There was no doubt both of them were attempting to mislead the other. They both had tricks they were concealing. “I think we both know quite well why here. I think we also both know just how much you care for those people. You’re not going to self-preserve, you’re just not that strong anymore.” He seemed disgusted with those words. “You may as well get this over with. Off you pop, Sherly.” He gestured towards the edge with a smile.

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The Final Problem || Sherlock & Moriarty

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Sherlock watched Jim until the phone was turned off. He took the moment to look around, as if seeing this part of the tower for the first time, which it was not. Just being here the day before.  Yet here he was. He was ready, everything had been prepared, everything was done. The hardest part was all that came after. This was the end of him for a while. He would take another name. Sherlock Holmes would be lost to the grave for an uncertain amount of time, while a shadow took care of all that needed to be taken care of.

The Battle of the Astronomy Tower, 1997, the death of Albus Dumbledore. All this information rattled out at the top of his head. Quite ironic that he would be falling to his death such as ‘One of the Greatest Wizards of All Time” had. He should probably consider it a honor, but he didn’t.

“I must commend you on the scenery. Any specific purpose for the Astronomy Tower?” He questioned, although he already knew. He already knew it was going to take place here, weeks in advance. Which is why everything was preset. 

[moriarty-the-real]

Moriarty shadowed his gaze, absorbing everything Sherlock did. He had analyzed every inch of the tower himself, so this must have been the search and piecing together of his escape route. Every situation called for one in some shape or form. Some things could hardly be classified as an escape, but if they worked to avoid a worse fate than what they wound up meeting, it was just that. But Sherlock - he wasn’t allowed to escape the fate planned for him. Moriarty was as much relying on his people as he was himself now - because if something called for his own departure, it would be their eyes that certified Sherlock’s fall.

“I’m glad you like it. Oh, you know. Mainly aesthetics,” he shrugged. They both knew exactly why this place was chosen specifically. They also knew what was planned, what the script for tonight’s events said. Whether either would follow those instructions closely was yet to be decided. He didn’t waste any more time. “I think you know what’s going on out there.” He listlessly gestured out over the edge of the tower, directing Sherlock’s gaze down over the grounds.

“Three is the magic number~!” he announced. “Three targets, three killing curses… three victims.” His eyes scanned the horizon; and like targets on a radar he pinpointed the location of each person, exactly where they were. Each in the gaze of his assassins. He slowly snaked his cold gaze back to Sherlock. There were also three possible outcomes he could categorize separately, but only two of them held a majority chance of occurring. And only those two could he possibly accept. “Throw me your wand now. Let’s not make this difficult.” 

[high-functioning-wizard-deactiv]

The Final Problem || Sherlock & Moriarty

I’m waiting… - JM x

Sherlock looked at the backlit screen of the Muggle device unimpressed. He had sent John off thinking exactly what he should be. Frustrated, it wasn’t the easiest way to leave his last conversation with John, but it worked. That was all the mattered at this point. Sentiment saved to the last of his priorities now that the time was here.

The genius made his way up the staircase. Taking his time. Kicking the side of the wall to warn the hidden figure that it was almost time. He had been prepared by Mycroft and knew what was to happen

When he reached to the top he was unsurprised to see the Slytherin in all black, sitting on the railing that looked over the entrance of Hogwarts. The older wizard was playing some Merlin-awful music. Only picking up ‘Staying Alive’ before completely tuning it out. Sherlock’s heels clicking as he walked forward. Making sure his presence was known.

[moriarty-the-real]

As soon as the text was sent he let himself rest back against the pillar on one side of the rail. He continued to stare at the phone resting in his palm, a small smile appearing when the ‘delivered’ notice clicked into view. Across the courtyard, concealed within one of the gate towers, Sebastian would be waiting in place. He didn’t need to see his tiger to know he would be there; Sebastian would never defy him. Bribing and ‘an-eye-for-an-eye’-type deals kept his other people in place. Everyone was attracted to profit. People would betray even their own kind for gain. No one would disturb them, which worked out well for him.

He looked slightly disappointed, slightly disheartened even, in Sherlock. It was the day of the Fall; the solution to the final problem. ‘Bathos’ was the last word he would want anyone to relate to this event. He would make it live up to all expectations, especially his own. He wanted to cause effects, far more than he had already tainted the castle grounds with. And that was quite the feat. 

