The vicious snap of Rorschach's mind reminds Lestat of precisely that sort of dog, as well as the especially disgruntled heavy-shelled turtles of the Louisiana swamps. All bite and carapace, so difficult to unhinged from their shells and turn into what he understands to be a delectable soup.
He might like to do much the same to Rorschach. Wriggle him out of his high-buttoned coat and peel back the mask, then set him to simmering in a broth of indulgence. What sort of flavours might he eke out of a properly softened Rorschach?
The last time he saw Rorschach's teeth, he retreated. This time, he flashes his own, his smile as hard as it is shining.
"Then it seems you're in need of an education in taming them," he thinks, almost unbidden, the whim striking him in an instant, "The book shut, the door barred. Is that what you'd like, my little snapping turtle?"
cw: animal hunting (referenced)
He might like to do much the same to Rorschach. Wriggle him out of his high-buttoned coat and peel back the mask, then set him to simmering in a broth of indulgence. What sort of flavours might he eke out of a properly softened Rorschach?
The last time he saw Rorschach's teeth, he retreated. This time, he flashes his own, his smile as hard as it is shining.
"Then it seems you're in need of an education in taming them," he thinks, almost unbidden, the whim striking him in an instant, "The book shut, the door barred. Is that what you'd like, my little snapping turtle?"