[table][tr][td][div style="width: 70px; height:70px; background-image:url(https://i.imgbox.com/4XVwGFUK.png); background-size: cover; background-position: top;"][/td][td][div style="width: 100px; text-align: center; font-family: arial; font-size: 7pt; color: #8A8A8A; line-height: 100%; padding-top: 5px; padding-left: 10px; opacity: 0.75; text-transform: lowercase"]Secrets on Broadway to the freeway, you're a keeper of crimes; Fear no conviction, grapes of wrath can only sweeten your wine
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Pulling away from where he'd been leaning surreptitiously in Marko's direction, a languid movement that took far longer than it had to - watching it made people feel tired - Rialto's limpid eyes affixed on their brand new friend to trace every line of his coiled up, mortal figure. Weighing him up as much as he did them, the spread of faces and names bared for him to evaluate.
He had to slap a hand over his mouth to stifle a snicker in time with Cat's quirk of the lips, in a manner that spoke volumes about how he wasn't trying to hide his amusement at all. Maverick wasn't an unclever fellow. Rialto gave Marko the widest of all shit-eating smiles, propping one of his own elbows up on a hand and whispering to him, airily, 'Walk it off, boss. Walk it off.' They only bullied him in good fun, you know. Bonding activities with the family. That much seemed to clear out what half a second ago could have been frigid vigilance marking his posture, and for the rest of the altercation - or, you know, perfectly polite discussion - Rialto felt free to warm the side benches.
For the briefest moment his gaze flicked over to their scrappy leader himself and his equally brief interception of Michael, and again just as fast Rialto feigned nonchalance by looking up at the sky. See no evil.
He had to slap a hand over his mouth to stifle a snicker in time with Cat's quirk of the lips, in a manner that spoke volumes about how he wasn't trying to hide his amusement at all. Maverick wasn't an unclever fellow. Rialto gave Marko the widest of all shit-eating smiles, propping one of his own elbows up on a hand and whispering to him, airily, 'Walk it off, boss. Walk it off.' They only bullied him in good fun, you know. Bonding activities with the family. That much seemed to clear out what half a second ago could have been frigid vigilance marking his posture, and for the rest of the altercation - or, you know, perfectly polite discussion - Rialto felt free to warm the side benches.
For the briefest moment his gaze flicked over to their scrappy leader himself and his equally brief interception of Michael, and again just as fast Rialto feigned nonchalance by looking up at the sky. See no evil.