03. have you heard the news, that you're dead?

[hartmanhips]

[her first thought is that she's in heaven. It would make sense, wouldn't it? The sun is shining, the birds are singing. It's just like another day in Whispering Rocks camp, and she's hoping that this is a sign that God has forgiven her for all her wrongs and misdeeds.

Then she wakes up. And sees that she's in the same room that she was first

Comments

[never_any_doubt]

Ah. Bonjour, Madame. Eet seems you did a better job of me zhan surviving, despite my previous assumptions about you. Welcome back.

[Ohoho, is that bit of respect there, or is that just him being sarcastic like usual?]

[hartmanhips]

[she hears that smarmy French accent and despite him being replacement!Sasha, there's quite a bit of snap as she retorts]

You're a SPY, you're not supposed to get yourself killed before me, you FROG, you WORRIED ME...

[never_any_doubt]

[He bristles on the other end of the line. He was actually making an effort to be slightly less made of dick than usual!]

Ah, pardonnez-moi, Madame. I will make every effort to consult with you zhe next time someone is trying to seperate my face from my body with an axe.

[hartmanhips]

[what's that sound you hear? IT'S THE SOUND OF PURE FURY COMING AT YOU. Screaming down the phone lines still works even 50 years in the past!]

YOU FUCKING FROG, YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO WANDER OFF, I THOUGHT YOU WERE CAPABLE ENOUGH OF TAKING CARE OF YOURSELF INSTEAD OF GETTING YOURSELF KILLED BEFORE A TEN YEAR OLD YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT SAVING YOUR OWN SKIN NOT GETTING AXED THROUGH THE FACE, AND I WAS WORRIED ABOUT YOU AND YOU. ARE. A. SPY! SO HOW DO YOU EXCUSE YOUR INCOMPETENCE?!

[loud and incoherent Portuguese rambling. Congrats Spy, ANGRY MILLA!]

I am GOING OVER so try not to get yourself KILLED

[never_any_doubt]

[Spy actually pulls the phone an inch or so away from his ear so she doesn't deafen him. He listens to her enraged shouting and actually beings to laugh. Sounding sort of crazy there, Spy. Might wanna tone it down. Eventually he gets himself under control and puts the phone back against his ear.]

You do care! How hilarious. Why?

[Wait. Did she say she was coming over? OH NO.]

[hartmanhips]

[NO RESPONSE. She is STORMING OVER LIKE A WOMAN POSSESSED. Your laughing is NOT MAKING IT BETTER. BRB slamming open your front door and marching through your house. RUN SPY RUN.]

[never_any_doubt]

[Spy does not run. He is upstairs in the master bedroom, laughing his head off while sitting on the side of the bed. He has nowhere to run or hide, except maybe under said bed, and his snorts would give him away. (Oh, yes, did I mention he snorts like the obnoxious Frenchman he is?).]

[hartmanhips]

[STORMS DRAMATICALLY UP THE STAIRS.

FOLLOWS SOUND OF HIS LAUGHTER.

FLINGS OPEN DOOR.

STOMPS IN AND RAISES HAND TO BITCHSLAP.]

YOU. FUCKING. SON OF A BITCH FILHO DA PUTA EU NÃO ACREDITO QUE YOU ARE --

[never_any_doubt]

[He stops laughing and looks at her... and then his face screws up, and he starts laughing with renewed force.]

Oh, s'il vous plait, Madame, stop! Zhis is too funny.

[Who seriously cares about a slimy Spy enough to want to bitchslap him? Good lord, Milla, you are hilarious. Stop that.]

All I did was die. I die every day back home. Eet is nozhing for you to be so bothered about.

[hartmanhips]

[SLAPS. Then SLAPS again. Gotta keep that pimp hand strong ~~~ okay, gangsta references over.]

IT IS NOT FUNNY, YOU WERE THE ONE TALKING ABOUT HOW YOU WERE A TRAINED MERCENARY YOU [has grabbed one of the pillows off the bed and has started to beat him about the head grrr fuck you what is keeping a cool head?] WEAKLING, FILHO DA PUTA THIS IS NOT FUNNY, AND WHERE DID THEY SEND YOU, KINDERGARTEN FOR TRAINING, A TEN YEAR OLD OUTLASTED YOU SO THAT MUST DEFINITELY BE WHERE [pillow smack!] THEY [ANOTHER pillow smack!] SENT YOUR INCOMPETENT BODY [PILLOW SMACK'D!] YOU! HAVE! THE PRESERVATION INSTINCTS OF A LEMMING!

