[As John's hand lifts upward in William's grasp, his fingers drop limply down, blood coating them from fingertip to knuckle. He looks up slowly at the admonishment, eyes sunken from exhaustion yet still capable of reflecting a glint of mirth.]
I like this side of you, Louis. What's next? Are you going to tell me not to steal?
[He gives a nonchalant glance toward the neat row of bottles. And then another to those still on the floor.]
no subject
I like this side of you, Louis. What's next? Are you going to tell me not to steal?
[He gives a nonchalant glance toward the neat row of bottles. And then another to those still on the floor.]