||| 008 spam/video

[outofclothes]

spam/video.
[Stark spends some of his time on the deck. He's not really interested in busting down the door to get to the Bridge. He's actually far more interested in watching everyone else make incredibly doomed and failure-prone attempts to get in there. Even if they're just considering it, he is probably going to laugh to himself.]

[It's from his spot on the deck he makes his broadcast, puffing on a Malediction already.]

Just a quick poll, how many of you are actually planning on trying to break into the Bridge? More importantly, do you think there will be a unicorn or a pegasus running on the rainbow in there?

[He's a cynic, what can he say?]

[The Admiral is dying and the boat's crashing and burning with him. There's really not much else to do about it, but this is a tenacious and incredibly stupid bunch that will keep running full-tilt into walls to survive and get ahead if they think that's what they think will make it happen.]

[Stark used to be like that, but that got burned out of him a long time ago.]

Tell you what though, one of you manages to get the door open and survives, I'll send you a bottle of Aqua Regia, some Cubans on me with a stripper of your choice.

spam - ned.
[Stark doesn't knock. Because Stark doesn't even use the door. Ever. He steps through a shadow somewhere else on the Barge and comes out of a shadow in Ned's room without any warning. He likes the element of surprise.]

Hey there, Sunshine. How are you holding up?

[Still sore from yesterday? He sure hopes so! C8]

Comments

[indispensible]

[Wistful sigh.]

If you happen to be there when someone breaks in, will you get it on camera?

[She thinks it will probably be a mistwraith and she wants to see it eat somebody.]

[outofclothes]

You know, I'm surprised you're not trying to get a front row seat with some popcorn.

[indispensible]

Other people's battles to ascension don't really interest me anymore. I just want to see what's going to come out.

[outofclothes]

And you don't think that's worth a front row seat?

[indispensible]

No.

[Apathy, thy name is currently Venture.]

Because once it comes out, it'll come to all of us in the end, I think. But I want to see its face when it sees freedom.

[From a place of safety - this goes unspoken. She does smile briefly, dimples flashing briefly to life. Even monsters deserve freedom.]

[outofclothes]

I never took you for such a romantic, Vin.

[indispensible]

I've always been a romantic. I just rarely have an outlet for it.

Wouldn't that be a fitting death, though? A monster to kill monsters.

[And maybe, just maybe, her smile is a little knowing here.]

[deadly_ned]

[To say the Piemaker is used to such entrances from his warden wouldn't be precisely true. He knew by now that Stark entered and exited whenever it pleased him, but to expect it was an impossibility; it was always a shock for the Piemaker to see that shadow coming through to form a full man.

It's been a rough few months. He doesn't sleep, he barely eats, and seems to cling to life out of sheer desperation that one day, possibly, things will get better.

But they never do.

When the shadows omit Stark, the Piemaker is sitting at his kitchen island, reading. In his hand he holds a wooden spoon, and the hand itself is gloved. In fact, both his arms seem to be in some sort of odd full-armed glove contraption, that hooks over his shoulder blades with a small padlock; a way to prevent him from touching wardens he may have been forced to bring back to life. There's little risk of an accidental touch when he can't expose the skin on his own hands.

But Stark's voice makes him nearly jump out of his skin and he immediately slams the book shut and jumps from the chair, to put as much distance between them. Wounds from yesterday catch up to him and before he's even up out of the chair his side seizes up and he grabs it, stumbling back against the wall]


...S-stark. How, ah.

How are...you?

I'm fine. Everything's fine.

[Everything was not fine, obvious from the bruising around his face that all inmates eventually grew to sport. But the Piemaker was desperate to appear as nonthreatening as humanly possible, and perhaps get off easy this time]

[outofclothes]

[Stark enjoys Ned's fear a lot more than he probably should. Usually, he loves it when people he doesn't like or some big, bad goons finally learn their place and start shitting their pants because they realize they're about to go up against Sandman Slim or Lucifer or whatever the fuck they wanna call him.]

[Ned is neither of those things. He's mostly a sad sack of shit. Which isn't nearly as much fun. But you gotta get your jollies when and where you can get them.]

