[ Those daggers aren't going anywhere. The others, though...any good assassin keeps more than just the two.
Ignoring the way Zevran tips towards him in invitation, Bull keeps a steady hold on the rope. It'd be enough to keep him upright even if he wasn't kneeling, and it means he's free to run a hand along his side, down the narrow slope of his hip, feeling out where the rest might be hiding.
Of course, it gives him a good feel of the man under his clothes, all lean muscle, easily felt beneath the few layers of fabric still keeping him decent. When he feels something else, the rigid handle of a blade, he eases it free nice and slow. The blade glints in the light as it turns it over, hovering just above Zevran's collarbone like a threat. Or a promise.
Then it clatters to the floor behind them, and the search begins again. Slow. Thorough. No inch of him is spared, though rough fingers slipping up beneath the hem of his shirt and beneath the waist of his pants, peeling him out of his boots. Each blade is given a cursory look and then discarded, one by one.
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Date: 2015-12-26 07:15 am (UTC)[ Those daggers aren't going anywhere. The others, though...any good assassin keeps more than just the two.
Ignoring the way Zevran tips towards him in invitation, Bull keeps a steady hold on the rope. It'd be enough to keep him upright even if he wasn't kneeling, and it means he's free to run a hand along his side, down the narrow slope of his hip, feeling out where the rest might be hiding.
Of course, it gives him a good feel of the man under his clothes, all lean muscle, easily felt beneath the few layers of fabric still keeping him decent. When he feels something else, the rigid handle of a blade, he eases it free nice and slow. The blade glints in the light as it turns it over, hovering just above Zevran's collarbone like a threat. Or a promise.
Then it clatters to the floor behind them, and the search begins again. Slow. Thorough. No inch of him is spared, though rough fingers slipping up beneath the hem of his shirt and beneath the waist of his pants, peeling him out of his boots. Each blade is given a cursory look and then discarded, one by one.
Might hang on to one of them, by the end of it. ]