Emoting (Razvan, Deirdre, Abby, Unconscious!Peter)
There is no dignity in it Razvan decided. No dignity at all.
He was sitting in Peter's hospital room alone, with the exception of Peter, facing the comatose man with a nagging feeling in his gut. He thought it felt something like guilt or perhaps it was just unease. The obvious feeling that something was wrong with the world. Guilt seemed more prevalent. Razvan didn't like guilt. But he was guilt's bitch, whether he admitted it or not. But this...this was not his fault.
Here, lying unconscious in front of him, was a great man. Even if Razvan only admitted that reluctantly and then only to himself. No one else needed further proof that he was a pansy.
"It shouldn't have gone this way for you." Razvan said quietly. True, he had tortured Peter in the bunker at Fort Haven, which had recently been wiped off the map thanks to terrorists or whatever in the hell. And Razvan had had fun while he did it too. He had enjoyed working with his cousin Svetlana to bring the man pain. But he had enjoyed it so, because Peter was so strong. Breaking him was tantamount to climbing Mount Everest. Razvan certainly hadn't succeeded. And, for a while, it looked like Svetlana had. But then Peter had turned it around and Svetlana had become one of the sweetest people Peter had had the pleasure to know. Even if she was still a bit wacky in the head. It took a will of steel to take someone who had plagued you for fourteen years, harming your family and yourself, and help them become something better, just by loving them. And while Razvan didn't go in for foofy things like love and koombayah and all that crap, he could still see it for the impressive feat it was.
Even more than that, Peter still helped him. Razvan had spent his entire life thinking he was an angel, thanks to his angel father. But he had turned out to be a demon. His absent demon mother hadn't stuck around long enough to tell him how it would be. And when he had found out he was wrong, he had fallen hard into the wrath a demon almost inevitably falls into without someone there to stop them. Razvan had had no one. He had harmed and killed and he had even run Peter through twice with a sharp implement, piercing his heart. And when the then immortal Peter hadn't been killed, Razvan had tortured him. And still Peter gave him a chance when Razvan asked for one. If there was a saint alive, it was Peter fucking Kemp. Nothing had brought him down. Until this. Great men shouldn't nearly die in their kitchens in pools of their own bodily fluids. He has always seen Peter dying in a noble way, sacrificing himself for someone else. Nature and disease were so disgusting, and Razvan hated to see a man with such dignity suffer great indignity. "It really shouldn't have gone this way," he repeated, bowing his head then.
"What are you doing in here?" Abby asked gruffly from the doorway. Razvan looked up and he sneered at her.
"Morning, Herr Doktor." He said, his lips twisting into a cheeky grin.
"Haha, I'm a man. Funny." Abby responded flippantly, arching one graceful eyebrow of disapproval at him. "I asked you a question."
"I was visiting the chief here." Razvan pointed at Peter with his hat, which out of respect, was not on his head for once. "Are you tellin' me I can't be in here?"
"Was he actually alone?" Abby couldn't believe that Peter would be left alone for even a second so that someone like Razvan could sneak in here.
"No." Razvan shrugged. "Deirdre was in here, but I said I'd stay with him while she got a cuppa." Razvan shrugged. "I'm hardly gonna pull his plug or something, Love, this is his hospital. I think I'd get noticed."
"That's the only reason is it?" Abby narrowed her eyes at him.
Razvan was used to this and, in actual fact, he enjoyed the backing and forthing with Abby most of the time. He knew she thought he was a git, but that deep down, she was okay with him. And she knew that he was just acting tough because it was a defensive front. Neither of them drew attention to this, as it was hardly appropriate for them to be 'friends'. Still, under the circumstances, Razvan didn't feel like playing. "That man there would never keep anyone from his room and you know it." Razvan said slowly. Clearly. So Abby could see he was dead serious instead of just making weak excuses for being where he didn't belong. He did belong. They all belonged when it was Peter. "Peter wouldn't exclude anyone. No matter what they'd done. If they wanted to be here with him, watching him pull through, he'd want them here."
