Re: Elevator
He stilled, then shifted forward, closer to him. He didn't have to go far in the tiny little room to close the distance between them, and he slid up in front of him, sitting on his knees.
He was on a roll now, fueled by anger just under the surface. "You're sure about that," he said, voice taking on that easy calm Azrael had, a mimicry of it. He had a lot of experience with pretending at the things people wanted to see. With the added bonus of the face to match, it was just that much more effective. Something sick in him wanted to see Tristan fall for it, wanted to see him admit it, even as it cut at him, deep and aching. This was what Tristan wanted, so he ought to react to it at least.