[ James is no stranger to watching children die. It's something that has filled most of his existence: his brothers, his friends, boys he loved as dearly as his own limbs. When he sees the child in the box, the dead eyes, he nods with grim understanding.
So. It's that manner of game. From one fire into another, then.
When Peter jostles the table, he almost barks; he'd told the man to be careful, not to let the die move unintentionally. It lands, and he knows that there's nothing to be done about it, that it can't be re-thrown, but he snatches it up to hold it in his good hand, and there is nothing that could get him to let go of it unintentionally.]
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So. It's that manner of game. From one fire into another, then.
When Peter jostles the table, he almost barks; he'd told the man to be careful, not to let the die move unintentionally. It lands, and he knows that there's nothing to be done about it, that it can't be re-thrown, but he snatches it up to hold it in his good hand, and there is nothing that could get him to let go of it unintentionally.]
Good luck.