[open, if you think you'd have permission to be there]

[in_verbatim]

Keyser Soze is alive and in the clinics. He is also tied down to the bedThings have been worse for him. He greatly prefers this state to being dead, for instance, or feargassed, even if his head is dully throbbing under all the pain medication and sedatives. His limbs feel like jelly, but that doesn't matter, because it's not like he's allowed to

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[in_the_stream]

It's a mystery who thought Leoben should be allowed in this room, but here he is, slipping quietly through the door and clicking it shut behind him. He wants to lean back against the wall, relax, enjoy the sight of Soze in pain-- but he can't quite bring himself to it. There's a certain symmetry to this, though, and that Leoben can appreciate all too well.

Instead he jams his hands in his pockets-- maybe to look casual, maybe just to hide the scars-- and stands near the door expressionlessly, keeping silent for a moment. "And whose fault is this?" he asks, finally.

[in_verbatim]

He hears the click, but his eyes aren't on the door. He just assumes it's another nurse, someone here to change his IV or bring him food or whatever. He's already made a habit of talking with them, actually, even though his voice is weak and they sometimes pretend not to hear him. Blah blah blah farmhouses blah blah Illinois blah blah blah traffic jams. You know.

It comes as a huge fucking surprise, of course, when he finally inches himself up to a sitting position and sees who's there. His first instinct is to run, just run, but he can't now, he knows this, and so he doesn't try.

"I wanted a pack of cigarettes." His voice is completely flat, and he doesn't move. "They allow you, but they don't allow cigarettes."

[in_the_stream]

Leoben would catch him, in any case, if he ran. He's just about had enough of playing games, at this point-- and if there were any patience for Soze left in him, any at all, it's gone ever since he went out in the yard last night to find his daughter weeping and terrified in the snow.

"Oh, I don't know." He tilts his head casually, but his tone is just as flat. "You look pretty comfortable to me."

[in_verbatim]

He slowly raises a hand out from under the sheets, revealing a cloth-- thick and leathery-- binding his wrist down to the bed. He doesn't look away from Leoben. Comfortable.

He lets his eyes wander to the door.

"I bet that guard has mind powers." His words are slurring, somewhat, but it doesn't change the nonchalantness of his voice. He could be speaking with an uncle, or even an old friend. "Very nice woman, from what I can tell, but she wears sunglasses and never looks people in the eye." So you better not try to kill me, is perfectly implied.

He shifts himself up again, bringing his eyes back to Leoben. His movements are not as precise as they once were, not as clean or directed or controlled. He moves like he's drugged, and it's because he is.

He tilts his head.

"You don't look half bad."

[jmlevitt]

Jeff arrives without ceremony on the third day, walking in and shutting the door behind him. Soze will be expecting him. He may not know the reason why, perhaps he'll rationalize something about Jeff's footsteps in the hall or perhaps subconsciously hearing Jeff's voice as he talked with the nurse just out of earshot. For Jeff's part, he doesn't have to be told where Soze is being kept, even without the guard at the door. It's disconcerting, a part that's not him thrumming in the back of his mind.

He looks about as good as Soze feels. He's pale, with dark circles under his eyes making him look old and tired. His hair shot through with a lot more gray than Soze would remember. It's as if he's aged ten years overnight. He sits down heavily in one of the uncomfortable chairs reserved for visitors. Just walking to Soze's room took up more energy than it should have. He stares at the other man as he catches his breath, giving Soze a chance to acknowledge him.

[in_verbatim]

"I thought you were dead."

It's a lie, but it feels like the rational thing to say. He knew Jeff was alive-- like he knew he was breathing, he knew. He pulls himself up to a sitting position as best he can and watches him. He doesn't bother putting on a smile or feigning politeness or anything silly like that. It's all far too gone at this point.

[jmlevitt]

"I'm not."

A simple statement of fact, said flatly, followed by silence. Nothing more. No shouting, no accusations, no demands. He expected to be angry, but instead he can't feel anything. Maybe it is too far gone. Maybe there just isn't an emotion big enough for this.

"So..." he says, trailing off a moment and staring into space. Words are turned over in his mind, studied, discarded, and picked up again, chosen with care. "I imagine..." he says slowly. "...That you're glad to be alive again. Considering the effort you expended to get here, I imagine that death wasn't pleasant?"

Again, that strange, flat tone of voice. No emotion behind the question at all, not even curiosity. A polite request for information; no more, no less.

[in_verbatim]

"You were on the island, Jeff." His voice and expression remain as mild as ever. "What do you think?"

He doesn't mention that he himself is surprised to be alive after this whole ordeal. It wasn't part of his plan. Possess Jeff. Take people down. Return to blank. It was a stupid, flighty plan all-in-all, but at the time, none of that mattered.

And so here he is.

He leans forward.

Now something slips into his voice, something like anger or suspicion. He doesn't break away from Jeff's eyes. "Why?"