By the front door is a table - there are lots of table, but this one is important - with a young woman seated. Boots on the table, leaning back in her chair; she's tiny, with dark hair cut pixie-short and Slavic cheekbones. Jeans and jacket, and she's smoking as she watches the bar. Eventually, her green eyes rest on him.
they've never met she read newspapers, looked at black and white photographs for hours but it isn't the same
Those eyes narrow, slightly, as if she is trying to place him.
As she lay at Tibor’s feet she was neither a Russian, nor the first female human being to have seen the far side of the Moon. She was merely the girl that he had killed.
He remembers everything about her.
He almost doesn't react (doesn't at all, if you discount a blink).
Because how do you talk to someone you've killed?
And if you no longer have your justification?
Tibor can't.
(He can only stand, stiff, by the front door, weight on one foot, jaw set, staring back at her without moving as though he were caught in time.)
I wish I could see your face now! I wish I could watch you die, as I had to watch Theo.
She stares back, still wondering where she saw his face. Then, slowly, she swings her boots off the table and leans forward, weight now braced on an elbow.
"Y'might want to step away from the door," she says, eventually, and it's hard to tell if it is her Russian accent that makes her voice low and husky, or if it'd been like that no matter where she would have been born.
There's something about the numb quiet of the man at the door that seems familiar to Cal. He knows it all too well, the sense of something he can't live with and can't ever forget, no matter what he tries.
Admittedly, the prison uniform kind of augments that impression a little.
Sigma Delta One Six Three - Daria Dmitrievna Lubimova - Sasha watches Tibor with something that can only be called curiosity. The curiosity of a leopard, maybe, with something a little too neutral and intent in those lovely brown eyes, but still curious.
You can tell a lot about a man by the way he stands, what he wears, how he wears it, but mostly how he stands.
(would you lie down and take it, stranger?)
"Why don't you sit?" Sasha asks at least, voice soft and breathy, accent barely-there-Russian.
Comments 136
they've never met
she read newspapers, looked at
black and white photographs for hours
but it isn't the same
Those eyes narrow, slightly, as if she is trying to place him.
Reply
He remembers everything about her.
He almost doesn't react (doesn't at all, if you discount a blink).
Because how do you talk to someone you've killed?
And if you no longer have your justification?
Tibor can't.
(He can only stand, stiff, by the front door, weight on one foot, jaw set, staring back at her without moving as though he were caught in time.)
I wish I could see your face now!
I wish I could watch you die, as I had to watch Theo.
Theo, Theo, Theo.
What would he think?
Szabo doesn't want to know.
Reply
"Y'might want to step away from the door," she says, eventually, and it's hard to tell if it is her Russian accent that makes her voice low and husky, or if it'd been like that no matter where she would have been born.
Reply
But he knows, he knows that the moment he opens his mouth--)
(Better sooner than later.)
In a voice hoarse from disuse: "I'll be oke."
Reply
Small child sitting to watch the puppets!!
Reply
"You know, 'arry," he says airily, turning to the walrus, "I think he's watching us."
The walrus looks directly at Alec, somewhat less tactful, although not on purpose.
"I think he is," he replies. He waves a paw.
"Hello, there!"
Reply
Reply
"What's your name?"
Reply
Admittedly, the prison uniform kind of augments that impression a little.
"You all right?" he asks mildly.
Reply
(His lips are dry.)
And for one reason or another, he doesn't yet feel like speaking up, so he nods his head.
Reply
"You want to sit down?" he asks, gesturing to his table.
Reply
A little hesitantly, he takes a seat.
Clearing his throat, he manages something close to a smile.
"Thank you."
Reply
You can tell a lot about a man by the way he stands, what he wears, how he wears it, but mostly how he stands.
(would you lie down and take it,
stranger?)
"Why don't you sit?" Sasha asks at least, voice soft and breathy, accent barely-there-Russian.
Reply
"I'll be alright."
Reply
"People will keep on asking."
Reply
He doesn't look away, either.
Reply
He's watching Tibor, because he doesn't trust people that lurk in doorways.
Chew on that one for a while, why don't you.
Reply
Not that he doesn't appreciate the offer.
(And in terms of how Rorschach seems him, well. The prison jumpsuit probably isn't helping his case.)
Reply
"Hurm," says Rorschach.
Reply
He's being watched.
Reply
Leave a comment