INCOMPLETE.

[albedineity]

Who: Heine Rammsteiner (albedineity), Smoker (brandedjustice).
What: Bawwwwwww. Smoker wants to know about Giovanni. How cute. :')
Where: Smoker's office.
When: NOW? IDK.

Comments

[brandedjustice]

Plunk.Smoker's fingers touched the surface of smooth stone, adjusting it, cementing it. Then, he released his grip and waited to see if it would stay or not. Thankfully, the tower held firm and he moved on, grabbing a fifth rock from the table. He paused and his brows furrowed. Then, they faded, drifting off into wisps of smoke. He had lost half of himself to his abilities since he begun the exercise in patience, but it didn't bother him much. He'd recall the logia when the time was right and fuck anyone who had a problem with the over abundance of smoke anyway

[albedineity]

For a second, Heine didn't do anything, and if it weren't for the careful clenching and unclenching of his jaw, for the tick of the muscle in his cheek, one might have assumed that he probably hadn't even been listening to Smoker's command. But a second or two later, he was relaxing, and then moving forward with the slow experience of a man who had no idea what the fuck to expect out of the situation he currently found himself in. And normally, he wasn't even like this, didn't think twice before he did anything, but this was different because this guy knew Giovanni.

And Heine tried to refrain from trusting Giovanni or anyone that happened to be associated with him. It might have had something to do with his paranoia, or it might have had something to do with the fact that anyone who enjoyed Giovanni's company were probably pretty fucking messed up to begin with

[brandedjustice]

After a good few minutes, Smoker peeled his eyes opened and flicked the ash from the tips of his cigars into a tray that was practically engulfing one corner of the table with the amount of buds and other such left overs crammed inside its tight barriers. The Commodore really didn't pay it much mibd though, since he just kept adding to the pile

lmfao epic reply, TWO COMMENTS SRY

[albedineity]

He wanted the whole story, then? Fucking perfect. Heine bit back a scowl and kept his expression blank, passive, calm.

It wouldn't have been a problem, really, if it had been anyone else telling him shit, but it was Heine, and Heine was involved in all of it. Heine was the reason why Giovanni was the way he was. Heine was the reason for a lot of shit, and he knew it was his fault, didn't deny that for one fucking second, but it didn't mean that he liked to think about it, either. Too many bad memories, and too much time spent away from shit he tried to avoid, in fear of setting off that time bomb within him that ticked slowly, carefully. Waiting for its chance to go off, to release the snarling dog within, and then

[albedineity]

"Anyway. Back when we were still in the Underground, I was their fucking star pupil or whatever. I was the one who hadn't been fucked up completely, except one day--"

His stomach tightened into knots.

"One day, something goes wrong, yeah? Something snaps, and I fucking lose it, and I kill everyone in the facility."

Tightened into knots, and Heine had to pause again, had to stop for a second, because he felt fucking sick.

"Except for Giovanni. He was the only one I tore through that managed to make it out alive." Pause. "It fucked him up pretty good, though. He was kind of quiet before, but. After that, he was different, and now. Now the only thing he really gives a shit about is stalking me, and about some--I don't know, about some psycho bitch that made us into what we are."

His chin jutted down toward his chest, and he replaced the bandages around his throat, carefully wrapping them into their place around the gleaming silver of the collar.

"And that's it."

[brandedjustice]

Smoker's eyes sealed shut as he listened. He heard the words, heard the venom in Heine's voice, but his unshakable exterior stood firm. Like a wall, he sat, inhaling every once in a while on his cigars. Smoke poured from him, but whether that was due to the addiction or his own brand of freakish tendencies was up for debate

[albedineity]

Heine wasn't the type to typically touch alcohol, wasn't really the type to touch much of anything that had the chance of altering his state of mind (unless, of course, Badou managed to persuade him to), and for a second, he sat stiffly, elbow resting on the arm of his chair as he regarded Smoker as Smoker stared back. His fingers smoothed over the bandages, before drifting up the side of his face, brushing strands of white from his forehead, and then his hand was moving away, was dropping down to the desk to close around the cap

[brandedjustice]

"You still have trial, but we'll work off of that argument. It'll do well in court and it'll keep Karma from throwing a fit. But don't think I've forgotten that you risked innocent lives because of your bullshit, Heine." The cigars rolled to the other side of his mouth. "You put everyone, including that little girl, at risk. Think about that next time you want to fuck around; I'm sure you can find a pretty lady to get your rocks off in another fashion that does not include harming people and getting our hosts pissed off

[albedineity]

Heine observed him carefully.

That was all fine, he figured. The trial part -- well, that he wasn't entirely getting, and part of him was still pretty sure that it was fucking retarded (but then, they didn't have that sort of thing back where he came from, did they?), but he didn't open his mouth to object, all the same. Whatever they wanted him to do for the shit he'd done, he'd do it. Didn't really mean he was sorry, because no, the only thing he was sorry about was that he'd gotten caught, and that all this shit had had a significant impact on Nill. He frowned lightly at the thought of her, distracted for a second or two, before he turned to look back on Smoker, before he narrowed back in on all that he was saying.

