Jim’s head drops in a morose fashion. And it is not disappointment that mars his features, but a distinct sadness. He looks like a little boy lost. But it would have taken someone as close to Moriarty’s cold heart to know that such emotions were only feigned by him. He was not angry, anger required scolding and Jim was much too preoccupied by the opportunity this provided to think of such things.
Oh tiger, tiger, tiger, tiger.
❛❛ You know, Seb, you’re quite adorable when you know you’re in the wrong. Not afraid of what daddy might do but cautious, just as you should be. I’m afraid I underestimated your intelligence in these situations, yet again. ❜❜
Swaying from side to side, he more glides to his place in front of the other than walks, narrow fingers looping harshly into the knot of Sebastian’s tie, pulling the man closer so that a cruel whisper may be passed between minds.
❛❛ Don’t make this mistake again. ❜❜
The second Jim's head drops his heart starts to beat a little bit faster.
There's nothing he can do about that-- about anything that's happening. The compliment would, usually, make a little smile curl about his lips and the desire to please Jim would blossom, but right now, it's just serving to keep on fathering the [ c h i l l ] that spreads through his body, burning and freezing him all at once.
On another day, maybe, there might be a little thrill thrumming through his body instead. Adrenaline, a danger rush, from being so close, but not today, not right now.
Today is just a hell of a bad day, really.
A deep breath is squeezed from his lungs; Sebastian's eyes flutter shut. He's only human, after all. Words slip out despite himself;
"You got it, boss."
