"Perhaps she did not and is waiting for you to do it for her." The words are nearly muffled as the blond dives into the engine of the car, more than aware of what he was doing. It was easier for him to focus on the car before him than it was to think of the man that was beside him. There was many a risk in what he was doing, even if the other did not know who he was (which, Thranduil was sure he did not know, if his reaction was any indication). "And do not apologize, humor is far better than anger, which is what is seen far too often."
There is a a quirk of a smile, just a flash, before Thranduil turns back to the car. He needs this focus, to ask himself if what he was doing was really a good idea ta all because, really? It was not. He is sure that the extra energy that hummed in his bones, leftover from his disagreement with Legolas, was to blame for most of it, but that did not excuse him from, more or less, flirting with the enemy.
Not that Thranduil often saw the police as an enemy, more like an irritant. He did keep some legal lines open for himself, all the time. They were simply not nearly as profitable as the shadier ones. Or the ones that he was particularly good at.
"Bus schedules? Where is it that you work?" Look at that, feigned innocence. The blond does not looks up, merely pushes some stray hair from his face over his shoulder and tinkers a little more with the engine. "The buses around here are far from reliable, I fear."
Something he actually cannot stand, in all honesty. Not that he ever had to use them, but reliable busses would make it easier to plan some things, not that they could be used in nefarious purposes. But they could.
"And it is nothing, though I cannot do much without the right tools. Miracle worker, I am not." There is another faint grin, a cross between the predatory one of earlier and something a little less harsh. "My son is, sadly, far too old to rely on me or my advice to be taken seriously. Even if what I have to say is truth." There is a clanking noise from inside the engine as Thranduil pushes on something with a low noise. "Though I shall leave that assumption of character alone, for now."
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Date: 2015-03-23 01:26 am (UTC)There is a a quirk of a smile, just a flash, before Thranduil turns back to the car. He needs this focus, to ask himself if what he was doing was really a good idea ta all because, really? It was not. He is sure that the extra energy that hummed in his bones, leftover from his disagreement with Legolas, was to blame for most of it, but that did not excuse him from, more or less, flirting with the enemy.
Not that Thranduil often saw the police as an enemy, more like an irritant. He did keep some legal lines open for himself, all the time. They were simply not nearly as profitable as the shadier ones. Or the ones that he was particularly good at.
"Bus schedules? Where is it that you work?" Look at that, feigned innocence. The blond does not looks up, merely pushes some stray hair from his face over his shoulder and tinkers a little more with the engine. "The buses around here are far from reliable, I fear."
Something he actually cannot stand, in all honesty. Not that he ever had to use them, but reliable busses would make it easier to plan some things, not that they could be used in nefarious purposes. But they could.
"And it is nothing, though I cannot do much without the right tools. Miracle worker, I am not." There is another faint grin, a cross between the predatory one of earlier and something a little less harsh. "My son is, sadly, far too old to rely on me or my advice to be taken seriously. Even if what I have to say is truth." There is a clanking noise from inside the engine as Thranduil pushes on something with a low noise. "Though I shall leave that assumption of character alone, for now."