[Javert silently lowers his chin into his primly buttoned collar and paces in a lazy circle around the center of the room while Amon speaks. He listens with an intensity disguised by his wandering gaze. The man is a dark detective by nature, and he lets his exacting eye snap to each fixture, paper, and knick knack of interest that he could find. He thoroughly commits the whole scene to his memory, knowing that Amon is a force to be reckoned with and a mystery to crack, and knowing as well that everything he sees has the potential to clue him in on his character and capabilities. The only clear indication that he is indeed listening to Amon's droning speech is a clipped nod at the bit about kedan and earning their trust.
Javert does not quit his plodding tread until Amon's direct request. He stops abruptly, a shot to the breast that does not quite fell him, and he raises his head to search Amon's battered face. A small grimace pinches his jaw.]
A doctor. [Wry.] Fine.
[The tone could not be any more unreadable. His arms unravel and lift away the bangs away from his forehead. His brow floats up, but his eyes pierce. Amon intrigues him -- earnestly intrigues him. And if this bloodbending ability is as formidable as he has heard, there is perhaps something that could come of this visit.]
So what can the doctor do for this that the quack priestess could not?
no subject
Javert does not quit his plodding tread until Amon's direct request. He stops abruptly, a shot to the breast that does not quite fell him, and he raises his head to search Amon's battered face. A small grimace pinches his jaw.]
A doctor. [Wry.] Fine.
[The tone could not be any more unreadable. His arms unravel and lift away the bangs away from his forehead. His brow floats up, but his eyes pierce. Amon intrigues him -- earnestly intrigues him. And if this bloodbending ability is as formidable as he has heard, there is perhaps something that could come of this visit.]
So what can the doctor do for this that the quack priestess could not?