[He agrees with Carver to an extent--he feels mad broaching the subject. It's an icy cold comfort that the knife has switched to another hand, but the outcome still seems to be a sure thing, no better than a footnote squeezed into the margins of a history book while historians squabble about the means that justified the end. "Here lies Anders, his grave well-fertilized from the men and women who piss on it."]
Oh, well, that's a relief. And here I was worried things would get awkward between us.
[Despite the sarcasm, tension eases from Anders' shoulders, and he manages a blithe smile. The way Carver gets his smallclothes in a wad, you'd think he was the one contemplating his own death and dismemberment at the hands of the Hawke family, not the other way around, but the answer is a relief, kind of.
At least he doesn't have to consider that he was done in by a man with a fetish for pocket dogs.]
Putting it that way, you're right, I don't know how anyone could doubt your sunny disposition and goodwill toward all men. [So sweet! So definitely not boiling over with suppressed anger!] I appreciate the passionate denial, though I don't suppose that had anything to do with not wanting me dead...?
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Oh, well, that's a relief. And here I was worried things would get awkward between us.
[Despite the sarcasm, tension eases from Anders' shoulders, and he manages a blithe smile. The way Carver gets his smallclothes in a wad, you'd think he was the one contemplating his own death and dismemberment at the hands of the Hawke family, not the other way around, but the answer is a relief, kind of.
At least he doesn't have to consider that he was done in by a man with a fetish for pocket dogs.]
Putting it that way, you're right, I don't know how anyone could doubt your sunny disposition and goodwill toward all men. [So sweet! So definitely not boiling over with suppressed anger!] I appreciate the passionate denial, though I don't suppose that had anything to do with not wanting me dead...?
[A guy can hope, can't he?]