Edward displayed little beyond narrowed eyes and a skeptical sneer throughout Eridan's entire defense. His trigger finger stroked over the mechanism, taunting, but never pulling. Before Eridan was even midway through his argument, Eddie had been dissuaded from cold murder.
He wasn't in a mood to clean the carpet, anyway.
As Eridan took the gun into his mouth, Edward watched with his now default impassive expression.
"Practice that much? Given who you work for, I mean, isn't a real surprise is it?" His familiar tone equipped the quip. Slowly, gently, he pulled the gun out from Eridan's mouth. And wiped it down Eridan's shirt. There was a quirk of judgment in the movement, a flicker of disdain along with the mercy: Eridan was still a G-man, far as Eddie was concerned. A turncoat could always turn again, yes, but the problem wasn't the direction -- it was the fact there were far too many coat racks.
He needed Eridan. But he couldn't trust him.
"A friend, you said." Eddie cleared his throat. "What could a friend do for me? Thought those were more useful to normal individuals."
no subject
He wasn't in a mood to clean the carpet, anyway.
As Eridan took the gun into his mouth, Edward watched with his now default impassive expression.
"Practice that much? Given who you work for, I mean, isn't a real surprise is it?" His familiar tone equipped the quip. Slowly, gently, he pulled the gun out from Eridan's mouth. And wiped it down Eridan's shirt. There was a quirk of judgment in the movement, a flicker of disdain along with the mercy: Eridan was still a G-man, far as Eddie was concerned. A turncoat could always turn again, yes, but the problem wasn't the direction -- it was the fact there were far too many coat racks.
He needed Eridan. But he couldn't trust him.
"A friend, you said." Eddie cleared his throat. "What could a friend do for me? Thought those were more useful to normal individuals."
A biting echo of Eridan's own barb.