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[Filtered from Vicious and Lin/Unhackable]
Would anyone happen to know if Lux has an open gig for an experienced musician?
[Backdated to late morning on 5/4, if you please. Unless otherwise noted, Julia's following comments are similarly filtered and unhackable. Action for Gren, in her apartment; the usual for anybody else.]
Would anyone happen to know if Lux has an open gig for an experienced musician?
[Backdated to late morning on 5/4, if you please. Unless otherwise noted, Julia's following comments are similarly filtered and unhackable. Action for Gren, in her apartment; the usual for anybody else.]
He was up most of the night -- vodka aside -- trying to come to terms with that. There are people who know him but don't really. They know a semblance of him. They've had some sort of relationship with someone that looks like him, acts like him, sounds like him ( ... )
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Her hand runs idly through her hair and then rests against the back of the couch, her elbow angled out.
"Vicious has a... henchman here. The last I heard, he'd been dismissed. But I'm not sure I expect that to last."
When Vicious feels betrayed, he doesn't do it by half. But even with that in mind, this place is new territory and he's starting on the same ground as everyone else.
She suspects he'll still keep Lin close.
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He doesn't turn away from the window when he speaks. "I didn't mean to. He jumped in front of Vicious, took the bullet for him." There's no irony lost on him; on Titan he would have done exactly the same thing. Vicious is the kind of person who inspires loyalty, misguided or not.
If only he could let go of the memory of Vicious's mocking words during that gunfight, though. His up to you, although... I was looking forward to seeing you personally hasn't stopped echoing in his brain since heard the words because they brought back so much stuff he didn't want to have to think about ever again. There's no one else like Vicious: so cold and beautiful, so heartless and... admirable. On Titan, he looked up to him and yet...
There is nothing to believe in. There's no need to believe.
The problem is this: he's never wanted to stop believing.
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"Was his name Lin? Dark hair, clean-cut? He's... young and polite and stiff. I knew him three years ago, but it wasn't very well." Shin was the one she knew better. "He's mentioned that he's dead, but I didn't know how."
She has it in her to feel for him under the circumstances -- Spike was right: he's still just a kid -- but she'd never drop her guard around him. Not even for a minute, and not even though she doesn't have the slightest fear of him.
Her arm finally lowers. "He's likeable, if you can overlook the minor detail of devotion to Vicious's causes."
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He turns to Julia, distraught. "I... I didn't even know his name. I'm not a murderer, Julia. Sure, they taught us to shoot to kill on Titan, but I was a foot soldier there. You fire at... sparks on the horizon, not at people. You peek out of a trench long enough to take a wild shot at a line of whatever's out there in the distance and retreat."
It's a delicate subject; Julia was with the Dragons and he knows exactly what that means. But he's never once thought of her as a killer. Or Vicious, for that matter, even though the years have taught him just how ruthless a man his former comrade can be. Why he didn't see it in Vicious at the time he... just has to chalk up to the stars in his eyes; sometimes people see exactly what they want to see and he was young when he went to Titan, and naive, and ill-equipped for what he encountered there ( ... )
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The transmitter they found in the music box was damning enough evidence about Vicious for both them. And even then, back on Callisto, she never once got the impression that Gren would've liked to kill him for it.
In a way it bothers her a little, but it's because she's never really wanted to, either. She hates Vicious for the ultimatum he gave her, she hates him for every scar Spike might have that he's responsible for, and she hates him for the way things happened to Gren. Shooting him is something she wouldn't hesitate to do if she felt she had to. She just... would prefer to continue not having to.
It's a personal issue, though, and not a moral one. Gren, she feels convinced, is a more virtuous person than she is when it comes right down to it.
Sitting forward, she reaches for the cigarettes she left on the coffee table. "I know."
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"What's Vicious like? Here, I mean."
