There's something there, a shadow that falls over him, something the Darkling recognizes all too well. Something's troubling him, simmering in the surface. The Darkling could care less about how he feels after his little performance--he could care less about the performance in general, though that's no fault of Jeff's--and instead focuses on that.
It's not just nervousness, there's something else.
The Darkling hides a small smile.
"The Small Palace is where I reside. It's not as...quaint... as this." A glance over to the interior of the Grey Gull. Is he judging? Absolutely, and he's not bothering to hide it. He's no stranger to huts with no electircity, certainly not above slumming it in tents (although, being Grisha, the Second Army tents are far more luxurious), but this is different. He was put here, he didn't choose it.
no subject
It's not just nervousness, there's something else.
The Darkling hides a small smile.
"The Small Palace is where I reside. It's not as...quaint... as this." A glance over to the interior of the Grey Gull. Is he judging? Absolutely, and he's not bothering to hide it. He's no stranger to huts with no electircity, certainly not above slumming it in tents (although, being Grisha, the Second Army tents are far more luxurious), but this is different. He was put here, he didn't choose it.