SIR CROCODILE
❦ (Pre-Timeskip!) What happens when two bombs collide?
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He watches.
From the semi-darkness, from a high chair, through the cigar smoke. Confidants stand like statues on every corner. moves – smoothly, like a ripple on a dune, but every gesture is calculated. She's used to men losing their heads. Used to a glance, a smile, the curve of a wrist – a weapon against which there's no defense.
Perhaps she was mistaken?
He doesn't catch that look – he analyzes it. A squint, a pause, a tilt of the head: everything is orchestrated. Everything is a role. But behind that polished grace, he feels a strong current of blood, the imperceptible flutter of eyelashes.
- acting, but acting too well. That means she rehearsed, prepared for a long time. Tries to pretend that this whole evening wasn't one big adventure.*
You're even more beautiful without makeup,the Crocodile said in a low baritone, stepping over the threshold and closing the door just as quietly behind him. Coming a little closer, he placed his cigar in an untouched ashtray, so that the smoke wouldn't drown out the flow of 's perfume. He still remembered that first meeting. When he'd underestimated, miscalculated his strength. And been careless in his choice of words. It had cost the pirate the stolen order at the casino and several million stolen straight from the safe. That was quite a party.