lastrat | ♠ | 025

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♠ | 025 | Voice

[No video, this time, because he's still fucking angry. He can control the edge in his voice just barely - he can't control the glower. And he has yet to clean up his shattered Item, the second time he's broken it against a wall of his flat.

When he clicks on the audio, he sounds angry, but you might believe that he's managing it just fine. Might.]

Ellie's vanished.

[And that's all. He's not one for elaboration.]

[Private to Natasha]

Busy?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hey.

Bring me booze.

[Come sulk with him, Bond. And by 'sulk' he means 'get drunk'.]

[He almost asks if his hands have fallen off before he remembers the death toll. It makes him exhale, not quite a sigh and certainly nothing contrite. He's angry. And sulky. It's not a bad offer.]

Where are you?

My room, dumbass. Where do you think?

Knowing you?

[He doesn't answer, just leaves it hovering. Instead, he grabs a couple bottles, two rocks glasses, and makes his way there. He's so practiced, he manages to knock without clanking anything together.]

It's open!

[Which it is. Cassel isn't bothering to lock it anymore. If anybody wants to come in and beat him up or whatever, they're welcome to it if it keeps him from having to get up and answer the door for people.]

[Fuck it, in other words.]

[He's cocooned on his bed, Ilia purring smugly between his side and the wall. He waves a vague hand at Bond.]

Hey.

[Bond lets himself in and closes the door behind him with a scowl. He sets the empty bottles on the emptier desk, glasses beside them.]

What the hell is the door doing open?

[Cassel rolls his eyes. Which hurts.]

Letting assholes like you in. What's your problem?

You may have noticed have noticed some of the dangers the Barge presents.

[So. Dry. He pours some gin into a glass and brings it to Cassel, dragging over a chair for himself.]

[He downs it the second it's handed to him. Sorry buddy, hope this wasn't expensive gin or anything.]

Yeah, maybe. But it's better than having to get up. Anyway, Ilia'll kill anybody who fucks with me.

You better not fuck with me.

[Scooting a little towards the edge of the bed, he leans his head on the closest part of Bond, which happens to be his knee. God, he's tired.]

[Whatever he was about to say is aborted before he has enough air to fill his lungs. There is a head on his knee and he is not sure he's okay with this. He's fairly certain he isn't, actually, which begs the question of why he hasn't jiggled his leg or pulled Cassel up by the collar.

He exhales his exasperation, sips his gin, and gives the back of Cassel's head a wry, less-than-pleased look. He still hasn't nudged his new barnacle off, though, and his tone isn't as mean as he intended it to be. Damn.]

Comfortable?

[Cassel doesn't see it. He's trying to get his back comfortable. It's only sort of working. Bizarrely, he interprets Bond's question as genuine, which, wow. Have you even met him, Cassel?]

Kinda. It's just my neck and my back feel like they got broken a bunch of times.

[He scoots a little closer, then settles more or less comfortably.]

[Seriously Cassel. Seriously.

Bond lifts his eyes skyward - spaceward? - wondering just when his life spiraled so far out of his usual expectations. He doesn't soften or feel sorry, because Cassel is alive to feel like his back is broken and that is better than he'd get at home. But Bond lets him lay, slouching back in his chair and sipping.]

Who did it?

Zane did.

I already had to talk like three people out of trying to kill him, so don't start with me. It's fine.

Oh, I'm through fighting your battles. [Not that he remotely regrets roughing Dent up a bit.]

You'll manage to get back at him if that's what you want.

[It's probably what Bond would want. Probably.

Then again, he didn't go after Elena in return. Sometimes you just accept the things that are done.]

I don't want. Is that so hard for people to believe?

[Maybe it is. He'd really rather Bond didn't tell him he was crazy, too, though. There's almost a guarantee that Bond is crazier.]

[He presses his face into Bond's knee and groans, curling up closer. Fuck this death toll, though.]

[James shrugs silently, watching Cassel curl, groan, press. Fuck it indeed. He's not sure when he accepted his lot as a pillow, but here they are. Briefly, just for a moment, he settles his hand on Cassel's head.]

Here? Not really.

[His shoulders relax at the touch, clench again when Bond's hand moves away.]

Maybe one day I'll demand blood vengeance, just to fuck with people. See what happens.

[No he won't. Probably.]

[He can see Cassel tensing up, let alone feel the change. He exhales through his nose and rests his hand back where it was, thumb idly rubbing along the back of his skull.]

I'm sure everyone would be shocked and appalled. I can think of a few who might be excited by the prospect. You'd have to provide popcorn.

I can do that.

[He relaxes into Bond's touch, maybe even smirks a little at the sharp exhale. It feels better, though. He doesn't feel so alone, like this.]

You wouldn't be shocked and appalled, though, I bet.

[It's a small reminder of camaraderie and unity. Bond's not big on small reminders. As it is, he smiles wryly at the wall.]

No. I'm more often doing the shocking and appalling.

[Someone has to, and he's very good at it.]

You're not very good at shocking and appalling me.

[This is not strictly speaking true. But it's a white lie.]

[He snorts outright at that.]

I've seen you shocked and appalled.

[It's okay. He doesn't shock and appall himself, but he knows there were better ways to go about some of the things he's done.]

Only when you wash people's mouths out with soap. That's shockingly and appallingly old-fashioned.

I seem to remember you laughing so hard there were tears in your eyes.

Obviously I was laughing out of shock.

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