Darius felt a chill and a sense of dread the moment Chris picked up the rock. His eyes were glued to it to the point he had no idea where they were going. "Ah.. I.." He glanced only momentarily at his face then back down. "Nevermind.. who cares about the poor people that come begging at your door step."

Chris smiled, like Darius had said just the right thing.

“Right you are, Darius. If they need help, they can go sulk around the churches.”

He tossed the rock up again, pausing to let it hit his palm once more.

“You know what they say about giving a man a fish.”

Darius wilted more as he watched Chris play with the stone and noticed how few people were on the street. He lightly shook his head. "I don't know what they say, I'm not a fisherman. I don't give people fish. " He took a turn on the street hoping to find someplace more crowded, though he also didn't want to believe the stone in the other man's hand was for him.

Chris cracked a grin, and threw his free arm about Darius’ shoulders.

“Oh, you darling Carringtons! Really, the emphasis some middle-class idiots have on charity is absurd. Why, I could swear a couple of our friends think their civic duty involves bending over for those fishermen.”

More like his London compatriots realized the fish weren’t left to rot as long here, but who was he to let truth get in the way of a good story?

The rock had one little black particle in it that seemed to peer back at Darius.

Darius found himself staring at the rock then at his friend's face. "You're... quiet right, as always, Chris.." He smiled slightly before poking his head around a corner. "The world is full of fools.. ah.." He wasn't sure where to go or what the other man had in mind for entertainment.
"By any chance, any form of entertainment for this evening come to mind?" He hoped it had nothing to do with the dangerous stone in the other man's hand.

“Mmph, full of them,” Chris said with a fond look at Darius … and then the rock. “Some days, I swear peoples’ heads are full of rocks.”

He tossed the rock between his hands, letting it rest in the hand closer to Darius.

“I wonder if the executioner has any fresh goods.”

Darius barely heard him as he watched that rock. It mocked him the way it sat so peacefully in the other man's hand but he knew what sort of things could be done with it and that Chris was completely capable. He couldn't handle it and placed his hand on Chris' curling his fingers around the stone to keep the man from tossing it around any more. It was a bad idea, and he looked at Chris' face certain he would be scolded at best and beaten at worst but he didn't let go. "It's worse than that.. their heads are full of useless mush."

He shook his head to try to clear the fear that was seeping in. "Who knows? We can check.."

Chris’ hand was as cold as his green eyes. There was a slightest narrowing at the corners, and he stopped walking to turn and face Darius.

Face unreadable, he ran his free hand’s finger along the underside of Darius’ chin.

“Do you want to fuck?” he said, suddenly.

Darius' eyes went wide as he stared at Chris. He knew him well, well enough to know to be terrified, and he was. But he also wanted to say yes, not just because that could be what the other wanted to hear but also...
He did want to. Chris was the only person who chose to meet with him and there was a strange thrill being around the unpredictable and vicious man that wasn't easily found.
"I... thought..you wanted to go to the gallows..." he muttered nervously. His eyes remained fixated on Chris as that hand tightened around the rock further. He couldn't help it. He was tempted but , for the moment, terror won out.

There was a shift in Chris’ gaze. A smirk. Then, he stepped back and dropped the rock to take his hand back.

“So hung up over dead things,” he said, hands in his pockets.

It sounded far more like a compliment than an admonishment. He turned back in the direction of the prison.