exsilium | ‡3rd Treasure‡ Accidental Video

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‡3rd Treasure‡ Accidental Video

[The feed clicks on to reveal Koltira and Chloe in some dark, nondescript alleyway. Chloe's muttering about how she doesn't have a choice, struggling weakly, her eyes unfocused. Koltira speaks to her in soothing tones--or about as soothing as his tone gets, at any rate--telling her to calm down, to see reason, et cetera. He has one arm looped around her waist, and the other holds both of her wrists still; the grip is clearly firm but gentle, meant to pacify, not to harm.

After a moment, Koltira notices that Chloe's dropped tablet is on and recording. He addresses it, his tone markedly more agitated than just a moment ago.]

Chloe is out of her mind. I know not why, but she had her own gun to her mouth.

[There's a short delay before Chloe speaks up, her voice unsteady and tired. It's a pale attempt at lying, but it goes without saying that she's embarrassed once she realizes the feed's running, so she makes it regardless.]

Seriously, mate, I'm fine. Ease up.

((ooc: Takes place after/during this log!)

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[He's angry, but not vindictive - certainly not angry enough to ignore a broadcast from Chloe's netbook given the shit storm they've stepped in. But for a moment he's not really sure what he's looking at - the lighting isn't great, the netbook's on the ground, and--

--and that looks like some kind of spooky supernatural creature assaulting Chloe in the dark. Luckily (arguable), Koltira addresses the broadcast feed directly before can Charlie put his foot in his mouth.

What he says is enough to get Charlie on his feet, scrabbling for his jacket with every intention of leaving his apartment and going-- he doesn't have any clue where she is.]

You don't sound bloody 'fine.' [And oh, he can't keep that bite out of his voice.]

[As if the realization of what she'd just attempted to do (and then subsequently have broadcast over the net) wasn't humbling enough, the growl in Charlie's voice certainly is. And to think, she'd been planning for them to talk tonight, but certainly not like this.]

Well I am now, all right? [Couldn't sound any more defensive if she tried.]

[He stops near the door of his apartment, one shoe on and one off. Shit, bollocks, damn. He struggles to jam his foot in it without putting his netbook down - maybe hops a little indignantly to do it. The video swings around wildly, more a clear view of the apartment ceiling than anything else.

But Charlie's voice is clear as day and ready to cut:]

Really? Dungeons and Dragons over there says you tried to blow your brains out and you're just going to insist that you're all right now?

Jesus, Charlie. I am, aren't I? Still breathing, still listening to you carry on like you know so damn much.

[Oh, that was harsher than she meant it, but damn if she isn't fighting a surge of anger that's meant for herself for faltering, now aimed at Cutter instead.]

[The netbook corrects, the camera snapping back from the ceiling around to his face. And he looks--]

Where are you? [His voice is very flat. It barely constitutes a question.]

[There's the faintest twitch in her expression, she know's she's made things worse, but it's a little too late to go feeling sorry for it.]

Just off the market. On the street headed towards the complex.

[The barest pause. He is holding the netbook in both hands and god, is it ever steady as hell now.]

I won't come if you don't want me to.

[The answer should be simple enough. Hell, it is simple: she wants him there. But saying it isn't easy, and she feels the old urge to turn tail and run tugging away at the back of her mind.

So after a very, very drawn out pause, she finally manages to mutter]

Well I wouldn't say no.

[Good enough.]

Right. Don't go anywhere. [There's a beat and then he ends the video. Standing in the empty apartment, Charlie presses the heel of his hand against his eye.] Shit.

[And he pulls his jacket on and puts his shoe on right. He folds the netbook and stuffs it inside his jacket because if he's holding it, he'll just bend it back and forth until the lcd gives out, future tech engineering be damned.

It takes longer than he'd like to make his way through the housing complex and the market - longer than he'd like to pick through the street still raked over with debris from the bombings -, but eventually he finds the right stretch of road and finds her.]

[The scene is very much untouched. Broken bottles line the sidewalk just before the alley where she's huddled against the wall with her knees curled up towards her chest and her head set against the palm of her right hand. The defender's still sitting a few feet away; she hasn't bothered to touch it, she's fought herself not to go near it, though the urge to hold it in her hand is still exceedingly tempting. It's a miserable sight, and she knows it, and the thought only makes her sink that much lower against the dirty brick wall behind her.

How could she possibly want him to see her like this?]

[He almost walks right past the alley and has to back peddle when he realizes what he's done. She's small. Easy to miss.