Abby watched Razvan for a moment longer and then she nodded. "Yes. He would." Peter was the only person who got along with a lot of demons in this hospital. He was the only one Darren didn't want to kill. Jillian seemed okay with him now. Caoilfhionn adored him. Samantha would do anything for him, though she wasn't in the hospital. And little Evan who never spoke a word to anyone else, would tell Peter stories of his childhood as long as no one else was listening. He had a way with them. Simply because, as Razvan said, he let them in. "You're right. I'll leave you alone."
"Cheers." Razvan flashed her a brief, sad smile, and then pretended he hadn't. The second she was gone, Razvan pulled his chair closer to Peter's bedside. "She's got a fine arse on her, that one has." Razvan said, marginalising her to make up for his uncharacteristic behaviour. That was better. He let out a breath of relief and he fiddled with his hat in his hands. "You're gonna be alright." Razvan informed him then. "Because if you don't pull through this, I'll mock your forever, you great pansy." He sighed then and stared at the floor. "I'm not done yet. Needing you. So just you wake up."
When Razvan looked up again, Deirdre was standing in the doorway, watching him quietly. She gave him a soft smile of understanding. She knew what it was like to rely on someone else to be your moral compass. Peter had saved Deirdre too. To his great relief, Deirdre didn't mention anything he had said, she just stepped forward and handed him a coffee.
"Tell me you slipped in a little of the good stuff?" Razvan said, desperately. Maybe alcohol would make him forget he was feeling all warm and fuzzy.
"I am Irish." Deirdre winked, and she sipped at her own very Irish coffee. "Drink up, Sharetime Bear."
Razvan grumbled, but he drank anyway, glad for the heady feeling of alcohol already infiltrating his system. Deirdre made the coffee very Irish. "Cheers." He muttered and then he glanced at Peter again. Maybe his situation now was undignified. But if anyone could rise above that, Peter Kemp could.
He was sitting in Peter's hospital room alone, with the exception of Peter, facing the comatose man with a nagging feeling in his gut. He thought it felt something like guilt or perhaps it was just unease. The obvious feeling that something was wrong with the world. Guilt seemed more prevalent. Razvan didn't like guilt. But he was guilt's bitch, whether he admitted it or not. But this...this was not his fault.
Here, lying unconscious in front of him, was a great man. Even if Razvan only admitted that reluctantly and then only to himself. No one else needed further proof that he was a pansy.
"It shouldn't have gone this way for you." Razvan said quietly. True, he had tortured Peter in the bunker at Fort Haven, which had recently been wiped off the map thanks to terrorists or whatever in the hell. And Razvan had had fun while he did it too. He had enjoyed working with his cousin Svetlana to bring the man pain. But he had enjoyed it so, because Peter was so strong. Breaking him was tantamount to climbing Mount Everest. Razvan certainly hadn't succeeded. And, for a while, it looked like Svetlana had. But then Peter had turned it around and Svetlana had become one of the sweetest people Peter had had the pleasure to know. Even if she was still a bit wacky in the head. It took a will of steel to take someone who had plagued you for fourteen years, harming your family and yourself, and help them become something better, just by loving them. And while Razvan didn't go in for foofy things like love and koombayah and all that crap, he could still see it for the impressive feat it was.
Even more than that, Peter still helped him. Razvan had spent his entire life thinking he was an angel, thanks to his angel father. But he had turned out to be a demon. His absent demon mother hadn't stuck around long enough to tell him how it would be. And when he had found out he was wrong, he had fallen hard into the wrath a demon almost inevitably falls into without someone there to stop them. Razvan had had no one. He had harmed and killed and he had even run Peter through twice with a sharp implement, piercing his heart. And when the then immortal Peter hadn't been killed, Razvan had tortured him. And still Peter gave him a chance when Razvan asked for one. If there was a saint alive, it was Peter fucking Kemp. Nothing had brought him down. Until this. Great men shouldn't nearly die in their kitchens in pools of their own bodily fluids. He has always seen Peter dying in a noble way, sacrificing himself for someone else. Nature and disease were so disgusting, and Razvan hated to see a man with such dignity suffer great indignity. "It really shouldn't have gone this way," he repeated, bowing his head then.
