andyougoleft | |: 007. Video : The Long Drive Home is Taking Its Toll :|

     [ Public ]

     [Slevin is back in his cabin; he looks... vaguely threatened, but only because he found this in his closet. It blinks white and blue and green and red reflecting off his face even when he lowers it to address the network.]

     Biological terrorist attack, word salad, and cruel and unusual wardrobe punishment aside - and I'm not wearing this, by the way, ever - there's supposed to be a religious aspect to this time of year. I'm not even going to pick one, I just haven't seen that part of it addressed.

     Is anyone planning on holding any kind of service?  Doesn't matter what denomination or even religion, really. Can anyone?

    [ Private : Cassel Sharpe ]

    Do they have Christmas where you're from?


    [ Private : The Admiral ]

    [Slevin's list comes both in text and with bullet points. Deal with it. That's what you get for ~compelling~ him.]

Chris D'Amico: cologne and hair gel. nicer than his brand.
Cassel Sharpe: a cat palace.
Harvey Dent: cuff links - mismatched.
Iris Wildthyme: a leg lamp.
Kara Zor-El: a new dress, in that style she really likes. a nice one.
Abigail Hobbs: a penlight.
Erik Lensherr: itching powder - not in his clothes.
Kevin Prentiss: better friends
Marquis de Carabas: a bungee cord
Hannibal Lecter: cyanide. in his morning coffee.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oh my god, fuck you, Slevin, you don't know shit.

[Just like that it's gone: every shred of control thrown to the wind, because fuck it, seriously, he doesn't need this, Slevin isn't his inmate, he doesn't need to be smart. He's been smart for longer now than he ever has been before and it's fucking exhausting when all he wants some days is to go away. Hide and lock the door until it and his cabin and he all disappear.]

[There are good reasons not to. Chris, Zane, Daneca, everybody - really good reasons not to - but Cassel has always had good reasons to do good. Never meant he did it. He's supposed to be better now - is better. Has impulse control. Most of the time.]

[Nobody's perfect.]

You don't know jack shit about my victims.

[He could push; there's the chink, the flash of throat, the foundation of everything open for him to destroy at will. He's more than clever enough, more than capable of following the track that his marks weave ahead of him through the brambles, and Cassel is flagging prey. Random and without direction, without a plan, without intent.

He waits, dark eyes steady and cold and deep, arms folded. He does not flinch, does not react, does not acknowledge the accusation. It slides off, and in its wake, Slevin's voice is low.]

No?

That's what I fucking said. I fucking said no.

[Jesus. Why is he still talking? He's being baited. This is idiotic.]

[He tightens his shoulders, pushes them back until something cracks, then relaxes.]

You know shit about me. You know my tells, you know when I'm lying just by looking at me. But you don't know my past and you don't know my people, and you don't get to pass judgment or take it away. You don't get to try to do whatever the hell it is you're trying to do. Not now, not like this.

[He feels, in a weird way, betrayed. This is not what Kon promised him. In another way, he feels righteous. But it still feels like shit.]

Well. My mistake.

[It isn't his mistake. It isn't his mistake at all and they both know it. Nothing about his tone suggests he believes for a moment the words he's saying. They are a concession, a step back and a raise of open, empty palms. Not harmless, not a retreat, but an acknowledgement.

Just not an acknowledgement of error.

Slevin leans forward slightly, filling the screen of his communicator.]

Hide it better. Or fix it. Or have a better answer for the next person that asks.

Next person who asks better not be you.

[This is, oddly enough, not a threat. More a statement of desire: he hopes, wishes even, that the next person who asks is someone Cassel can align more clearly as friend or enemy. Slevin isn't either. He lives in the nebulous valley between them and seems comfortable and happy digging himself in there, being inscrutable and mean, making Cassel edgy by his very presence.]

[Breathing deliberately, Cassel shrugs.]

Thanks for the tip. [Referring to Chris's wish or Cassel's flaws, it's hard to say.] You leave me alone for a while, I think that's best.

[And he cuts the feed, cursing himself for being too vulnerable, too weak, an easy mark. This is what his redemption is.]

[It's times like this he questions it.]

[The valley in between is the only place he fits.

Slevin watches, waits, and he is not surprised by anything he hears or sees. He doesn't try to respond, either aloud or otherwise, doesn't promise not to come near Cassel and doesn't threaten to do the same.

Neither does he try to re-open the feed, sitting with the communicator in his hand, unsmiling.

He stops, after that; stops showing up where Cassel is, stops meeting his eyes across a crowd, stops lingering in the hallway doing anything at all but waiting or watching. It's not because he thinks Cassel was threatening him.

He doesn't give a reason at all.]

|: 007. Video : The Long Drive Home is Taking Its Toll :|

private/video

private/video

private/video

private/video

private/video

private/video