[ At first, a restrained and unfaltering silence is Ozymandias’ only response to her warning. It is unclear, what exactly he thinks of the oxymoron that he shall someday unearth between this natural, depraved savagery and her goal of domestication. The quiet is (perhaps) punctuated by the sounds of Caster fulfilling her calling. It is one not so difficult to find in a woman, after all.
His cool, detached gaze finally gives way to warmth. Unable to withhold his laughter, Ozymandias loudly caves to impulse. Closed lips part, and a snicker escapes. ]
Haha. That’s the spirit.
[ There is nothing obvious about what exactly is the source of his current humor. The answer to that would be everything, but especially this: the fact that he is being framed as the prey, being benevolently cared after by his predator.
He elaborates on none of that. Instead, he walks the gap between them in order to—
Vigorously pat her head with the palm of his hand. ]
no subject
His cool, detached gaze finally gives way to warmth. Unable to withhold his laughter, Ozymandias loudly caves to impulse. Closed lips part, and a snicker escapes. ]
Haha. That’s the spirit.
[ There is nothing obvious about what exactly is the source of his current humor. The answer to that would be everything, but especially this: the fact that he is being framed as the prey, being benevolently cared after by his predator.
He elaborates on none of that. Instead, he walks the gap between them in order to—
Vigorously pat her head with the palm of his hand. ]