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?

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[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.

Oh, obviously. [He grins, briefly, and reaches down to fill his glass. He feels a brief flare of anger when his first thought is To Ellie.]

You need to stop getting killed.

I've only gotten killed twice.

["Only."]

Just . . . hurt, other times.

[cassel.......]

Stop that, too.

Why?

[This is a frank, honest question. He does not understand why.]

[James is not entirely sure, in that instant, which of them is more maladjusted.]

Because I don't want you getting hurt.

[He wishes he was drunk, so he could let that be an excuse. Instead, he has to force the frank answer in response to the frank question.]

Oh.

[He doesn't let Bond get away with it. Just stares at him with dark, wide eyes, a little confused, a little pleased.]

But sometimes it's the best way to get things done. You get hurt all the time.

[His response is quiet, when it comes, almost reluctant enough to be dragged out of him.]

Do you really want to be like me?

Yes.

[His response, in turn, is instant. Intense. Perfectly honest. Yes. Cassel wants to be like him, flaws and all. Broken parts and all. Ugliness and all.]

[You don't just love people for their good parts. You love people for all of them. That's what he's learned here. And Bond has taught him more than he will ever suspect.]

[His eyes shift away, staring at the far wall. His hand, however, remains on Cassel's head. James doesn't speak, not at first. Flaws are not easy to love. Flaws are easy to hate. He has hated many flaws, in many people. His has hated and ignored his own by turn.

Downing the gin, he lets it burn all the way down. It's been years since it made his spine tingle on the way.]

I want you to be better.

[His mouth curves into a little smile, though he hides it against the fabric of Bond's knee.]

I am better. I'm better than I've ever been.

You helped me get better. Why wouldn't I want to be like you?

♠ | 025 | Voice

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