Yeah. Fine. He could deal with all of that. Whatever. As long as it got him out of there fucking quicker, and as long as he didn't spend weeks away from Nill, that was fine. He could deal with that.

Though--

"When will I get to go back to Nill?"

[brandedjustice]

Smoker extended three fingers as he grabbed the handle to the bottle of rum. Without the cap on it, it was placed on the floor and the Commodore slowly peeled himself from his chair.

"Three days. Tomorrow, we'll talk to the lawyers. The next day, we'll put you through trial. Nothing formal, more of me verses the men and women in suits. I'll put through the evidence I've collected, gather the reports and get everything straight. You'll sit down, shut your mouth and make nice with Karma." He shoved a hand into his jacket and grunted.

"Then, you'll go home to Nill and you'll get the fuck out of my face for the remainder of our stay here." Though his words were harsh, there was some sort of warmth in the Commodore's voice. Like a father reprimanding a child, like a drill sergeant spitting venom back at a young cadet - brash, but heavy with something that wasn't even close to loathing.

He didn't hate Heine. He didn't hate many people here; he just hated the headaches that they gave him on a daily basis.

[albedineity]

All right, then.

He nodded slowly, and his fingers uncurled away from his palm, flattened against his knee as he stood the exact moment the other did. His muscles stretched as he straightened, as he turned to face the taller man. Three days? That wasn't bad, all things considered. He had blown up a library and unleashed all of hell onto Nuadoria, after all, so three days was perfectly fucking fine with him.

"All right."

Typical response, default response, indifferent and almost emotionless, almost mechanic, though it was more than most people tended to get from him. With most people, all they got were a cold stare, and if Heine was feeling particularly moody, a possible punch in the face.

But right then, he stood quiet, relaxed, waiting to be dismissed -- or escorted back out. He wasn't exactly sure how the hell all that shit worked here.

[brandedjustice]

No cuffs to seal Heine's fate, so Smoker was left doing it himself. He grunted and slipped to the other's side, eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't enjoy this; usually, he had supplies, he had a brig and he had enough men running around that dealt with easy-processed criminals like Heine. So, he was left pausing for a moment before his smoke stretched out again and gently ringed around Heine's wrists.

"Can you move your arms back for me, or do we have to make a scene?" The Commodore sounded labored, tired and it was all done purposely. If he could give Heine an inch, he expected an inch in return. And if the boy didn't give him that well-needed space, his jitte was just waiting an arm's length away.

[albedineity]

For the first time that night, Heine's carefully groomed reserve broke. For just half a second, really, and red eyes flashed dangerously as the snarl almost tore through his throat before he was swallowing it back down, before he was reminding himself that it was fine, it was okay, wasn't like the fucking bastard was gonna cuff him and then toss him to Giovanni. Relax, Heine, and he did, let his shoulders drop back down as he turned, as he moved his hands to position them behind his back. He should have been expecting it, but it didn't mean that he liked it any. Already had a collar around his neck, after all, already had all this other shit on him that he couldn't get off, and it wasn't like he needed one more thing to fucking tear at.

But it was fine.

His eyes fixed on the door, on the frame surrounding it, and his chest caved as he let out of a low, soft sigh. Nill was hopefully in someone else's custody now -- someone who would preferably keep a close eye on her, because he knew how much trouble she tended to get into. Part of

[brandedjustice]

Laying a palm against Heine's back, Smoker pushed him forward, guiding him with both flesh and logia into the corridor. They had a make-shift cell now, left behind by some sort of construction. There were only a few bars, a few locks, but it had worked and it would remain so until a proper holding dock could be fitted into the building's skeletal structure. Until then, though, they just had to make due

[albedineity]

Heine went easily enough, rolling one shoulder slightly at the hand on his back (because when did he like anyone touching him ever?), but he moved forward, regardless. He was as silent as smoker was on the way to the holding cell, dark eyes trailing over the walls as they went, as their shoes scuffled quietly over the ground beneath them. Even through the dark, he could see as well as he could in the day -- almost better, really -- and even with his hands held carefully behind his back, he moved with the same rough and uneven grace that he always did

[brandedjustice]

Smoker loomed in the door frame and twisted in his fingers around his lips and his cigars. He watched Heine for a long while, studying him, studying his neck in particular. Then, he released strands of silver through his nostrils and extended a gloved digit.

"If I were feeling different, I would demand to take a look at it but-" He breathed, growling at the edges of the released air. "-I respect the privacy. I just have to know whether or not the issue is going to become something of a problem in the near future with your humble friend, Giovanni."

Blue-gray eyes screwed shut and Smoker nonchalantly shoved his companion inside before snapping the bars shut after him. "If you're feeling up to it, you can show me. But I'm not going to force you - that isn't how my ship is maintained."

He backtracked. "-force is maintained."