He clicked his phone once again, perfectly timed for when he knew Sherlock would arrive. He selected a song; one he knew would fit the scene and provide an ironic humour. There was more to it, but it didn’t need saying. Staying alive. He glanced across as Sherlock made his way onto the platform, barely acknowledging his presence at first. “Here we are at last, Sherlock...” He called out over the music, before shutting off the phone.

[moriarty-the-real]

Shot in the Dark || Moriarty & Tony

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Tony narrowed his eyes as the other spoke. “Inglese, per favore. O italiano.” They could play this game for hours if they wanted, each of them speaking in language the other didn’t understand just to annoy. He clearly didn’t believe any of Moriarty’s words, but he smiled at him anyway. “Glad we agree on this.”

"Don’t be so sure about this. I’m not going to let you touch him." He responded, glaring back at him. Tony didn’t bother to hide his amusement when he felt the wand. He wasn’t afraid. But it wasn’t worth it- not at that moment, anyway. The time for that would come soon. Tony was sure of this. He slowly let go of the tie once he saw the amused smile on the other’s face and turned away as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, clenching his fists. A moment later he turned back to Moriarty and punched him in the face, glaring down at him. He knew he shouldn’t have done this, but it felt so good to do it, let out his anger on the person who caused it in the first place. He deserved this. "Yeah, I’m pretty sure we’re done here, Pixie. Thank you for that." He said with a satisfied smile.

[moriarty-the-real]

"As you wish, Starkie," he replied in a monotone. He could've chosen to speak in any of a variety of languages, had he the time to play more games. "It's about time we agreed on something again, friend. I guess now it's a matter of who is the better at fulfilling their promises." 

He smirked slightly, but stayed quiet. Tony didn't have a scrap of say in the matter, but taunting him continuously would just mean their meeting would go on for longer than needed. It was somewhat adorable that he thought he could stop Moriarty, especially after so many others had tried and failed. He just waited, taking in Tony's features and reading him like he would a book. Just those little details that filled in blanks, because why not? Even when his tie was released, he kept his wand pointed to Tony. Those subtle movements, the minutiae, they told him he wasn't quite done. So he waited, a darkly amused twist morphing his normal, gently sinister smile. Of course, it was wiped away quite soon after once Tony's fist collided with his face. He stumbled back, grabbing onto the large desk to steady himself. It wasn't moments after when he had balanced himself enough to aim an accurate target onto Tony, and in reply to his last words he quickly hissed the incantation to a spell. "Stupefy!" 

A powerful red light shot out of his wand, hitting Tony square in the chest and sending him back into the nearest bookcase. The impact caused books to scatter across the floor and pile over Tony's stunned body. Once the dust had settled, he lowered his wand and straightened his posture. "No..Now we're done here~," he growled before concealing his wand away. Moriarty stepped over the books as he made his way to the door to leave, gently running a finger over the area on his face where he'd been hit. 

[moriarty-the-real]

Shot in the Dark || Moriarty & Tony

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Tony let himself laugh bitterly at Moriarty’s suggestion, then shook his head. “Oh, no. Don’t bother. I think I’ve had enough stupid situations for a while now.” He muttered, slightly waving his hand, vaguely remembering the time they blew up the dorm.

"I don’t need you telling me what I need or don’t need," The Ravenclaw commented. He acted on his instincts. He’d been doing this most of his life now. Most of the time he would regret it later after he saw what damage he’d done, but the rest of the time he wouldn’t mind. Right then with Moriarty- he knew he was pushing his luck, and deep down he hoped he wouldn’t have to regret it later. He narrowed his eyes, never breaking the eye-contact.

He slightly loosened his grip on the green-silver tie as Moriarty talked. Tony made sure to show the hatred he felt towards him. His instincts told him to punch the Slytherin in the face or just hex him. But that would be too easy- a coward move. And he wasn’t a coward. He wasn’t afraid of anything. If protecting his close friends and the ones he considered family meant that he would get hurt in the process, he would do it. ”Here’s something you don’t know about me. If I promise something, I make sure it happens.” Tony said, tightening his grip on the tie again. “Understood?”

