[Black Hat always keeps his secrets close to himself. That this is another such secret, tied up with Flug himself, now out in the wider world aggravates him. It's less about the value - though there certainly is value in Flug's face, his true face beneath the bag. A face that is one of Black Hat's secrets, that represents an aspect of himself.
Flug is special. More special than he could possibly realize without Black Hat out and out saying it. No one else in Ryslig holds the knowledge he does. The memories he does. The truth of what Black Hat is, unchained and unbound by upstart deities. And even if Flug doesn't know the full extent of it (for who could know that besides Black Hat himself), he knows more, far more than anyone else in Ryslig. He holds the memories, the proof of Black Hat. The vessel for that truth. No artifact could compare.
He's not in the mood for Flug's metaphors.]
You're not an artifact! No one is discovering you to sell you off to some collector!
[Though there are certainly parties here who might - it’s what Black Hat might do, in another universe. He pulls his other hand from Flug's face to pinch the space between his eyes. The hand on Flug's shoulder, the one the arachne is covering, does not move from its place.]
This is only for me to see. Only for me to know.
[A mantra he’s repeated over and over, trying to beat it into Flug’s head. He needs Flug to understand fully - if he just says it enough, it’ll get through that skull. It has to. And maybe Flug is starting to catch on just a bit.
Black Hat’s grip loosens ever so lightly. He does get to lord it over everyone (except Virgil, now.) A mystery right in front of their eyes, one they cannot solve despite the simplicity of it. A cruel torment for the inquisitive, who will always wonder what lies beneath that bag. One of Black Hat's many secrets.]
no subject
Flug is special. More special than he could possibly realize without Black Hat out and out saying it. No one else in Ryslig holds the knowledge he does. The memories he does. The truth of what Black Hat is, unchained and unbound by upstart deities. And even if Flug doesn't know the full extent of it (for who could know that besides Black Hat himself), he knows more, far more than anyone else in Ryslig. He holds the memories, the proof of Black Hat. The vessel for that truth. No artifact could compare.
He's not in the mood for Flug's metaphors.]
You're not an artifact! No one is discovering you to sell you off to some collector!
[Though there are certainly parties here who might - it’s what Black Hat might do, in another universe. He pulls his other hand from Flug's face to pinch the space between his eyes. The hand on Flug's shoulder, the one the arachne is covering, does not move from its place.]
This is only for me to see. Only for me to know.
[A mantra he’s repeated over and over, trying to beat it into Flug’s head. He needs Flug to understand fully - if he just says it enough, it’ll get through that skull. It has to. And maybe Flug is starting to catch on just a bit.
Black Hat’s grip loosens ever so lightly. He does get to lord it over everyone (except Virgil, now.) A mystery right in front of their eyes, one they cannot solve despite the simplicity of it. A cruel torment for the inquisitive, who will always wonder what lies beneath that bag. One of Black Hat's many secrets.]