Tanek looked up, his dark eyes looking almost (if not quite) innocuous. The boy who would not die did not care for rules, perhaps because he flouted humanity's most important rule, but he kept to some of them. He cherry-picked which rules he liked and he which ones he could safely break, and the others - well, some rules needed stretching.
His hands slipped under Sorin's shirt, softly stroking and massaging the supple skin there, as he replied: "Some of them? Yes, sure. All of them? No." He smoked weed, for one, which one of the rules he might break the most often. "But neither do you."