[Sylus’s eyes narrow as he catches the faint sound of amusement from across the room. His gaze shifts, locking onto the source—a figure who seems just as unimpressed with the spectacle as he is. Someone who sees through the farce of this auction isn’t bidding. Instead, he’s simply watching, as if Sylus is some kind of entertainment, a fleeting distraction in an otherwise dull event.
Sylus’s eyebrow arches, his expression a mix of curiosity and challenge. The silent question hangs in the air between them: Well?
He respects the person's discernment, recognizing a kindred spirit in his apparent disinterest. But at the same time, there’s an unspoken expectation. Here he is, the leader of Onychinus being bargained for what he wouldn't even dare pay for a measly single protocore, an unsightly amount that would make some think he's counting his money. Everyone else is falling over themselves, throwing what is probably their fortunes at his feet (but change next to him), and yet this one remains aloof, untouched by the frenzy. Sylus isn’t used to being overlooked, especially by someone who seems to understand the absurdity of the situation as well as he does.
His lips curl into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk, a silent dare: Are you really going to just sit there?
There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—a challenge, a test. He wants to see if this one will break the mold, step out of the shadows and into the game. Just because Sylus finds this whole charade beneath him, something is intriguing about the ones who don’t fall in line with the rest.]
and i aim to please
Sylus’s eyebrow arches, his expression a mix of curiosity and challenge. The silent question hangs in the air between them: Well?
He respects the person's discernment, recognizing a kindred spirit in his apparent disinterest. But at the same time, there’s an unspoken expectation. Here he is, the leader of Onychinus being bargained for what he wouldn't even dare pay for a measly single protocore, an unsightly amount that would make some think he's counting his money. Everyone else is falling over themselves, throwing what is probably their fortunes at his feet (but change next to him), and yet this one remains aloof, untouched by the frenzy. Sylus isn’t used to being overlooked, especially by someone who seems to understand the absurdity of the situation as well as he does.
His lips curl into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk, a silent dare: Are you really going to just sit there?
There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—a challenge, a test. He wants to see if this one will break the mold, step out of the shadows and into the game. Just because Sylus finds this whole charade beneath him, something is intriguing about the ones who don’t fall in line with the rest.]