[moriarty-the-real]

"Somehow I don't believe that," he replied nonchalantly, glancing up and down Tony's figure. If Sherlock weren't about to die, Tony would certainly just go straight back to his old ways. He'd probably die himself in another explosion or something. Maybe Moriarty was helping the poor thing by removing Sherly from his life. 

He smirked slightly and nodded along to Stark's words, as if he actually believed them. "Après moi, le déluge." He darkened his gaze once more, showing no signs of being at all affected by Tony's words. "Of course I understand." When didn't he? That still wasn't to say he credited Tony's words - he didn't believe them at all. Maybe they were underestimating each other, but so long as those levels were a match, it was no wrong step in the game. "Then we're both men of our words." 

"If you catch me, you'll kill me. If I catch him, I'll kill him. Promise~! We don't really need to sit and wonder who is cat and who is mouse in this situation, do we? Because either way, I know how to avoid the mousetrap, and he," his voice lowered to a whisper, "does not." He let a long moment pass, glaring straight ahead into his foe's eyes. "Let go of me now, Starkie. I'm done sending my message; .. don't make me have to send another one." He angled his wand now, lightly jabbing Tony's side to make sure he knew it was there. "It would be a dull waste of both of our time, wouldn't it? I have to go set up one mousetrap, and apparently, you have to go set up one for me, too." He chuckled slightly, a light amused sparkle glinting in his eyes.  

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[moriarty-the-real]

Shot in the Dark || Moriarty & Tony

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Tony frowned. Was Ji- Moriarty, Moriarty - he hated himself a bit every time had to remind that to himself - threatening him? Right. Tony shook his head. Definitely a waste of time and he should have known that. Clearly the guy had too much free time in his hands. “Let me just correct you there, Pixie,” He raised a hand once Moriarty paused, “Stupid situations come to me, I don’t put myself in them. But I appreciate the fact that you care so much to keep me entertained and put me in a stupid situation.”

He wouldn’t lie - only to himself, it was impossible for him to admit such thing to others - he slowly got a bit worried as the other continued talking. Maybe it wasn’t a waste of time after all. Tony ran a hand through his hair and look away for a short moment. Something was going to happen soon. Moriarty was planning something big and he was involved in a way, whether he wanted to or not. And he didn’t, but it wasn’t like he had any choice there. There was no way he could pretend now that this conversation never happened like he planned.

"I don’t do binge drinking anymore. Sorry to disappoint you." Tony replied with a shrug as he stood up and walked closer to Moriarty, grabbing the other guy from his tie and looking into his eyes. "This is my warning for you, Pixie. Touch someone I know, anyone, and I’ll make sure myself you wouldn’t see daylight for the rest of your life.”

[moriarty-the-real]

He raised an eyebrow as Tony raised his hand to stop him. He slowly tilted his head to one side, half in impatience and half in diminishing curiosity. "You should've come to me now and then, over the years.. I could've found plenty of stupid situations for you to happily engulf yourself in."

A small sly smirk twitched the side of his lip as he watched Tony carefully. Now fate was in Tony's hands. Moriarty had given him fair warning - which was more than any other target had gotten, save John - and whether there would be one dead or two dead was now in Stark's hands. It may have been hard for him to act rationally, to act on self-preservation rather than presentation, but he knew that, deep down, Starkie could certainly pull it off. He could get out of it alive if he really tried. And good luck to him.

"Oh. How pointless," he mused. "You're going to need it - the drinks. You didn't need it before. You live a privileged life and look at you... throwing it away~. Nah; you won't even need to try soon enough."  He didn't make any defensive or offensive movements as Tony stood, approached and grabbed him. That isn't to say he didn't react, however. His facial expression changed from a placid expression into something far more displeased. In fact, Moriarty looked terribly bored, and almost disgusted. He glared right back into Stark's eyes with a sharp precision, as cold as a basilisk's gaze. Although his wand was ready to be used, held in poise between his fingers and palm, he didn't even bother to point it Tony's way. "You're all talk, Starkie. We'll see, won't we? We'll see." He nodded slightly, still making sure to maintain his absolute eye-contact. He lowered his tone to a hiss and whispered, "Bend and break, Starkie. You're just another domino soon to fall." 

