Re: floating above; malefactor/the boss
Confidence was a well tailored suit and a grin. The bossman wore confidence on his shoulders as if he'd been born with the weight there. He didn't gloat. Gloating was for people who had to lord their power in order to maintain it. He made the world turn and the seasons change, and that type of power was electric down to the fingertips. He was a spokesman, a salesman. He could sell piss-ink as a miracle tonic; his piss-ink would work as promised, and that set him apart from the peddlers. He was bona fide. They were bona fide.
He wasn't concerned by the lack of interest on the green youth's face. He offered his hand, and he helped the young man down. He'd never been the type to force anything on anyone, and the hand offered was quickly retracted once chunky boots met ground. He didn't need to collect trinkets. He didn't need the green boy, and his demeanor said he could take it or leave it. He did not exude desperation. People needed him, and it was not the other way around. He benefited from desperation in every form, but he was the beneficiary and not the needy.
"Do I?" he asked of reminding the youth of someone. They'd made no offers. They promised nothing. This was a simple interlude, and he smiled a harmless smile as his voice rumbled with something sensual and belly-low. "It sounds like you don't like this person I remind you off. I don't promise anything, and you have nothing to give me. Do you?" he asked, and he motioned forward, along the sidewalk, and then he fell into long and leisurely step. The boy and his broom were welcome to join him in a companionable stroll. "I asked if the broom wasn't limiting. I didn't offer to make it unnecessary," he added, his voice still low and rumble-promise bottomless.
He glanced over with sagacity in deep-set eyes in a youthful face. "Don't get defensive. I hardly said anything at all." Ahead, he motioned. "Feel free to go if my presence is unpleasant." He kept walking. He kept his slow pace. Confident step after confident step.