[ Now. Now Royce appears defiant. Just a little, and apparently less in response to the prospect of getting is ass handed to him than the forcible separation from the Transistor leaning tantalizingly against the wall. ]
That won't be a problem. Cloudbank is more important than... well, all of us. More than all of us. If our hosts aren't lying, then, why, I—we'll do it. We might actually manage it. We'll bring it back.
[ He half-turns; the Boxer is between him and the door, so it's not as if he's got anywhere to go. But something about his demeanor does seem ever so slightly peevish. ]
But here I would've thought you'd want to figure this out. You. Your body. In there. I'd help you. You know. I'd be more than willing try and help the both of you. No... hard feelings.
[He snorts in a derisive way when Royce has the stones to play friendly. No hard feelings, like this is all one big misunderstanding. His fingers twitch closed into a fist. In and out at his side as Royce speaks. Like he's thinking again about swinging it. He bites down on his temper. Wrangles it back.]
Generous of you. [Sarcastic, and not without bitterness. If he's moved by the offer or shaken by the reminder of where he stands, he doesn't much let it show. (It's not that he isn't interested in the theoretical end result. Just that he doesn't trust Bracket any further than he can throw him. And he's still working his way around to letting himself wonder if this isn't the end for him, after all.)] We'll see about that.
[If this is as far as he goes—he'll be okay. No matter how Royce happens to feel about it, there are still plenty of hard feelings to be had. He doesn't just get to decide to write it all off as spilled milk. (And him—he's not worth it. Letting Royce get his hands on the Transistor again.) He backsteps, turns on a heel to pick the Transistor up away from the wall to sling it up onto a shoulder.]
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That won't be a problem. Cloudbank is more important than... well, all of us. More than all of us. If our hosts aren't lying, then, why, I—we'll do it. We might actually manage it. We'll bring it back.
[ He half-turns; the Boxer is between him and the door, so it's not as if he's got anywhere to go. But something about his demeanor does seem ever so slightly peevish. ]
But here I would've thought you'd want to figure this out. You. Your body. In there. I'd help you. You know. I'd be more than willing try and help the both of you. No... hard feelings.
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Generous of you. [Sarcastic, and not without bitterness. If he's moved by the offer or shaken by the reminder of where he stands, he doesn't much let it show. (It's not that he isn't interested in the theoretical end result. Just that he doesn't trust Bracket any further than he can throw him. And he's still working his way around to letting himself wonder if this isn't the end for him, after all.)] We'll see about that.
[If this is as far as he goes—he'll be okay. No matter how Royce happens to feel about it, there are still plenty of hard feelings to be had. He doesn't just get to decide to write it all off as spilled milk. (And him—he's not worth it. Letting Royce get his hands on the Transistor again.) He backsteps, turns on a heel to pick the Transistor up away from the wall to sling it up onto a shoulder.]
Goodbye, Royce.
[Good luck with all that.]