[Heading back out]
[Late enough to worry]
"Yeah." Dorian pulls himself up and I lean into him, arms light 'round him until I need to pull back enough to get to my feet. "We should go." And then he's adding "You don't have to go with me. You know that," and I realize he's talking about that we, not our we.
"I won't hurt him," and I think he
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Comments 49
"Don't apologize." It's lower this time and I hope it's gentler. "Go change."
Glass goes back into the bedroom and there's just silence left if I ignore gagging sounds from the floor. "Proč se mě nezabiješ?" And I don't know what to say. I follow her into the bedroom.
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I need to start planning my nights better. Clearly. Go to a better class of club.
They probably wouldn't let me in.
Sitting down to take them off and give Dorian kind of an apologetic look as he comes to the door. "There have been better nights," and then I look down, run my hand through my hair. "I missed you. It's good to see you."
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"I missed you, too." I feel awkward, this feels awkward, sitting on the bed beside her. "We should talk now." Look at her. "If you want to."
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"I..." Put one arm 'round him, and lean my head on his shoulder, forehead against the side of his neck. "You said we needed to," and it's a quiet sort of thing to say, like I think it might snow. I missed the smell of him, and I'm suddenly wishing I could curl up and sleep, but... "How long can you stay?"
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I'm still drunk. The room is still spinning, slowly, when I close my eyes. But I'm sobering. It's a horrifying feeling, to slowly realize where you are when it's handcuffed and lying on a bathroom floor. Ignored or forgotten and alone.
I'm alone.
I don't know how long it lasts. It feels longer than it is, I think. I think of the woman, lying idiot whore for a dog, and I think of my mother, too. I think of the look on Berzin's face before I pulled the trigger, and I think of Victor laughing when I told him I'd be home soon. But mostly I think of how unfair it is, that he's out there and I'm in here.
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"What," softly, just standing there with my sweater still caught up around my arms, and looking at him. It's not very loud, I don't think I could be very loud at all right now. I feel very soft, somehow.
"I make sure no one bothers the girls."
"Oh." Pause for a second, and then finish pulling my sweater on and down. Feel a little chilly, somehow, and put my heels back in the closet, pick up a second sweater. My boots are by the door; I'm fine to go, I think. "You-- what, you work there?" No. I guess not, but there's some hoping, I guess, there's...
Such a civilian.
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"No." I pause, thinking, before explaining. "I just make sure people know they are protected." I wish I knew what else to say. "They try to give me money, sometimes, but I don't take it." Or at least that I knew why this feels so odd. "It's a nice place." If that's what she's worried about. "We'll put Oscar in Maria's room."
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"Why not?" It's an odd feeling now, curiousity coming on a little stronger. Not enough to drown out that anxious knot in my stomach, but it's something else to think about.
"It's a nice place. We'll put Oscar in Maria's room."
"Who," and I realize I don't care, shake my head and push that part away. "Wasn't worried if it was nice. Was worried if they'd be able to manage him." I called you, after all.
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The loading dock is empty except for a stray rummaging around the dumpster and, after I double-check the blade on my back, I walk around to open Glass's door. "There is a pizza place a few blocks away," I say, because it keeps my mind off of Oscar, Maria, everything I have to deal with and everything I'd rather not.
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"There is a pizza place a few blocks away," all cool and formal, and I nod.
"Alright," and I'm not exactly smiling, but... I want to say We'll figure it out, and I imagine that's sort of pointless. Touch his arm as he shuts the car door, and I want to touch his face, and instead I push my hair back and open the back door of the car for Oscar. Keep it between us, standing far enough back of its arc that he can't kick it into me. And I remember sitting in the back of his car, and--
"Do you need help getting out?" Distant and almost polite. Imagine the suggestion that he would need it might hurt his feelings, and I find I have too much on my mind to care right now.
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Stand there for a moment, listening to the sound of his steps moving away--they're easy to pick out, somehow, very measured--and just look at Oscar. Jesus Christ, all I wanted was a quiet night out...
Well, never mind that. Sigh and rake a hand back through my hair, and turn the chair around to face the bed, take a moment to make sure it's not too close and move it back a little anyway before I sit down.
"Well," after a moment, and I light a cigarette, "I don't think either of us planned on this. Are you going to be sick again?"
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