He didn’t smile or laugh at her joke, but Jamie kept her smile firm in place, easy and true and perhaps more smirk than anything else. His answers were not so much answers as clues, and she liked that. Captivity had broadened her horizons, or perhaps it had just lowered her standards, and she found herself warming to the idea of him quite rapidly. She was enjoying herself for the first time in what felt like decades, though she knew even by thinking that she was being dramatic.
“Oh, now don’t go selling yourself short, Mr. Yorke,” she said, crossing her arms beneath her breasts while still holding the book so that it lay heavy and cool along her side. “I’m sure you’re doing the library a grand service here by arranging these books as you are. Surely there’s some sort of spark of karmic goodness in that, or are you perhaps mussing them further by arranging them however you are? The Dewey Decimal System was invented for a reason, you know.”
At his question concerning which ring of hell she might belong in, she had to figure that by Dante’s standards even the ninth ring would be too gentle for her. “Malicious” was an apt word, though once again Moriarty found that to be some sort of flowery term for what she believed to be very natural instincts. She was born with the overwhelming desire to create and an equally powerful desire to break, and to do both in equal measure just seemed like balance to her. All the gentler instincts in the world such as love or kindness that were sometimes attributed to the presence of an omnipotent deity were simply a glitch in the system of all human beings, best she could tell. Even she herself was not entirely immune. “Oh, who’s to say?” She replied instead. “I believe Dante was partial to damning people to hell for things most people do nowadays. Is there a certain level of hell reserved for those of us that eat meat on Sundays or some such nonsense? I did enjoy a rather tasty burger just yesterday.”
no subject
“Oh, now don’t go selling yourself short, Mr. Yorke,” she said, crossing her arms beneath her breasts while still holding the book so that it lay heavy and cool along her side. “I’m sure you’re doing the library a grand service here by arranging these books as you are. Surely there’s some sort of spark of karmic goodness in that, or are you perhaps mussing them further by arranging them however you are? The Dewey Decimal System was invented for a reason, you know.”
At his question concerning which ring of hell she might belong in, she had to figure that by Dante’s standards even the ninth ring would be too gentle for her. “Malicious” was an apt word, though once again Moriarty found that to be some sort of flowery term for what she believed to be very natural instincts. She was born with the overwhelming desire to create and an equally powerful desire to break, and to do both in equal measure just seemed like balance to her. All the gentler instincts in the world such as love or kindness that were sometimes attributed to the presence of an omnipotent deity were simply a glitch in the system of all human beings, best she could tell. Even she herself was not entirely immune. “Oh, who’s to say?” She replied instead. “I believe Dante was partial to damning people to hell for things most people do nowadays. Is there a certain level of hell reserved for those of us that eat meat on Sundays or some such nonsense? I did enjoy a rather tasty burger just yesterday.”