Primarchs' Talk (3)

Angron sat in the chair, staring at Fulgrim.

In all fairness, their relationship had actually improved somewhat.

At least they no longer looked down on each other the way they had at the beginning. Back then, Fulgrim had thought Angron was just an idiot without the Nails, but even more venomous when he spoke. Angron, meanwhile, had thought this Fulgrim, who had betrayed once before, could not compare at all with the iron-willed man he had known.

But time revealed certain things. Both of them could see the precious qualities in the other, especially after they had been through several wars together. They saw them even more clearly then. But that did not mean they could get along in perfect harmony. Brotherly love and respectful deference were out of the question.

At least for now.

"Hmph."

A soft snort sounded in the quiet conference room. Ever since Sanguinius had said he needed to go handle "the Glyph Array's overheating," it was the first sound to break the silence between the two of them. It was not particularly friendly, but at least it was a start.

Angron bared his teeth. "What are you hmphing about?"

"What business is it of yours?"

"Oh."

Angron looked left and right, then spread his hands and shrugged. "So far, I'm the only living person here. So I think it ought to be my business. Come on, Phoenician. What are you hmphing about?"

The Phoenix frowned. "You really don't know that silence is golden, do you?"

"I remember you were the one who broke the silence first. Your skill at shifting blame still needs work, Phoenician."

"Ha. Not bad," Fulgrim said with a cold laugh. "A brute like you can actually use idioms and allusions now. Your intellect has evolved after all."

"Right back at you."