names so deep and names so true
Cian is the sort of man who has very much earned the post he holds. He has done his time in the trenches, he had proven himself. He has bled and broken himself for this cause. One of the few luxuries that such a life offers is that his time is typically not spent running erands. Or, in this case, telling his goddam spyglass to do his fucking job.
The Eye does not knock. Instead, he throws open the door to Finn's room, sending it slamming against the wall. His face is a neutral mask, and rather than yelling as one might expect, he simply halts a few feet inside the room and reaches into the pocket of his long coat for his cigarettes and a lighter. Lifting one to his lips, the Eye lights it carefully, without having so much as given Finn a look. No doubt the Spyglass is trying to contain his racing heart like a startled rabbit and looking for clothes, but as it is, one might think Cian alone in the room for the utter lack of attention he pays to anything that is not the cigarette between this fingers.
The Eye does not knock. Instead, he throws open the door to Finn's room, sending it slamming against the wall. His face is a neutral mask, and rather than yelling as one might expect, he simply halts a few feet inside the room and reaches into the pocket of his long coat for his cigarettes and a lighter. Lifting one to his lips, the Eye lights it carefully, without having so much as given Finn a look. No doubt the Spyglass is trying to contain his racing heart like a startled rabbit and looking for clothes, but as it is, one might think Cian alone in the room for the utter lack of attention he pays to anything that is not the cigarette between this fingers.
THE EYE
they're blood to me they're dust to you
