(Untitled)

[oldserpent]

The sleep thing kept catching me off guard, the first few times. Not the dreams, mind you, but the whizbang firecracker process itself - losing hours of New Time in the blink of an eye. And let me tell you, it staggers when you’re not quite expecting it, the waking up part. Which is why, before I opened my eyes, I didn’t notice much was off the

Comments

[misscroft]

Lara had never seen James Bond in such a state before, which was probably why she didn't approach him straight away - merely stood around the corner of the duty free shop and watched as he...

What the hell was he doing? Smashing his face on the floor, groping himself, shouting at the sky...why, if the Lady Croft didn't know better, she'd think the gentleman spy had finally flipped his lid and gone completely bonkers.

But there had to be a more rational explanation than that. Bond was made of harder stuff - she knew that firsthand - than to behave in such a manner. In public, anyway. So it was with amusement and a slight feeling of trepidation that Lara stepped out from around the corner and approached the smoking man.

"Smoking is bad for your health, you know."

[oldserpent]

'So is breathing,' I replied cryptically, without so much as a glance toward the voice. At first.

I'd become rather intrigued by the pattern in which the blood from my nose dribbled down my chin and splattered on the tile at my feet. (I don't think there's anything quite like the colour of blood. Whether it was his intention or not - but of course it was - the Old Man had sculpted violence into a thing of beauty.)

I suppose it was inevitable that the flow began to ebb and my entertainment dissolved. At this point, I looked up, a tad lightheaded as I pulled a lungful of tobacco smoke into my lungs.

Well I'll be, it's Angie Jolie.

I plucked the Silk Cut from between my lips, looking the woman over.

'Little by little, oxygen breaks down your body. Ages it, y'know.' Exhale. 'I'm just taking a bit of a shortcut.'

[misscroft]

Lara quirked an eyebrow.

He wasn't Bond. She knew it even before he spoke. Besides the smoking, she was fairly sure Bond wouldn't let half his body fluids drip out of his nose, however messy he was.

He wasn't Alex West, either. Lara wasn't sure whether she was disappointed by that or not.

How many faces did this actor wear, she wondered?

"I suppose it's a pity one can't actually get 'high on life'," she murmured drolly, and reached into her pocket, delicately withdrawing a lace handkerchief. "I'm Lara," she said as she extended it towards him.

[oldserpent]

It was then that I noted with some perturbation that I couldn't touch her mind. The eyebrow-quirk was what had done it - the wheels were turning, and I was deaf to the grind.

Oh dear. Fucking Gabriel was going to get an earful.

But I held my composure well (for a celestial being made solid, standing with an unhealthy portion of his life's blood stuck to his face in odd places) and focused instead on the absurdity of her introduction.

See, I know Angelina Jolie. I like her. And I've placed my fair share of whispers in the girl's ear. She may have had her quirks, but loony she was not.

'I beg to differ. Have you ever sniffed the pad of a dog's foot? Been to a garden?' I gave up a blissful smile before I felt a sneeze coming on and quickly reached out for the proffered hanky.

[misscroft]

"...Not recently," said Lara, staring at him.

It was unfortunate, she reflected, that one of the men who shared the face of her ex-lover was James Bond, and the other appeared to be quite insane.

"Who are you?" she asked, without any more preamble.

[oldserpent]

See what I mean? You see what I'm always on about? I couldn't believe, when I first slipped into Gunn, that the glistening pornucopia of perception backed by my fleshly senses was something you all experience day to day. I mean, you're so fucking nonchalant about it.

But I digress.

'I'm the Devil,' I answered nasally as I saw to my injured nose. 'Pleased t'meetchya.'

[misscroft]

Well, wasn't that delightfully ironic? If he was telling the truth, of course.

Yet more proof that the Bible was fiction.

"I suppose you don't meet many people who believe you when you introduce yourself like that, do you?" And Lara grinned at him.

[oldserpent]

I recalled Harriet then, poor old girl, and her blatant neutrality toward my celestial origins, glamourous mind tricks or no. (Not that it put a wrench in her edifying my first sexual encounter with the occasional, groin-tingling utterance of Oh my angel master, fuck me... in the course of our coupling.)

'Should they?' I finished emptying the gory contents of my nose onto the handkerchief, giving the tortured thing a shake before glancing back to...Lara? 'Acknowledging my identity necessitates acknowledging my existence. Not many of you really feel like going to Hell, now do you?'

[misscroft]

Lara, who was smirking as if she knew something he didn't - strictly speaking, she probably did - shook her head. "You'd be surprised. Some of us happen to think this place is hell. There's no way to leave, you see. For any of us."

[oldserpent]

'Uh-uh. Take it from a guy who lives there,' I said, flicking what was left of the blood-spattered fag onto the ground and stamping it out. 'Hell is cozy. You won't find hellhounds whetting their chops on any...moulded plastic.' I sent the row of chairs nearest my collision point with the ground a pitying stare, curling the upper lip for good measure.

[misscroft]

"Good to know," Lara said dryly, eyeing him. Whether he actually was the Devil or just merely insane was incidental; either way she was quite amused by the whole predicament.

And she couldn't wait to tell Bond.

[oldserpent]

'Why?' I asked, and just then I experienced the tiniest twinge of playfulness in spite of myself. (After peering around awkwardly for a moment, I tucked the stained 'kerchief into my jean pocket.) 'Planning on making the trip, Miss...Croft, is it? I'm terribly sorry for not recognizing you, but I don't deal in the temptation of fictional souls. Not exceptionally profitable, that.'

A very small white lie, of course. Honestly: what the ruddy hell am I supposed to do with all the souls I've purchased over the millennia? But ah, there's no moment quite so titillating as that in which one of you condemns Himself and eternity for sinful excess on Earth. A sticky loogie in the Big Guy's eye, every time.

[misscroft]

For the first time since discovering that fateful magazine article, Lara found herself actually glad about it - for it meant she was completely unfazed by this man who claimed to be the Devil knowing her name.

"Then we'll all rest soundly in our beds tonight, secure in the knowledge that most of us aren't profitable enough to be tempted," Lara replied smoothly. "Fortunately, I know who I am. I doubt you can say the same. You don't actually know whose face it is you're wearing, do you?" And she smirked at him.

[oldserpent]

'I was wondering that myself, now that you mention it,' I came back brightly. 'Do you know him? No? Then I hardly see how it matters what I look like here.' Gunn's unfortunate-looking mug hadn't put much of a damper on my fun, blowjobs taken in front of the mirror notwithstanding.

'Oh, but if you do...please, tell.' I might have inched a bit closer.

[misscroft]

"I think it would be much more fun if I let you find out for yourself," Lara responded, near-playfully. She did not back down. "Don't you?"

[oldserpent]

Mm, she was playing the game. Now I have to admit, her resistance was turning me on.

'How do you suggest I go about it?' I asked, slanting my toes to continue around the existence-challenged bombshell in an ever-tightening circle. 'Is it an acquaintance of yours? A friend? A lover, perhaps?' At this point, I stopped near her shoulder and tipped my head back at an uncomfortable (but necessarily frivolous) angle to catch her gaze. 'C'mon. Just a little hint.'