[When the feed comes on, it's to Bond's back, moving away from the camera. It only takes a moment for him to get far enough away that it's clear where he is - an empty, Barge standard room - and that he is not alone. Esther is sitting in a chair facing the camera. Bond steps around her, pulling off his tie and tugging her hands up to bind them in front of her. When he looks up at the camera, it's brief, and only to assure himself that the recording light is on.
As Esther rouses, she focuses, and immediately begins to tear up.] What are you doing? Let me go!
Stop that. [Bond is short with her, his patience gone. He's been back less than an hour; of course Esther would be the first to run into him.
When Esther shows no intention of obeying, Bond steps in front of her - not to hide that he backhands her, because that much is clear even without direct line of sight. He starts speaking without looking at the camera, moving around behind Esther again. He ignores her tears, and more than that, her cries for help.]
Usually I don't mind a good lie. [He reaches for the ribbon around her neck, and grabs a fistful of her hair when she shrieks and tosses her head. When he tears it away, there's a scar around her collar. He has to raise his voice, because the moment he pulls it free, she starts screaming like a wild thing, not the prim little girl she's been pretending to be.] But I think this one's gone far enough.
[Her wrists are next, and Bond pulls her arms up. Esther struggles, half rising; Bond shoves her back into the chair, and rips away the ribbons on her wrists, revealing more scars.]
Most of you will remember a flood where the Admiral thought it would be a good laugh to send us back to our youth. [He throws her arms back down, glaring a warning, and pulls a handkerchief from his jacket pocket. Bending over her shoulder, he drags the cloth over her face, holding up the makeup stained pocket square for the camera. He returns to the task, hand tight in her hair to keep her still, acting as though her shrieks don't phase him. The more makeup he wipes away, the less child-like she looks.] Esther tried to convince us that she'd been aged up instead of down. [Grabbing her by the jaw, he forces her mouth open so he can shove the handkerchief in as a temporary gag.]
She's a grown woman, responsible for the fire, my death and near death, and Ellie's attack. These scars are from a straitjacket - the one she wore when she was a teenager. She's been pretending to be eight for god knows how long - long before the Admiral decided she deserved a second chance. [He sneers.] I'd certainly disagree.
last rat standing
- ♠ | 023 | Video
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lastrat- February 6th, 2014
- ♠ | 020 | Voice + Spam
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- lastrat
- November 4th, 2013
( Private notes to Elena, Cassel, Chris, Selina, & Natasha )
[Pub Spam]
[He really ought to be in the infirmary, but don't try to tell him that. Bond died an ugly, bloody death, and stayed that way for a day or two. It's an ugly knowledge, and it coils tight in the pit of his belly. Liquor doesn't soothe it, just eases it for a while. It sits a little looser, quieter. And the burn warms him, settles and spreads. It hurts his throat, though the burn has always been pleasant before.
He remembers Elena's teeth sinking into his skin, tearing, and fixes another martini.
He's far gone, drunker than he's ever been on the Barge, and he can't bring himself to care. He usually only gets this pissed on planes, or in the safety of his own flat at home: not when there are dangers around any given corner, not when there are vampires, werewolves, people who have every right to strip reparations for bad memories from his hide.
Not that he'd let them - not that he could do much, like this.
He sits at the bar, a martini in one hand, the other rubbing his aching eyes. Sleep would do him good, but he can't bring himself to leave yet. Not until the ache in the side of his neck fades, not until everything becomes a low buzz and nothing else.]
( Spam for Vesper )
- ♠ | 012 | Video + Spam
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- lastrat
- June 23rd, 2013
[Backdated to Saturday! James is looking p l e n t y pissed when he clicks on the camera, and for a moment there is just an incredibly pissed off face - and then he focuses the feed on his other hand, which is holding a book (naval war history). Except on closer inspection, he's not holding it at all. It's actually stuck to the palm of his hand.]
Parker, if you don't get in here and tell me how to turn this off, I swear I'm going to wring your neck.
[It was a lot funnier when he was just hearing about it happening to Peter, okay.]
( spam for vesper )