A madness that ought not to have been allowed to be. Years of scheming, corruption, and unpredictability.
"I don't suppose that's your room there, is it? Would be a hell of a coincidence…" He said, nodding to the door opposite his.
"No," Blackthorn said, with the same amount of emotion that she had shown yesterday, which was to say, none at all, aside from an overwhelming coldness. Between her, Verdant and Lombard, there was enough stoniness to construct a mountain range.
"A friend then, I suppose?" Oliver said. It was a mere polite conversation that he was making, since she was right there, but there was a tension to his words, as he recalled their less-than-amiable sparring yesterday, and what had followed it. As he spoke, he made it clear that he was on his way to do something, and did not pause his walk.
"No," she said again, and with it, she held out her arm to stop him.