Julia knows he had... feelings for Vicious, mixed as they were, misguided as they were. The photos on his wall were proof enough of that two years ago and the picture of the two of them on Titan -- that often ripped-apart and taped-back-together trench photo -- sitting in his sax case right now is further proof that all of his feelings are so unresolved. If Vicious inspires that in him after everything that happened, he can't fault Lin for being protective.
Yes, it was Lin's choice to take the bullet, but it doesn't erase the fact that he's the one who pulled the trigger with intent. He thinks back to long ago: Sunday school, Sister Mary Alice, he thinks, although they all looked alike in their stern black-and-white habits.
And ( ... )
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When she does turn to look at him, she doesn't make quite the usual effort to keep her walls up.
"If you catch him during the right curse, you can almost believe he still has feelings buried away."
In some ways, it's a warning. But it's also the truth, and it's shocked her in the moment and saddened her after the fact and unsettled her more often than she'd care to admit in the month that she's been here.
"If you don't," she goes on, her tone even, "he's fixated, cruel, and even less rational than he used to be."
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Not really, but it's as reasonable a thing as any to say. The smoke veils her face; he takes a moment to think how weird it is that he and Julia are friends. They met over a song, had a cup of coffee together, and found out they had a lot more in common than just the lilting strains of Goodnight, Julia.
It feels like it happened an impossibly long time ago. It feels like it was just yesterday. And again it's both and it's neither.
"Are we dead?" When he puts his fingers to his wrist, he's pretty sure he can feel the faintest of pulses beating there, but it might be wishful thinking.
"I know. I saved all the easy questions for last."
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It fades, but... slowly.
"If we aren't, we should be." She glances away, but after just a second she lets her eyes find his again. "But I still seem to do everything I always did. And I don't drink blood by night and don't shuffle around craving brains or flesh."
Which, as she's discovering here, is more possible than she'd have believed.
"Besides that, my survival instinct is as healthy as ever. When there's gunfire, I still take cover and draw if I haven't already."
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"Then it's a good thing I packed an extra pistol. I'll have to start carrying it all the time." In Blue Crow he didn't; his heavy sax case made for an effective weapon all by itself. In fact, he used it more than once.
He's very good at fending people off. Prison taught him how.
"And I guess what they say is true: misery loves company. We can be dead or not dead together. It's better than being stuck doing either one alone." There's a moment where he's absolutely flushed with gratitude for her, for everything she's done, for everything she's continuing to do: he's got such a fondness for her.
He always has.
"I wonder if I can still play." Gently, he tests that spot he bandaged yesterday: it doesn't really hurt and it hasn't bled any more.
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She almost doesn't want to interrupt his train of thought if it's going to lead to him satisfying himself that he can still play his saxophone as well as he always could -- she knows that'll be a comfort -- but... the curiosity tugs at her too strongly.
"Could... I ask you something first?"
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"You can ask me anything. Any time."
He means it, too: Julia's one of the few people for whom he'd stop and do anything.
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"How did you end up meeting Spike?"
Gren had a bounty on his head. It'd be quite a coincidence if Spike had tried to collect on that, but it's no bigger than the coincidence that led to her becoming friends with Gren.
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That.
As he gathers together the memories -- they're recent and really strong -- he lets his fingers form a steeple. There's something comforting in the motion, in the shape, and he studies it as he speaks.
"He was on Callisto looking for you." He's surprised Spike hasn't told her. Then again, maybe it was a long time ago for him. "We made a little bit of noise on the rooftop. Vicious planted a bomb in with the money for the red-eye... you do know about this, don't you?"
It isn't like he's had a chance to tell her, and she wasn't there.
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"He was looking for me?"
On Callisto? Within the past year? She... wouldn't have guessed. Did he hear that she'd been there? How did he find out?
"We haven't all been sharing stories since we got here," she tells him mildly, reaching for her ash tray and resting it on one of her folded legs. "But I've puzzled a few things out."
Maybe the biggest hint was the vial of red-eye that made an appearance last night. A red-eye deal was a good way to lure Vicious, but... she wishes he hadn't done it.
The worst case scenario obviously happened.
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