[Javert takes another brief puff. His smirk lasts just long enough for a notice, glimmering eyes capturing Philip's again.] You like my tastes. It is pure. Unfiltered, none of that trash. You don't know what they mix in those.
Didn't I tell you my habit is overindulgent, sometimes?
[Only those most intimately familiar with Javert would catch it: a twist at the corner of his mouth, a slight downturn in his smirk.
Evasion. Don't think you made it in the clear with that answer, Philip. Javert can smell evasion from kilometers away. That's an observation for Javert's mental filing cabinet -- and rest assured, he keeps an impressive catalogue for each suspect fellow he has the distinct pleasure of meeting and whatever flashes of their future actions that he manages to tease out in his daily hurricane of sights. His eyebrow drifts up curiously, and he lapses into a silence. To the onlooker, the subtle change in expression does not make him any easier to read.
Suddenly a cold smile cracks his granite face, producing a darkening, rather than brightening effect, like the mastiff smiling at the cat. Javert really is a terrifying man to behold, no matter how disarmingly casual his chatter. It's his presence, his sheer expression and manner; he conveys a haughtiness, a calm and proud control full of all the authority his years with the Aurors afforded him. To the men who sought to aid, such a demeanor is reassuring. To men with something to hide...
Less so.]
Ah, practical skills, there! Spoken sensibly and without superstitions. It is a start. Better than many wizards, with their idiot focus on hiding away from danger and transforming feathers into gold for a quick coin instead of teaching something useful. Like dark arts preparedness. Or simple disarming spells. Basic protection from attack. [He rolls the cigarette thoughtfully between pinched fingers, lids finally lowering to the table. It is a brief respite for Philip from Javert's unrelenting stare.] Awful many changed teachers over the years. It's chaos. Are your students lagging? Did you notice?
no subject
Didn't I tell you my habit is overindulgent, sometimes?
[Only those most intimately familiar with Javert would catch it: a twist at the corner of his mouth, a slight downturn in his smirk.
Evasion. Don't think you made it in the clear with that answer, Philip. Javert can smell evasion from kilometers away. That's an observation for Javert's mental filing cabinet -- and rest assured, he keeps an impressive catalogue for each suspect fellow he has the distinct pleasure of meeting and whatever flashes of their future actions that he manages to tease out in his daily hurricane of sights. His eyebrow drifts up curiously, and he lapses into a silence. To the onlooker, the subtle change in expression does not make him any easier to read.
Suddenly a cold smile cracks his granite face, producing a darkening, rather than brightening effect, like the mastiff smiling at the cat. Javert really is a terrifying man to behold, no matter how disarmingly casual his chatter. It's his presence, his sheer expression and manner; he conveys a haughtiness, a calm and proud control full of all the authority his years with the Aurors afforded him. To the men who sought to aid, such a demeanor is reassuring. To men with something to hide...
Less so.]
Ah, practical skills, there! Spoken sensibly and without superstitions. It is a start. Better than many wizards, with their idiot focus on hiding away from danger and transforming feathers into gold for a quick coin instead of teaching something useful. Like dark arts preparedness. Or simple disarming spells. Basic protection from attack. [He rolls the cigarette thoughtfully between pinched fingers, lids finally lowering to the table. It is a brief respite for Philip from Javert's unrelenting stare.] Awful many changed teachers over the years. It's chaos. Are your students lagging? Did you notice?