03-18-2020, 10:08 AM
[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:55%;font-family:verdana;"]Some time ago he would've been willing to drum up the additional support. Lord knew he'd tried once before, a prisoner with the perfect plan - perfect, if you cut out the part where he forgot that the world was not always working in his favor. But he'd learned, after that. Nobody was going to run to his aid. They'd flock to the lying spy before him, if anything, for he knew Ocelot wouldn't join a clan without swaying a few in pursuit of his interests. This was his fight, and his alone.
There is, of course, a moment in which he considers the less flattering of his options. Lunge for the neck. Take him out like he'd always wanted. It's an alluring thought, doing the dirty work for once in his life rather than waiting for the enemy to bite first. (That is, if he considered Ocelot an enemy at all.) The knife feels heavy, cold. He says nothing but bridles, a little, in the wake of his subdued impulses. If Ocelot would put on a show, so would he.
"It's been a while," Miller comments, with that same breezy, nonchalant air he brought to any table. They knew each other too well to play games, and yet, what was Ocelot if not the chessmaster? They'd work their way around the board all the same, eyes locked, defenses raised. He gestures out a little with the unarmed paw, ignoring the other's idle comments; the jungle offers little but oppressive humidity, distant birdsong in response. "Keeping yourself entertained, hm?"
ooc: short uglyass post as i get back into writing.... forgive me :pensive:
There is, of course, a moment in which he considers the less flattering of his options. Lunge for the neck. Take him out like he'd always wanted. It's an alluring thought, doing the dirty work for once in his life rather than waiting for the enemy to bite first. (That is, if he considered Ocelot an enemy at all.) The knife feels heavy, cold. He says nothing but bridles, a little, in the wake of his subdued impulses. If Ocelot would put on a show, so would he.
"It's been a while," Miller comments, with that same breezy, nonchalant air he brought to any table. They knew each other too well to play games, and yet, what was Ocelot if not the chessmaster? They'd work their way around the board all the same, eyes locked, defenses raised. He gestures out a little with the unarmed paw, ignoring the other's idle comments; the jungle offers little but oppressive humidity, distant birdsong in response. "Keeping yourself entertained, hm?"
ooc: short uglyass post as i get back into writing.... forgive me :pensive: