hans-starke:
Hans rolls his eyes. Preaching to the choir, bud. “Right.” He sighs. “Same game, different rules. Doesn’t pay off that well.”
The sky can only handle Hans’s gaze ever so often. His eyes roll up toward it, yet again, and his skin feels tight. Even if he does understand and believe in what Charlie is saying, there’s no excuse for his approach. Dated, boring, the sugar seeping off of it like it’s poison. He could almost be sick. “Lining up. Right. So this is why you’re winning?” His head snaps back at Charlie then, expectant. There’s no arguing against numbers. “Feel free to lie to yourself, but don’t do it others. It’s… unethical.” He smiles, knowing damn well what that word is closely related to. Himself. “By all means keep that mentality, babe. I thrive off of it.”
"Just because I don’t have all of your Oil Industry barking up my tree doesn’t mean I don’t have research funding. People don’t actually need you to personally sign their paycheques and projects, Hans,” he said. “I don’t need your approval,” he said, voice cutting a little deeper, nearing ever so close to breaking, but he kept his voice calm, brought himself back down.
He wasn’t going to say it, had kept it bottled for longer than he can remember, but he felt it slip out, his voice meek, more vulnerable than he had been since things... well... “When is it going to hit you that playing dirty means hurting people?”
[ @hans-starke ]