contractuallybinding | (no subject)

Bastard... is satisfied. Wholly and completely satisfied. So full of ... energy that he hardly knows what to do with. The first two rounds. Well, they'd be silly, hadn't they? He'd spent them wondering why they were even there.

Ah, but the third. There was a flavor to it. An exquisite richness in the air, something that filled him almost to breaking, like a symphony that evoked tears. It was magnificent.

So he's in ... a particularly good mood as they walk in, but it's not as those those two have any other expectations for him. He hadn't killed anyone, though. No, but Fawn, oh, Fawn was beyond what he could have hoped. That desperation, the blind willingness to... well. Get his hands dirty when Wisp simply... couldn't.

He lets Wisp slip past him without a protest or a jibe, instead the Bastard drifts towards the table, the paper left behind.

And in the mean time... Fawn... really doesn't hear or see Wisp go, does he? The paper draws him, calls to him, begs to be read from start to finish. The Statement of an Unknown Man extracted directly from subject, recorded ??????, committed to memory by the Blank named Fawn, Day 1 of Cycle ?????, North Block. Regarding...

Edited 2020-04-06 11:51 (UTC)

It's a statement about Jared Hopworth, beginning with Jared's introduction. The Bastard will get to hear Fawn's pleasant voice for the full length of the rest of the statement. His voice is lush in detail, even mimicking his own breathy whines with precision.

When it's over, Fawn sets the statement down like a man in a dream, leaving behind perfect, bloody impressions of his fingers. There's a pleasant ache in his throat, like... like he's just finished a cigarette. He touches his throat and then his hand drifts to his ribcage to press his fingers into the soft, yielding space where his rib isn't.

That's when he notices That Bastard is still here, and jumps half out of his own skin. "- You!"

Edited 2020-04-08 01:48 (UTC)

"Was it?" That Bastard takes a step back out of Fawn's space, not looking the slightest bit put out by Fawn's remarkable surprise. Why WOULDN'T he stay? Really now. "If it was, I think you did quite a horrible impression of me. And really, what would I do with your ribs?"

But no, there are more important bits to extract from this. He turns his own statement over in his hands, unread. "Does it still hurt, Fawn?"

"Ha. Ha." Fawn enunciates each syllable sharply. "I'm sure you'd find a use for them."

"No. Not anymore." His arm stays curled around his rib cage as he gives That bastard a narrow-eyed stare. "You got one too."

So it is them, their memories, their lives that they are claiming back on these sheets.

The Bastard considers his own, then Fawn. And begins to fold it up. "So I did." And starts to put it in his pocket. There would be experimenting with Fawn and Wisp later, but the first? Perhaps the first should be his.

Fawn takes a step forward. "Not going to share, Bastard?"

He has to .. pause at that. Fawn certainly had just killed a man to get his own memories. Would he do the same to hear his teammates? Or read them?

What a delightful thought.

"Do you want this story, Fawn?" The Bastard asks, "You did seem keen to ... trade for them in you other life."

Fawn's chin tilts defiantly. He makes a jerky gesture toward himself, toward all the blood sprayed across his shirt "I already paid for it."

Oh, oh is that how it's going?

"Would you say then, that you're entitled to Wisp's as well?"

Wisp's paper sure is sitting out on the table. And Wisp himself is still absent - though both men can dimly hear him rattling about outside, water sloshing as he fills a couple buckets.

Edited 2020-04-09 21:01 (UTC)

Fawn snorts derisively. "I don't think Wisp is quite as driven to secrecy as you are."

He picks up Wisp's statement between two fingers. "Are you sure? I imagine we all have a few skeletons in our closet." And folds this one as well.

Fawn jerks forward snatching for the paper. "Give that back! He's going to notice if you steal it. "

"Hold-" He hisses. The Bastard takes a step back, shoving it in his pocket, hurriedly. "I'm merely-" Fawn really only has a second to act here.

It's a second in which Fawn doesn't act. He freezes. That Bastard's thought has found it's way to Fawn - what exactly is he going to do?

Kill his team mate?

Without the pressure of the game, the notion that he might physically overpower Elias seems ludicrous. If Wisp doesn't notice his own is missing - it's not Fawn's problem.

And perhaps -

Perhaps That Bastard had a point.

And... the Bastard seems to relax at that. Intimidated? ... Yes, actually. Maybe a little.

It doesn't last long before that smug composure slithers back in.

"Done? Good. I'll give it to him if he asks."

"It would do him some good to be a bit.. more assertive, don't you think?"

Jon grimaces, but his fingers uncurl from their clench. It's annoying to agree with the Bastard on anything. "Magnanimous of you," he mutters as the door opens.

Wisp struggles with a pair of buckets, dragging them back over towards Fawn. And ... stops after a moment? Sensing some tension here.

"Wh - what happened while I was out?" he asks, looking between the two of them.

Edited 2020-04-10 00:01 (UTC)

"Just getting to know each other," the Bastard answers. He steps out of Wisps way, and settles to lean against the far wall, watching.

"Perhaps you should groom our scrappy one outside."

Wisp looks down at the buckets, than back up at Fawn. The terminology is ... terrible, but. Not wholly inaccurate?

"I - I suppose this would be less messy outside," he admits after a moment. "Er, if you want to, Fawn?"

He hasn't noticed that his paper is missing. Yet.

"I can bathe myself, thank you." the Bastard gets most of the glare; Fawn strides over to Wisp to take the buckets. The memory has thoroughly knocked him out of his initial fugue, and he's back to his normal self. He feels... restless, and less concerned about the blood, now, but there isn't anything else to do but bathe.

"Perhaps the two of you can spend some time bonding while I'm out."

There's a look of real fear on Wisp's face for a moment at the prospect of bonding any further with Bastard. But. He can't very well insist on - on bathing Fawn, good lord. So he just presses his lips shut and glares at Bastard, staring at --

His. Pocket. And the bits of paper poking out. "Wh - is that my memory? What are you doing with that?"

Damn. Faster than he'd anticipated.

"It seems Fawn had laid claim on it, having paid for it in blood, so to speak. Mine as well." He sidesteps lightly, after all, they haven't been ASKED for.

Now Wisp whirls towards Fawn, a little less high strung but still not particularly pleased. "That's not fair," he says. "It's - it's my memory, even if. Even if I wasn't helpful."

He's not going to argue even for a moment that he deserves it.

Fawn snatches for the bucket, sighing with irritation.. "I was going to see if it had anything useful in it, but I highly doubt that." Fawn makes a sharp, indicative gesture toward the Bastard and the statements. "By all means. I can always get it out of you later."