Incomplete.

Aug 12, 2010 01:42

Who: Giovanni [pseudism], Spike [7livesleft].
What: Giovanni owes Spike a visit and a "friendly" chat.
Where: The Task Force HQ, near the docks.
When: PREEEETTY BACKDATED. After the plane shift, but before the Magister's game began.

It's so late and I barely proofread this I'm so sorry. Will fix any issues tomorrow!

And it illustrates for me how very far I’ve come. It’s not just my body I am trying to keep warm. )

cb: spike spiegel, incomplete logs, dogs: giovanni

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pseudism October 5 2010, 21:32:48 UTC
Giovanni counted, watching over the edge and straight down the length of the corridor. All he could see was a dust of black hair and a sliver of his blue jacket, nothing worth firing at, no real target - but the fact that he's there, that's enough. There was no movement yet, no indication that he knew how close Giovanni might be. For the time being, he wasn't looking his way at all. And Giovanni, for his part, didn't make a single sound for a long time. Even his breath was silent.

It was a little different than usual. But they had to start communicating some time, didn't they - if Spike wanted this to go anywhere past him being shot outright, and if Giovanni wanted to get a better understanding of who he was actually up against. It wasn't necessary, precisely, not when he was just human, not when he was so easily killed and his strategies and motivations didn't really matter, but. Smoker had taken an interest in him. Smoker had cared about him, and relied on him, and considered him his most valued ally. And Giovanni realised, he didn't know why.

The question about his dog made him pause - distinctly remembering that sudden, sharp stab, that bang of pain sharper than a point blank gunshot straight though his skull, the loud and near-hysterical whimpers of the dog as it dragged its dead head, pawed at it like it had nothing to do with the rest of the Cerberus any more. All those eyes set on Smoker, and for a second he'd seen through them, for a second he'd known what it felt like to be both dead and alive at the same time, looking through those three skulls.

No Smoker, not any more. And so it all fell on Spike's shoulders, it all ended with him.

He moved into the corridor, and walked the length of it without a sound, didn't so much as say anything until his gun was already clicking up into position next to Spike's head, nudging the cold barrel up through that dark hair, and Giovanni stepped to where he could see him at his side. His familiar smile was there finally, familiar and thin and strange and looked at Spike, really looked at him. It was the first time he'd seen him properly in a while, not just at a distance, or smeared with his own blood while Giovanni embedded his foot in his face over and over. He'd almost forgotten.

The gun drifted from Spike's hair down to the space just behind his ear - a prime killing shot.

"You should worry about your own head."

Giovanni nudges his broken glasses up his nose with his free hand.

"You tried to protect yourself by covering the cat with your own body?... That's pointless, isn't it. But you already know that by now.

"... I'm thinking. Maybe I should have you drop your gun, and then let you have a head-start. What do you think?"

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7livesleft October 10 2010, 13:54:28 UTC
Pointless was a good word for it. Familiar. Spike realized he could have done more before he was out of options if he cared to. Everything happened because he let it and at that point he wasn't sure if he was awake or dreaming the whole confrontation; they'd become so similar that he couldn't remember what kind of skewed vision of his was reality.

Best not to think about it. Like that ever stopped him--

Anyone else might have tensed the moment they turned to see the barrel of a gun in their face; especially one held by someone who had a reputation of pulling the trigger. But as it turned out, you see it enough times and it takes out the thrill until all that's left is a joke without the punchline. Not a good one, in any case. What difference does it make if you put more holes in a dead man? Just another stain on the carpet.

This time he came with something new though. Spike didn't answer right away, but kept his gaze leveled on Giovanni with that lazy grin on his face, as if he didn't even see what he was pointing at his head. Must really be boring night out there.

The bounty hunter kept still and made no move to lower the gun. "Sorry, I can't do that. You'll have to shoot me."

First time he'd ever looked at Giovanni so closely. He'd never even seen his eyes. How old was he, anyway? Should have asked Heine. "--You should get new glasses. People might think you're crazy wearing those."

What else did he have to say? There was no plan, no trying to prolong it. Go ahead and take his chances.

See if he can wake him up.

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pseudism November 12 2010, 23:45:56 UTC
That left them at something of a standstill.

It would've been very easy to depress the trigger and spatter his brains all over the wall, make that long lanky body of his thud back into its own running juices and slump down lifeless (and maybe a little bit satisfying, too, because he hasn't really indulged it in a long time, not to the end like that, not to shoot something and actually kill -) but that wasn't the game he was trying to run, something Spike had probably already realised. And the kind of person who'd stand there unarmed and say 'kill me', that didn't interest in him in the slightest, that was off-putting and went against everything comfortable or fulfilling about what he's doing.

He should've known from before, watching the blood bloom out from his bullet, that Spike had a death wish. Even if it was just tempting fate, calling Giovanni's bluff, it was normally the sort of thing someone did when they had nothing to lose. It wasn't something he'd experienced in his own life - a person who can't die from a shot to the head doesn't have a death wish, and back when he was young, back when he knew the fear of death, he wanted nothing but to live.

But Nuadoria had helped fill in the blanks, little by little. The idea of being able to die, the idea of wanting to for whatever reason. But even then, even like that, there was that catch.

Spike could stand there and die because, as Giovanni never easily forgot, there was a safety net, a second chance at life, a way to return. They could break their fall, as long as they didn't do something stupid like get themselves killed in the Abode of Mist.

"I haven't found new ones, yet." Giovanni looked at Spike, looked at the casual little smile creeping across his face, and didn't move so much as to do any more than breathe. "That's all you have to say?... I don't know what you're expecting. But I don't have to shoot to kill."

He twitched the gun down slightly. Trained on Spike still, but on a less lethal point if he decided to shoot.

The possibility remained. If he shot him now, Spike would still live long enough to keep it interesting.

"Why did you join the Task Force?"

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