▐░ ☠ richxardbrook;;
Moran rarely QUESTIONED things. Despite being considered an intellect himself, he had never been one to tussle with and linger on the semantics of things. Clear, cut, && to the point. For a sniper, he was oddly IMPATIENT when it came to trifle things like small talk or sitting through the careful details of a situation.
So, it was hardly of surprise that when Moriarty had sent him somewhere--he hadn’t batted a lash. He did not live to SERVE, but his employer had an eerie knack for never sending him away on things that did not touch on his interests somehow or another.
This, however, came into question as light was shed upon just WHAT he would be doing. Guarding, playing the intimidation card--the NORM. Only it would not be for Moriarty, but rather his t w i n. For Richard.
If he had any inclination to be bothered by it, he would have assumed Moriarty had picked up on the fact that it slightly unsettled Moran that there were two identical little devils running a muck upon the same earth. Still, he stomached any irritation he’d suddenly developed and merely regarded the man with a bland look.
“Afternoon.”
It was less polite and more of a forced pleasantry. Dry and curt and devoid of any r e a l greeting. Moran itched to get ON with it--even if he was not entirely sure what ‘IT’ was just yet.