[never_any_doubt]

[The slaps make him finally stop laughing, but he doesn't stop grinning like a loon, even while she's beating him around the head with a pillow. Good lord, this is great. Nobody's ever cared enough to beat him senseless, and while he doesn't understand why she does care, that doesn't stop him from thinking that it's amusing.]

Madame! Madame, stop, s'il vous plait! I cannot -- augh! -- I cannot be expected to survive in a situation where I -- [WHUMPH] -- have no weapons and no prior knowledge of what I am dealing with!

[That's a horrible excuse and you're a horrible man, Spy. The truth was, you gave up. You got fed up with Westport not providing any good information to you, so instead of going out and looking in other places, you just lay down in the road and let them axe you the moment things started looking bad. You failed.]

[hartmanhips]

[NRAGED.

And though she's never going to admit it, that Spy is replacement Sasha, he is and the idea of Sasha - and so by extension, Spy in danger is so grating, and the fact that he died and that she couldn't even be there to at least help, or try to help, or just...SOMETHING makes her feel helpless all over again.]

NO! [smack] YOU GODAWFUL BASTARD [PILLOW SMASH] THERE WERE SO MANY MORE PEOPLE THAT WERE IN THE SAME SITUATION YOU...

[and all of a sudden she seems to run out of energy and sort of flops down over him in what must be the most drained she's ever been outside of Westport. And though it's embarrassing and all sorts of vulnerable to say this, and it's a good minute before she actually says anything, she manages to choke out the reason - or at least, part of it.]

...was worried about you.

[never_any_doubt]

[Spy carefully pushes her off of him, as though she's a very delicate bomb that could go off at any moment should he make a sudden movement. It's not as though he dislikes having fairly attractive women falling on him, but now isn't really the time.]

Well. Thank you for the concern, Madame, but as you can see I am perfectly fine.

[Yeah, all that sweetness and vulnerability? He could care less. It's a bad idea to bare your soul to Spy -- he'll tromp all over it with his pointy shoes.]

Now, are you quite finished beating me to death with zhat pillow? I was going to smoke a cigarette, but if you insist on knocking it out of my mouth in your attempts to brutalize me zhere isn't really a point.

[hartmanhips]

[too. tired. Really, and she'd admittedly be a lot more pissed had she not just released what most be an entire month's worth of anger on his head. You are now Milla's designated anger dump. But right now she's tired and though she appreciates the kindness that everybody else is showing her, perhaps it's really Spy's meanness that jolts her back to the fact that this is not a happy place, not a happy town and that she needs to concentrate on getting out.

Just. Punches him. It has absolutely no force behind it and is just a punch for the sake of it.]

Go out and smoke your damn cigarette. Try not to die. [it's a weak insult, definitely, but she did just yell and beat him over the head in what must be the most spectacular display of anger since forever. And she's up, smoothing down her hair and brushing all the lint that's accumulated off her ugly 1950s dress. She stops and eyeballs him for a while before reaching for the door.]

[never_any_doubt]

I wasn't planning on going outside to smoke, you know.

[He makes no move to get up, taking out a cigarette and lighter and lighting the damn thing up right there in the bedroom, with no open windows for the smoke to filter through. Apparently this doesn't bother him.]

Mais oui. I will try not to die. Though if you think about eet, we are all slowly dying, every day.

[He lets out a plume of smoke, fixing her with an only-slightly piercing stare.]

But zhen, I've said eet before. Death is nozhing to be scared of.

[hartmanhips]

[the cigarette smoke is far too reminiscent of the favela and it's only her unwillingness to give him even more ammunition (how the fuck do you seem to know every place that I'm weak in?) that prevents her from waving the smoke away from her face or grabbing his cigarette and putting it out right now. He looks so much like Sasha, too much, now that he's got a cigarette. The only difference is that it's not floating. His words, we're slowly dying every day strike a nerve in her and her retort is a bit sharper than she intends it to be.]

Don't -- [nearly says fucking, but she's said that enough times today, and she has a feeling she'd be playing into his game if she said that.] -- need to remind me. You think that I don't know that already? Just because you're borderline suicidal doesn't mean that everyone else is. [you son of a bitch, you son of a bitch, you worried me and yet you're still so...casual. And she's glaring back, folding her arms.]