Norrell glances up at Childermass with detached interest, momentarily annoyed by the impertinence of the way he is slouching and, in truth, his general impropriety but letting it slide.
With Childermass it is a pointless battle, after all, and some things he has grown used to enough to simply ignore.
His eyes drop down to his writing once more and he continues in silence -- an obvious sign he is building to something. Trying to arrange his irritation into the correct formation to express himself. Norrell does not have a way with words, and such things take him longer than some others. Especially so when he is multi-tasking, as it were.
"You are asking me," he begins, "if I have finished my letters. My letters! And what concern have you of my letters?" he sets his pen down finally and stares down Childermass, as if the question may be legitimate -- when of course, it is not. He is allowed only long enough to contemplate this (and the inherent accusation in it, that he clearly has none) when Norrell is wagging his pen at him. "What concern have you of my letters, when you neglect your own job so carelessly! When the fae are threatening me, causing trouble in my own territory! When I am accosted in book stores! It is vengeance, I tell you! Vengeance! And where were you? It was your advice that had me working with a blood sucker and now I am sure to pay for it! I have little guarantee he will even help us come Croydon, or what worth that help will be!"
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With Childermass it is a pointless battle, after all, and some things he has grown used to enough to simply ignore.
His eyes drop down to his writing once more and he continues in silence -- an obvious sign he is building to something. Trying to arrange his irritation into the correct formation to express himself. Norrell does not have a way with words, and such things take him longer than some others. Especially so when he is multi-tasking, as it were.
"You are asking me," he begins, "if I have finished my letters. My letters! And what concern have you of my letters?" he sets his pen down finally and stares down Childermass, as if the question may be legitimate -- when of course, it is not. He is allowed only long enough to contemplate this (and the inherent accusation in it, that he clearly has none) when Norrell is wagging his pen at him. "What concern have you of my letters, when you neglect your own job so carelessly! When the fae are threatening me, causing trouble in my own territory! When I am accosted in book stores! It is vengeance, I tell you! Vengeance! And where were you? It was your advice that had me working with a blood sucker and now I am sure to pay for it! I have little guarantee he will even help us come Croydon, or what worth that help will be!"