[ When Bruce doesn't say anything, Silver arches a curious eyebrow. The energy of the exchange shifts when he spies that paper, but he picks it up and unfolds it, scanning it's contents. There's the slightest frown on his face, but it looks like concentration instead of disapproval.
His eyes flick up, his cyberoptic narrow, before he smirks. ]
I like the cut a' yer jib, lad. But t'is? [ He waggles the note without turning the page around. Nobody else can see what's written on it. ] T'ain't gonna come cheap.
no subject
His eyes flick up, his cyberoptic narrow, before he smirks. ]
I like the cut a' yer jib, lad. But t'is? [ He waggles the note without turning the page around. Nobody else can see what's written on it. ] T'ain't gonna come cheap.