Relax, Ned. This is just a social call.

[Stark holds up his hands to show he's not carrying anything. Not that it means much. He has enough Hellion hoodoo to put a hole in the side of the Barge if he really wanted.]

I know I went pretty hard on you last time and since I don't exactly have my father's talent at healing, I gotta be patient and give you time to recover.

[He's so nice. He knows.]

[Stark reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cigarettes and lighter.]

You mind?

[It's actually too bad if he does mind. Stark is going to light up anyway.]

[deadly_ned]

[Now that Stark is here and established, the Piemaker's fears begin to die down. Never evaporated, because he's still so obviously distressed the man is here, but the initial shock has dissipated somewhat.

He sinks down against the wall he's leaned against, still hugging his side. His expression becomes one of a haunted resignation; he's never much known Stark to be patient except when it suits him.

Still, he answers obediently and with a robotic-like undertone]

Thank you. I. I don't...deserve it.

[It hurts to stand up again, but he won't mention it. Stark won't care; rather, he'd take satisfaction from it. He looks away when the cigarette lights up, closing his eyes and drawing his knees up to his chest in an effort to make himself smaller, less noticeable a target. Being sad and miserable has become almost a defense mechanism; if he doesn't let the torment become fun for Stark, it's less and less likely it will happen.]

...can I. Do something for you?

[outofclothes]

[Ned's instincts are spot on. Stark is the least patient person you will ever meet. He's impulsive and rash most of the time. But sometimes he can be clever. And he's exceptionally dangerous when he's clever.]

[He stuffs his cigarettes and lighter back into his coat pocket before walking over and sitting down on the floor next to Ned.]

I think the real question is what can I do for you?

[He claps Ned on the knee.]

I know you've been missing Dugby. [Or was it Digby? Whatever.] Right?

[deadly_ned]

[His heart seems to race faster when Stark sits beside him. The Piemaker can't stand to be within touching distance of any person any longer, but he doesn't dare shift away. Instead, he sits almost rigorously still, hugging tight to his knees to calm his trembling. He's careful not to look at Stark, not wanting to get his hopes up. He's been played with before; showing an enthusiastic, desperate response is a surefire way to never get what he wants]

Digby.

I. No. I don't..miss him.

[This is a blatant lie. Even now, Digby's collar is housed in the Piemaker's apron pocket. His hand shifts down to grasp it tightly, his knuckles tightening under his glove]

He's only a dog.

[outofclothes]

[Stark can hear all those little things. The rise in Ned's heartbeat, the way his breathing hitches just so subtly when he tells a lie. Stark doesn't need to ask Ned what's in his pocket to know it's the dog's collar that he's gripping onto. He understands holding onto little totems like that of people and things you care about. He still has that stupid little box Alice used to prove she could do magic, too, before his first stint in Hell.]

[He doesn't spend as much time looking at it these days though. There's blessedly too much to do than to spend time moping over ex-girlfriends who used to be dead.]

Well that is excellent to hear, Ned. Best damn thing I've heard all week, actually.

[lastrat]

I'd settle for one of those cigarettes of yours.

[outofclothes]

Developed a taste for them, have you?

[lastrat]

All too quickly.

[outofclothes]

Well, I got a few cartons. You're in luck.

[lastrat]

What do you want for one?

[outofclothes]

You know, it sometimes amazes even me you've managed to last this long.

[Asking the devil what he wants for a carton of cigarettes, Bond. I mean really.]

Could always make you go start something with somebody. Or do something to yourself. The choices and possibilities really are infinite.

[mirabilis]

I'd like to see who can make it. [ Because she's far from interested in it herself - she's not really thought of it either ]

[outofclothes]

Well, if I get bored, you're more than welcome to my seat.

[mirabilis]

We can't wait together? It might be a more interesting way to pass the time.

[outofclothes]

Only if you promise to heckle the would-be Admirals.

[mirabilis]

I'm certain that I can manage a little of that.

[outofclothes]

Well then, pull up a chair.