That shake lingers on much longer than it should, the grin on Jim's face fading slowly. Grip tightening, Jim bridges the grap between them and brings himself a less-than comfortable distance from Sebastian. The height difference between the two is far from off-putting to him, and he tilts his head up slightly to compensate and still keep his eyes fixated on Sebastians. Unblinking, vise grip attempting to crush the life out of his new associate's hand, he gazes up at him with an unchecked malice.

"If you so much as think of crossing me," Moriarty begins, his voice a low and even whisper, practically a serpents his. "I will rip you apart, piece by piece. Don't misunderstand me, Moran, your friend's fate was swift and clean granted by an angel of death. I am no angel. I will flay the very flesh from your limbs, bleed you, shatter every bone in you to a million teensie bits before I give you the satisfaction of dying."

There is a long, drawn out pause as he searches the other man's expression, hovering but an inch from him. Proximity is a tool of great use to any proper predator; sure, the stalking, hunting and running down of prey is wonderful, but luring and enticing them of their own accord, drawing them in, letting them believe they are safe before getting snagged in a web an devoured was much more clever. Much more fun. Fortunately for Sebastian he would be spared the latter part, but Moriarty could not deny his nature.

"Do you understand?"