Seven hand-waved a mock humility. “Expertise is a matter of judgment,” he took back the trinket, turning it over in his hand. The boar was supposedly ancient Sumerian, and while it was old, it wasn’t that old.
“It was probably sourced by a explorer living in the British-governed Mesopotamia at the turn of the last century, shortly before the Iraqi revolt,” his fingers curled around the boar. The alloy pulled warmth from his skin. “The gold is real enough. I paid $900 in the end,” and he tossed it in the air like dice, snatching it with the opposite hand with a dramatic flourish.
“I call it ‘The Feeling’,” he said, tossing it once more and catching in the other hand. The tosses continued, yellow flashing in ever higher and higher arcs. On the last throw, the trinket caught itself in midair. Seven watched. Life infused with the power seeping through his veins. A special little trick of light flashed the gold like sunshine. The current carried the boar as though its wings really did make it fly. After some rather tiny, albeit adorable, acrobatics, the boar was placed before Zhenya.
“No matter how convincing, some things cannot be hidden. The truth is always buried, but sometimes you must dig very, very deep.” Seven knew the irony that he himself lived in skin that was itself a convincing mask.
He let the power escape as he took a tender sip of his drink, enjoying this striptease of identity. He smiled at Ephriam, "I suppose, my expertise depends on what you want to do with me now that you have me," he let his gaze sink, liquid swirling in his hand.
“It was probably sourced by a explorer living in the British-governed Mesopotamia at the turn of the last century, shortly before the Iraqi revolt,” his fingers curled around the boar. The alloy pulled warmth from his skin. “The gold is real enough. I paid $900 in the end,” and he tossed it in the air like dice, snatching it with the opposite hand with a dramatic flourish.
“I call it ‘The Feeling’,” he said, tossing it once more and catching in the other hand. The tosses continued, yellow flashing in ever higher and higher arcs. On the last throw, the trinket caught itself in midair. Seven watched. Life infused with the power seeping through his veins. A special little trick of light flashed the gold like sunshine. The current carried the boar as though its wings really did make it fly. After some rather tiny, albeit adorable, acrobatics, the boar was placed before Zhenya.
“No matter how convincing, some things cannot be hidden. The truth is always buried, but sometimes you must dig very, very deep.” Seven knew the irony that he himself lived in skin that was itself a convincing mask.
He let the power escape as he took a tender sip of his drink, enjoying this striptease of identity. He smiled at Ephriam, "I suppose, my expertise depends on what you want to do with me now that you have me," he let his gaze sink, liquid swirling in his hand.