[He nearly growls, licking the whiskey from his lips, turning his head to set his gaze on her. The hatred lingers, but he's back in control. John closes the flask and slips it into his back pocket, his upper lip curling up just so into a sneer.]
You're not worth it.
[He states the words plainly; he doesn't even mean them as an insult, not entirely. Because she's not. She never has been worth anything to him. Worth the anger or the effort. She's not worth anything alive, or dead, or writhing with him under the cover of night and their own darkness.]
Re: MORTIS - Kayt
You're not worth it.
[He states the words plainly; he doesn't even mean them as an insult, not entirely. Because she's not. She never has been worth anything to him. Worth the anger or the effort. She's not worth anything alive, or dead, or writhing with him under the cover of night and their own darkness.]
Never have been.