[His hatred has never burned in such a wild way, and even as Zekarion blinks and finds himself on the dreary streets of London, the hair on the back of his neck still stands on end. He feels the grime on his hands and the rest of him can be nothing but blood—though a glimpse at himself proves otherwise.
An unsettled amber gaze meets Richard's eyes, and what he sees there feels—not for him. Too gentle to be truly for him, no matter how well he pretends. Nevertheless, it settles his nerves somewhat from the memory of a brown-haired young man bleeding out in his arms.
Altius catches the coin out of the air without thinking, but he doesn't even open his hand to glance at his prize, his attention remaining on the royal. He's not thinking as quickly as he might have, but he still manages a mild plea before Richard has taken his second step:]
II
An unsettled amber gaze meets Richard's eyes, and what he sees there feels—not for him. Too gentle to be truly for him, no matter how well he pretends. Nevertheless, it settles his nerves somewhat from the memory of a brown-haired young man bleeding out in his arms.
Altius catches the coin out of the air without thinking, but he doesn't even open his hand to glance at his prize, his attention remaining on the royal. He's not thinking as quickly as he might have, but he still manages a mild plea before Richard has taken his second step:]
A moment, my lord.