[moriarty-the-real]

Shot in the Dark || Moriarty & Tony

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He gave Moriarty a nod as the Slytherin narrowed his eyes. Yes, perhaps it wasn’t the brightest thing to do, and he had the feeling that he would regret that at some point, but at that moment it didn’t much matter to the Ravenclaw. “But I’m sure you could handle that every now and then,” Tony slightly tilted his head to the side as if to challenge the other, watching every move him made. 

"Glad to know I’ve entertained you, Pixie," He replied as he moved to sit on a table, fiddling with his wand. Now with knowing that they were only there so Moriarty would warn him - or whatever - Tony let himself relax a bit. But only a bit; it was still Jim there with him. "You should just get to your point and it will be over in no time. We’re both busy, aren’t we? What is it?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow. He had no time for games right now, he wanted to be over this and return to the common room, to pretend this meeting never happened.

[moriarty-the-real]

Moriarty rolled his eyes, confirming to himself that even though Tony hadn't lost all his intellect over the mind-numbing years, he certainly had an influx of stupidity. Challenging him, even in the most subtle of movements, wasn't a smart idea at all. Especially in this situation, surely. "Wrong. I've spent far too much time being bored. Searching for distractions.. I'm done searching. That's actually why I'm here." 

He kept his eye on Tony, subtly fixing his grip on his own wand somewhat, just in case Moriarty lost his ability to sit and listen and talk, and needed something more exciting. "Very busy." He smiled slightly. "As I said, I like you; I don't want to see you dead - it would be very disheartening. You have potential. Don't get in my way, Starkie, and don't do anything stupid that will mean you get killed. Of course, you're always putting yourself into stupid situations. But this time it's me putting you there." His instructions to his people were "execute if: a) the target causes too much trouble, or b) they receive the signal." B was out of Tony's control, of course. Moriarty would be disappointed to have to sponsor his murder, but if it had to be done, he would do it. That being said, he didn't believe it would come to that. So the only thing to prevent was option A. Knowing Tony, he would be a problem. And knowing his possible hired assassin, who may not have been the best match for Tony (but was far too ironic a match to pass up), it would be hard keeping him in line.

"And it's best to detach yourself now. I sense months of depression ahead for you. Maybe go back to binge drinking, Starkie, it suited you." 

[moriarty-the-real]

Shot in the Dark || Moriarty & Tony

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He tried to not narrow his eyes when he heard the old nickname. Ji- No, Moriarty knew that he didn’t like being called Starkie nowadays as much as he didn’t like being called Anthony, but he wouldn’t let him enjoy it. He had enough just from Tony coming to the library in the end. Tony moved from the door, a fake smile on his face. “It’s been quite a while, Pixie.” He replied as he watched every move the other made, keeping his wand in ready just in case he got bored with talking.

As Moriarty talked, Tony leaned against a bookcase with a raised eyebrow, placing a hand over his chest in mock-pain when the other mentioned his ‘damaged ego’. “You know-” He started once Moriarty stopped talking enough time for him to comment on anything, taking a few steps towards the table. “You could’ve just said you’ve missed me and wanted to chat over coffee or butterbeer. I would gladly say yes. It would’ve been better than just standing here in the dark, you know.” He said sarcastically.

To say that the other’s sudden mood change was something new to Tony would be a lie, so he chose to ignore it as he did to most of things. “What can I say? That happens from time to time.”

[moriarty-the-real]

He scoffed slightly at the familiar nickname, though more out of a distilled sense of nostalgia rather than spite. He enjoyed it, if only for the way it entailed more than the obvious. That would be his reason for liking most things, in fact. He made sure not to be too kinetically responsive; he kept his movements to a calm head tilt every now and then. His old friend was on guard, and there was no need to provoke anything yet. 

Moriarty narrowed his gaze slightly at Tony's antics, and simply waited. He surrendered a small smile in reply, along with a shrug. "You know that's far too ordinary and boring for me, Starkie. I think the atmosphere in here helps accentuate the mood," he retorted with a delayed, placid sigh. He rose from his seat, looking as if he were pondering something, and began to eye Tony up and down. 

"Apparently so." His voice had a slight agitation to it, hidden amongst the words. "I've never despised you. Unlike most people I find myself stuck in rooms with, I enjoy your company. You've entertained me greatly over the years." He turned his gaze away from Tony, seemingly now admiring the library itself as if it were the last time he'd see it. "So I thought I should warn you..."