[ He pulls off one of his gloves—the hand inside is human, red with cold—brings out his own note and accompanying nametag (Wade T). He shuffles no closer than necessary to hold it side by side with hers. ] I thought I'd compare the penmanship. [ It's the same. Handwritten, by the looks of it. Which is a troublesome thought, somebody scrawling the same warning or admonishment or threat over and over. No wonder it's so sloppy.
And—not that he believes she'll accept, but because he's curious, now, how high a price she'll put on that name: ] Give you a match for it.
[ Without any sign of hurry, he returns the papers to his pocket, the glove to his hand. Flexes his fingers a few times before sticking his hands in his pockets. Head tipped back ever so slightly, he affords the match and its wielder equal consideration. ] Did you want me to dare you?
no subject
And—not that he believes she'll accept, but because he's curious, now, how high a price she'll put on that name: ] Give you a match for it.
[ Without any sign of hurry, he returns the papers to his pocket, the glove to his hand. Flexes his fingers a few times before sticking his hands in his pockets. Head tipped back ever so slightly, he affords the match and its wielder equal consideration. ] Did you want me to dare you?