[ if this were any other situation, he'd bring bond to him. lay some delicious bites of cheese. little packets of data. but they've done that before, out—there—and it's tiresome, to be the man behind the curtain, never drawing the curtain aside (only to peek out and laugh, sometimes). silva can afford to be proactive. he's not just some trapdoor, lying in wait; he's an ambush, a hungry animal with ideas that don't work so well in lines of binary.
his answer, when it comes, is near bond's ear, hummed out in a low breath. ]
Wouldn't you like to know.
[ he backs away, enough to put a respectable distance between them, but not enough to look harmless. he raises the champagne to his lips and smiles over the rim, eyes narrowed in charming assessment; bond's shaven, he looks good, looks presentable. every inch the double-oh status he hasn't technically earned back yet.
no subject
his answer, when it comes, is near bond's ear, hummed out in a low breath. ]
Wouldn't you like to know.
[ he backs away, enough to put a respectable distance between them, but not enough to look harmless. he raises the champagne to his lips and smiles over the rim, eyes narrowed in charming assessment; bond's shaven, he looks good, looks presentable. every inch the double-oh status he hasn't technically earned back yet.
lightly: ]
You look nice.
[ by which he means not dead. ]