➥ VIDEO | this lack of an edit button man shit's for the birds
[One smirk traded for another; Greed lifts his lip in a mocking sort of sneer, though it seems it's more sarcastic than an actual snarl.]
Ha - ! You really are a pissant, aren't you? [Canted-shelf of a chin out as the Sin knocks the back of his skull against the door frame. Finger in the air points back down and a thumb rolls out, making a gun of his hand. And he snaps in Kirk's direction.] No, I don't think that at all. It's the same here as it's always been. I've been doing this a long time now -
[And it's always the same; people with power keeping as much under wraps as they can. Secrets passed, a war on the horizon - it didn't matter the playing field, the players were no different.] - no one with that much power will give it up so easily. But that wasn't what I was talking about.
[His hand drops and a heel slowly slides down; screeches against the frame, making the wood protest until the boot finally clicks against the floor. And Greed falls over the shelf of his hips, kicks his elbows out in opposite directions.] No - you were asking for information. And since you're offering - ah, what was it? [Head tilts before his eyes snap right back, steadying on Kirk like a predator.] Right; business information. I figured I'd do you a favor in exchange.
[But he shrugs; pulls himself up by the spine and his eyes fall under his lids. Because, really? A pissant is a pissant no matter the form.] Guess we won't be good chums, will we?