The second day of dealing with the Il Prescelti Sette, Harry decided, as one of his co-workers was fond of saying, 'that shit don't fly'. He wasn't to the point of furious yet, but this Sinclair guy was annoying as Hell. The Unspeakables may want him here because that Checkerface fellow was a dangerous... well, even Harry will admit to the word "freak" here (arrogant arse had all the morality of Cthulhu) - but that doesn't mean he has to put up with mistreatment for it.
"Stop being a God damned abusive dick," he dodged the follow-up kick with as much ease as the first.
"Just giving you some tough love, civvie," Sinclair sneered, dismissive.
"Yeah, my uncle believed in your sort of tough love too," Skull smiled sweetly, tone bored and eyes cold. "He's buried eight feet under a garden shed with a belt around his neck for it. Think on that a bit, hmm?"
Sinclair blinked as the kid walked away casual as you please. Viper, on the other hand, hummed as if Skull had just gotten interesting.
Fon chuckled. He had gotten a tad more interesting.
Luce's eyes, for a flicker of a moment, went calculating. Skull was... hard to See.