To his credit, Charlie doesn't pause at the mouth of the alleyway (though he doesn't exactly barrel down to her either). He's slow about it: runs his hand against the wall in the dark and only stops to pick up the gun from where it was tossed. He weighs it in his hand, checks the safety, then puts it in his belt against the small of his back. When he gets to her, he doesn't bend down - stands right next to her, the toe of his boot nearly touching the side of her foot.

He'd planned to be angry. Fuck's sake, he was angry the whole way here.]

All right, bright eyes?

Oh, sure. [She doesn't glance up, keeps her eyes set on his hands, or the wall across the way, or the slick pavement beneath them both.]

Just bloody fantastic.

Yeah, you look it. [It could be a cruel thing to say - and maybe is anyway - but by his tone he doesn't really mean it that way.

And isn't it nice how you plan to say forty thousand things to someone, but then it all dries up when push comes to shove? His knees groan a little as he sits down next to her, careful not to drag his jacket on the brick. He balances his forearms across the points of his knees, soles of his shoes scraping on loose gravel and bits of pavement.]

Charming as ever. [The average person might want to find comfort in closeness, but Chloe-- Chloe finds comfort in solitude when it all crumbles to dust in her hands. She's learned what it means to let someone else in, but habits, especially in a situation as piss poor as this, are the things that tug at her more than anything else.

She leans just barely away from him once he's settled in beside her.]

Bought you a drink, by the way.

Edited 2012-10-13 11:44 (UTC)

I do try here and there. [He spreads his hands just slightly and either doesn't note or at least doesn't comment on the way she shifts away from him by a matter of degrees.

Surveying the broken bottles strewn across the alley, Charlie makes a low noise. Ah. He tries to be tactful, generally fails, but at least manages to keep his voice gentle. Careful. The last thing he wants to do is spook her: send her slipping off down the alley with some full bullshit excuse as to why she gets to bolt.] Seems a touch counter intuitive - buying me a drink and then trying to pop off before delivering it.

[She rakes her fingers through her hair (missing its usual tie at this point, probably somewhere among the broken glass) and lets out a weary little laugh as he makes a remarkably good point.]

God, it does, doesn't it? [But her smile fades a bit as something about that doesn't sit quite right, though it's slipped through her fingers a split second later.]

Nice to see you managed to get both shoes on.

Ah, yeah well-- [He scuffs his foot back and forth on the pavement, maybe just a hair sheepish or maybe just pretending to be because it's-- it's easier. Because he can't bring himself to do more, say more. Not about the gun at his back and not about how he's-- not sorry. He's not sorry. Not for what he meant, but maybe for what he said.

Instead he fumbles absently with his hands: picks at his nails and runs his fingers over the scars on his knuckles.] I don't know about you love, but sitting on the street isn't doing much for my arse.

[There's a bit of obvious tension in her muscles, her expression, as he starts to make the suggestion of moving elsewhere. Pressing a thumb over the pressure point of her opposite hand, she weighs it all in her head. Indoors, right now, only conjures up the image of captivity versus freedom.

Probably thanks to the echoes of Talbot's instructions that haven't quite worn off yet.]

...what did you have in mind?

See that would require that I'd thought that far ahead. Maybe we just start with not sitting... here. [Because Christ, the smell of alcohol and mildew and rot is heavy in the air and even if it wasn't, he'd prefer being anywhere but here. He kind of just wants to get her off the ground, get her walking. Get her the hell away from this alley.

Edited 2012-10-13 12:39 (UTC)

[And it sounds safe enough (and knowing Charlie, it's not a lie) so she nods just before moving to her feet for the first time since she'd nearly-- well, you know.]

One of these days you not having a plan is going to backfire.

[A beat]

More than it has already, anyway.

I have plenty of plans, thank you. [He pushes himself to his feet and shrugs his jacket back into place on his shoulders, brushes the grit of the pavement off his ass.] But maybe not for this, no.

[But how about we not linger on that topic, thanks much.]

[Chloe casts a quick glance over to the elf still settled nearby, rubbing at her arms to get a bit of warmth back in them now that she's up and moving again.]

Care to join us, mate?

[this guy called him 'Dungeons and Dragons', so he's not favorably inclined. He just shrugs.]

Where do you intend to go?

Haven't the slightest. [Which is true, albeit more than a little purposefully vague. But still, more than a little unfair and he knows it; it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that if it wasn't for Silmarillion here, things would have gone drastically differently.]

Just, wherever it is, not too much of a crowd, all right? Not really at my best here.

[And-- right, manners. Those help.] Before I forget. Koltira, Charlie-- Charlie, Koltira.

You can sort out the details on your own, I'm not going to bother with it at the moment.

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