Alec clues back in about halfway through V's staring contest with the middle distance, and by the end of it he's giving V an odd look of his own. Okay, what was that?
Then V seems to recover with no comment, and Alec squints but eventually decides to let it fly. Whatever V's problem is, it's going to have to stay his problem. Alec's natural inclination for digging all the way into people's business whether they like it or not only really extends to the ones he actively likes.
Right now, he's too on edge to get started on that. He loiters by the tv for a moment—why is it so big?—before closing the distance between them and extending a hand for the letter. "Let me see that." Once he reads it for himself, he resumes scowling full-force. The Mayor, like in his strange dream. Is it a warlock? Demon? Fae? He feels stupid for not being able to even begin to guess who is behind this and what was done in particular to provoke it. "I don't trust it," he declares, yep, still completely serious. He drops the letter on the foot of the closest bed, and starts on a more concentrated search through the little hotel room for anything long and thin enough that he can try to pry the door open manually. He doesn't think that will work, exactly, but he's got to try because: "I don't know what kind of ward that is, but I'm not putting my blood on it."
The and V shouldn't either is heavily implied, if by tone alone.
no subject
Then V seems to recover with no comment, and Alec squints but eventually decides to let it fly. Whatever V's problem is, it's going to have to stay his problem. Alec's natural inclination for digging all the way into people's business whether they like it or not only really extends to the ones he actively likes.
Right now, he's too on edge to get started on that. He loiters by the tv for a moment—why is it so big?—before closing the distance between them and extending a hand for the letter. "Let me see that." Once he reads it for himself, he resumes scowling full-force. The Mayor, like in his strange dream. Is it a warlock? Demon? Fae? He feels stupid for not being able to even begin to guess who is behind this and what was done in particular to provoke it. "I don't trust it," he declares, yep, still completely serious. He drops the letter on the foot of the closest bed, and starts on a more concentrated search through the little hotel room for anything long and thin enough that he can try to pry the door open manually. He doesn't think that will work, exactly, but he's got to try because: "I don't know what kind of ward that is, but I'm not putting my blood on it."
The and V shouldn't either is heavily implied, if by tone alone.