[Well, he doesn't want to be rude... on that front, anyway. He makes an attempt to be quite polite when he's not speaking to criminals.
He looks up to the display, and then seems to flick through his book. It's not an identifier, exactly, but he doesn't quite need it, not when the person in question is right in front of him. They look innocent enough, but who knows what--
All of his thoughts immediately stop like a seventeen car pileup on a busy highway when the number appears on the page.
Kravitz' eyes flick between the pages and the being standing in front of him, mouth looking like it's trying to make words and utterly failing. This is... this is absolute treason. This is the biggest bounty he's ever seen. This makes the previous record, at fifty seven, look like child's play. He's never seen someone with a death count in triple digits, let alone whatever the fuck this is.
He's struggling not to look like he's gaping. He's absolutely doing so.]
You... you.
[The book disappears as instantly as he was holding it, taking the scythe from where it was rested near his body.]
You know, one of the last times I was sent out on a job, I met a man who had died fifty seven times. And I thought, you know, that's terribly high, fifty seven and not one visit to the proper plane. But this, this is just excessive. This has blown directly past the 'maybe you've made some errors' faze and into 'this is absolutely and properly ridiculous'. Four digits? Over a thousand deaths? You can't just do that, y-- you're spitting in the face of the natural order!!
[He hasn't made a move to, like, attack them yet, at least. But he's certainly gesturing with his hands and that scythe is very present.]
no subject
He looks up to the display, and then seems to flick through his book. It's not an identifier, exactly, but he doesn't quite need it, not when the person in question is right in front of him. They look innocent enough, but who knows what--
All of his thoughts immediately stop like a seventeen car pileup on a busy highway when the number appears on the page.
Kravitz' eyes flick between the pages and the being standing in front of him, mouth looking like it's trying to make words and utterly failing. This is... this is absolute treason. This is the biggest bounty he's ever seen. This makes the previous record, at fifty seven, look like child's play. He's never seen someone with a death count in triple digits, let alone whatever the fuck this is.
He's struggling not to look like he's gaping. He's absolutely doing so.]
You... you.
[The book disappears as instantly as he was holding it, taking the scythe from where it was rested near his body.]
You know, one of the last times I was sent out on a job, I met a man who had died fifty seven times. And I thought, you know, that's terribly high, fifty seven and not one visit to the proper plane. But this, this is just excessive. This has blown directly past the 'maybe you've made some errors' faze and into 'this is absolutely and properly ridiculous'. Four digits? Over a thousand deaths? You can't just do that, y-- you're spitting in the face of the natural order!!
[He hasn't made a move to, like, attack them yet, at least. But he's certainly gesturing with his hands and that scythe is very present.]