[Oh, Ling thinks, when the little upstart comes fully into the light (as much as he can, poorly-lit and dusty as it is down here), he's tiny. Not physically, he isn't some whelp fresh out of puberty or anything, but he's so young. And Ling is young himself, shorter and more slight than most people in their kind of life should be to strike an imposing figure, but he's proven himself time and again to be a force to be reckoned with despite whatever he may look like. This guy— he can see the growing pains in the edges of his body language, the way he wants to be taken more seriously than he's earned, the way he tries to make himself look bigger and tougher and completely casual all at once when faced with someone like Ling.
Because, well, Ling could have a knife across his throat in seconds, if he really wanted to. It wouldn't be that hard. Then the boy's groupies would either retaliate and get themselves killed or scatter and be out of his hair anyway— it would neatly tie up this distraction he's been putting up with.
But maybe there's something worthwhile in there, behind those dumb sunglasses (throw those away immediately); Ling wouldn't go so far as to say he sees himself just a few years ago in this lanky young thing, trying to play with the big boys far too early for his own safety, but... maybe something like that.
So for now his eyebrows go up, like Greed's totally-not-at-all-intimidated-for-real attitude is a surprise; like he believes it, which he does not. He spins the pen a few more times before tapping it against his knuckles, scrutinizing Greed all the while. Fresh-faced and terrible at hiding where he's concealed his knife, hmm—]
I wanted to see something for myself after all that fuss! ["fuss"] Admittedly, I was expecting someone with a bit more finesse...
[It's kind of adorable, in an annoying way. He can't help but wonder why him, why the Yao family instead of one of the other big gangs around town. Is it only ambition, trying to go from the bottom to the top in one straight shot? Or is it because so many of the others are busy lying to each other, whereas Ling Yao will come down to someone's office personally to complain?
There's a beat, and he shifts to cross one ankle over the other where his feet are still propped on the desk. He isn't going anywhere, but,] Ah, am I in your chair?
i did write 6 pages about a cigarette being deeply homoerotic, so more or less yes
Because, well, Ling could have a knife across his throat in seconds, if he really wanted to. It wouldn't be that hard. Then the boy's groupies would either retaliate and get themselves killed or scatter and be out of his hair anyway— it would neatly tie up this distraction he's been putting up with.
But maybe there's something worthwhile in there, behind those dumb sunglasses (throw those away immediately); Ling wouldn't go so far as to say he sees himself just a few years ago in this lanky young thing, trying to play with the big boys far too early for his own safety, but... maybe something like that.
So for now his eyebrows go up, like Greed's totally-not-at-all-intimidated-for-real attitude is a surprise; like he believes it, which he does not. He spins the pen a few more times before tapping it against his knuckles, scrutinizing Greed all the while. Fresh-faced and terrible at hiding where he's concealed his knife, hmm—]
I wanted to see something for myself after all that fuss! ["fuss"] Admittedly, I was expecting someone with a bit more finesse...
[It's kind of adorable, in an annoying way. He can't help but wonder why him, why the Yao family instead of one of the other big gangs around town. Is it only ambition, trying to go from the bottom to the top in one straight shot? Or is it because so many of the others are busy lying to each other, whereas Ling Yao will come down to someone's office personally to complain?
There's a beat, and he shifts to cross one ankle over the other where his feet are still propped on the desk. He isn't going anywhere, but,] Ah, am I in your chair?