[ Though Archer remains perfectly still, there’s a brief flash of something dangerous in those steely gray eyes of his when Rufus’s fingers sink into his hair. The fury he very rarely shows the world, the burning fire that kept him sane through a thousand times a thousand different iterations of hell — there’s just a flicker of it, there and gone in a moment. Instead, he dips his head, as if accepting the praise.
All of this is part of the game, of course it is — but that doesn’t mean there isn’t something visceral inside him that revolts at the very idea of submitting to anyone.
The laughter from the painting subsides, finally, and they are treated to their reward. The doors slide open, and once Rufus’s hand lifts away, Archer will rise gracefully and walk out of the elevator.
He performed well, but he needs a moment to breathe. ]
no subject
All of this is part of the game, of course it is — but that doesn’t mean there isn’t something visceral inside him that revolts at the very idea of submitting to anyone.
The laughter from the painting subsides, finally, and they are treated to their reward. The doors slide open, and once Rufus’s hand lifts away, Archer will rise gracefully and walk out of the elevator.
He performed well, but he needs a moment to breathe. ]