"Sent her dogs to fetch me already, has she?" The words came as a sneer, mocking, taunting as he circled her predatorily. He laughed; it was a strangely cruel sound coming from such a smiling face.
She refused to be ruffled. He wasn't quite so intimidating as he made himself out to be, though she supposed, were she someone different, he would have cut a very imposing figure. It was in the eyes and their deceptively bright gleam.
His grin widened as he continued circling, eyes raking her figure appreciatively. "Pity you're on the wrong side, there, girly."
She allowed him a grim smile. "Pity indeed, though wrong is subjective, don't you think?"
He mirrored her smile, finally reseating himself on his throne made of broken chair bits. "If it weren't subjective, what would I be doing here?"
Her eyes followed his hand as it picked up the glass from the table beside him; there was little point in drinking it, though he downed it as though it made a difference. "Pretending that you're human already?" The question wasn't meant to be as condescending as it came out, but from the drink to the women that scattered from the room at her appearance, it begged asking.
He chuckled darkly, setting the glass down to refill it. "Rather pretend now and know it's not true than pretend it could ever happen." He took another sip of his drink, eyes gleaming when she bristled and scowl. "S'matter? Did that hit a nerve?"
"We will all be human when we get the Philosopher's Stone," she said stiffly.
He chuckled again, shaking his head as though he were listening to a child's talk of unicorns and dragons. "Are we now? You think that woman's gonna let us be human after all this?" He waved a hand, the dragon writhing as he did so, baring carmine fangs. "Nah; we're below her, you see: tools at best. Playthings."
"And you think because you've left that you're better than the rest of us?"
"You think because you haven't that you're one of them?" His grin widened, sharklike, and he stood again. "S'what I'm saying: you're never going to be one of them. Human. You can't, and that's the point; we're outcasts, you and I. The scourge of heaven, the remnants of things that were."
He didn't sound as bitter as he should have been; certainly not as bitter as she would be. Indeed, he sounded a strange mixture of amused and world-weary, as though he'd told himself the same thing for years. Perhaps he had. She hoped to never know.
He had begun walking toward her; frowning, she took a step back, one more, one more, until her back was against the wall. She raised a hand, fingers extending in warning, but his now-clawed hand gripped them nonchalantly. He placed his other hand by her head, leaning forward just so.
"The way she's got you running around, it's an imitation of reality; the way I do things, it's as close to the real deal as we can get. I got women, I got booze – "
She glared sharply, the corner of her mouth twitching upward at the irony. "Though it's never enough."
"And it never will be," he agreed, smirking as well. "But it's more than you'll get on her side, you can be damn sure."
Her expression didn't change in the least as she placed her fingertips on his chest, extending the claws in a sudden flurry of movement; he skidded back to his throne, looking completely unfazed at the affront. Nonetheless, she continued pressing forward, regarding him coolly.
He made no move to push aside the claws as he stood, simply putting his hands into his pockets. "Now that's why I'm saying you're on the wrong side; reactions like that, and you'd have everyone fooled."
--
It took all her will, strength having left her with the stones, to keep herself from crumpling to the ground. She didn't need to look up at the approaching footsteps. Lust knew her end was coming closer at every step; her eyes closed of their own accord, and the last thing she heard wasn't the whistling of the wind, nor the hollow echoing of the warehouse.
"I'll be choosing my side for myself."
"Right, right; just make sure it's the one you want, eh? Wouldn't want a pretty thing like you getting dusty."