"What are you doing in here?" Abby asked gruffly from the doorway. Razvan looked up and he sneered at her.
"Morning, Herr Doktor." He said, his lips twisting into a cheeky grin.
"Haha, I'm a man. Funny." Abby responded flippantly, arching one graceful eyebrow of disapproval at him. "I asked you a question."
"I was visiting the chief here." Razvan pointed at Peter with his hat, which out of respect, was not on his head for once. "Are you tellin' me I can't be in here?"
"Was he actually alone?" Abby couldn't believe that Peter would be left alone for even a second so that someone like Razvan could sneak in here.
"No." Razvan shrugged. "Deirdre was in here, but I said I'd stay with him while she got a cuppa." Razvan shrugged. "I'm hardly gonna pull his plug or something, Love, this is his hospital. I think I'd get noticed."
"That's the only reason is it?" Abby narrowed her eyes at him.
Razvan was used to this and, in actual fact, he enjoyed the backing and forthing with Abby most of the time. He knew she thought he was a git, but that deep down, she was okay with him. And she knew that he was just acting tough because it was a defensive front. Neither of them drew attention to this, as it was hardly appropriate for them to be 'friends'. Still, under the circumstances, Razvan didn't feel like playing. "That man there would never keep anyone from his room and you know it." Razvan said slowly. Clearly. So Abby could see he was dead serious instead of just making weak excuses for being where he didn't belong. He did belong. They all belonged when it was Peter. "Peter wouldn't exclude anyone. No matter what they'd done. If they wanted to be here with him, watching him pull through, he'd want them here."
Abby watched Razvan for a moment longer and then she nodded. "Yes. He would." Peter was the only person who got along with a lot of demons in this hospital. He was the only one Darren didn't want to kill. Jillian seemed okay with him now. Caoilfhionn adored him. Samantha would do anything for him, though she wasn't in the hospital. And little Evan who never spoke a word to anyone else, would tell Peter stories of his childhood as long as no one else was listening. He had a way with them. Simply because, as Razvan said, he let them in. "You're right. I'll leave you alone."
"Cheers." Razvan flashed her a brief, sad smile, and then pretended he hadn't. The second she was gone, Razvan pulled his chair closer to Peter's bedside. "She's got a fine arse on her, that one has." Razvan said, marginalising her to make up for his uncharacteristic behaviour. That was better. He let out a breath of relief and he fiddled with his hat in his hands. "You're gonna be alright." Razvan informed him then. "Because if you don't pull through this, I'll mock your forever, you great pansy." He sighed then and stared at the floor. "I'm not done yet. Needing you. So just you wake up."
When Razvan looked up again, Deirdre was standing in the doorway, watching him quietly. She gave him a soft smile of understanding. She knew what it was like to rely on someone else to be your moral compass. Peter had saved Deirdre too. To his great relief, Deirdre didn't mention anything he had said, she just stepped forward and handed him a coffee.
"Tell me you slipped in a little of the good stuff?" Razvan said, desperately. Maybe alcohol would make him forget he was feeling all warm and fuzzy.
"I am Irish." Deirdre winked, and she sipped at her own very Irish coffee. "Drink up, Sharetime Bear."
Razvan grumbled, but he drank anyway, glad for the heady feeling of alcohol already infiltrating his system. Deirdre made the coffee very Irish. "Cheers." He muttered and then he glanced at Peter again. Maybe his situation now was undignified. But if anyone could rise above that, Peter Kemp could.