Characters: Batou and Erol
Location: Batou's room and Carnival
Date: Late night
Rating: R for violence probably
Erol snarled and paced at a quick march, driven by something he always felt (which had gotten worse in the past two years), but never so keenly as when all his distractions were removed. There really was little crueler that could be done to
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"You've GOT to be kidding me," he growled. Out, yes, GOD he wanted out. He'd been wanting to see this Carnival place for a while, and he wanted to kill things so badly it hurt. But on a - his eyes flicked back and forth between Batou and the object he'd dropped several times before he figured it out, unwilling to take his eyes off his captor for any length of time - a leash??
What the fuck did he take him for. Batou was fooling himself if he thought Erol would go quietly, and the Commander shifted his pacing track further away from the bars so he couldn't be grabbed. (At least, he was pretty sure. Batou's arms were long but they were also thick.)
To come get him, he'd have to open the door. Erol eyed the cage's singular entrance hungrily. The smart thing to do would be to lure Batou in so he had room to maneuver around the cyborg, but he wasn't certain he had enough self-control not to try to make a break for it the second it was open.
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Batou wandered over to his desk and picked up another novel he was reading: The Garlic Ballads by Chinese author Mo Yan. Batou picked it up and leafed to the page he'd left off at, then began to read standing. It was a familiar pose, as his legs would never become tired, and so Batou only sat down to read when he cared about appearances. He didn't care now, and so he was prepared to stand, motionless save for the turning of pages, for hours.
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A chance to kill...
No. NO. He had his fucking pride. He wouldn't -
need BLOOD need DEATH need it need it NEED IT
"FINE!!!" he exploded, lunging at the bars and hitting them angrily, ending the movement by gripping the bars. "Make it. Fucking. Quick. Before I fucking change my mind. Again."
Tense as a violin string, he glared at Batou with palpable hatred and frustration, breathing hard as if the struggle with himself to let Batou restrain him had been physically strenuous.
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