Re: [Gala, Capital: Burden & Damian]
Not so very long ago, Damian had been sent to bring important, ancient, often ritualistic totems and items from around the world back to the island as proof of his capability. The Year of Blood. He had slaughtered, at times, villages to achieve his ends. Though the act of it had been clouded in words of 'honor' and 'proof' and 'duty,' at the end of the day, the notion had been thievery. Damian recognized this now. He would atone. He intended to, in any case, and, for Damian, intentions were often as good as promises. My point, however, was to illustrate that thievery itself was not entirely evil, as it was dependent on the ends. To Damian's mind, Burden's ends justified his means, and, therefore, no, he would not attempt to interfere. Or, at the very least, he would not interfere for that reason alone.—And while he did not suppose the little eventual priest as harmless, he did not understand with any fullness, the scope of the boy's 'shivershakes,' and, as such, was unable to calculate those into his equation. Had he known, it was just as unlikely that he would have heeded any caution, yes.
For all his formality, Damian's upbringing had not been formal. He was, by and large, in context the context of social appropriateness, feral. He had been raised upon an island, by assassins. He had not been taught the ways of Upper Society so strictly. Their behaviors and expectations were often viewed as frivolous, and, truly, just as problematic and selfish as those of their perceived underlings. Perhaps, another man in his position, would not have sat upon the counter. Damian did not possess this hesitance. He often perched. It was more comfortable to him. So, he did this now, and it allowed him a slightly elevated view of Burden in all his black, which was acceptable also.—So too was the idle graze of Burden's wrist to Damian's thigh. Acceptable, I mean. Damian felt that his skin burned beneath the point of contact, though it did not. It was a somatic expression of that which requires no explanation. He did not react. He watched Burden return from his brief foray to the paper. He allowed a smile to show itself as the boy peered at him ever so knowingly. Damian did glance downward, once, in an unknown display of flirtation and coyness, then looked upward once more. "I have given you the impression I am concerned with such, I know," he teased back. "It is, however, false. I do not," and he said this dryly, as a phrase echoed, "give a fuck."
Now, per the topic of Audrey, which had been broached by Damian to begin with, Damian's entertainment diminished. His gaze was drawn to the contact of Burden's hip with the sink, before it flicked upward once more. Damian kicked his feet, then peered sideways at Burden. Had he allowed himself time to consider it more, the smarter strategy, no doubt, would have been denial. However, this is not what occurred. "She is a woman. She flirts with you, whether she believes it or not. You deny her based solely on your endeavors to minister." It was possible that this was not a satisfactory response, but Damian felt it revealing. "It does not matter, however. You are correct." Damian hopped down, his shoes clicking upon the tile. "Let us rejoin the party. I am certain you have been missed."