Percy knew Sam would come. It was something in the way they were, the invitation for something that would grow to be bloody, or fulfilling in some other way. Either result had its own benefits for Sam, and he more than knew it. But as the clock in the hotel room clicked on by, Percy flicked through the telly's channels with little amusement
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"What is it you want?"
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"Sex." Pause. "Drugs. Violence."
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"Poor little Anson thinks you care about him, you know." He comments blandly as he moves to stand in front of Sam. "Poor thing. And he thinks I'm the one manipulating him."
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"What do you want, Percy."
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Sighing, he poked the man in the chest. "What makes you think I have to want something? Can' I jus' want to see you? Everyone else gets to."
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And Sam looked down from the fingertip up to Percy's face, eyebrows up again in disbelief. "You just want to see me? Since when has that happened?" Pause. "Since when has that happened in the past year," he added.
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Which was not entirely untrue. But not exactly true either. Percy was not, actually, capable of love. But he could mimic it well enough to fool even himself a little.
"...I been busy," he commented about his lack of just 'seeing' Sam. "I've been stuck in the Americas, I have a nice little house hold, mouths to feed, humans to bathe...it isn' so easy to find the time."
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Although really, if he was going to manifest anywhere, that would be the place to do it...
Neer mind.
"Oh, I see how it is," Sam smirked, adopting a certain tone. "You don't call, you don't write, you can't find the time to visit your doddering old..." Whatever.
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Tugging at Sam's shirt, Percy looked up at Sam through his lashes.
"Could start now..."
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Then he grabbed Percy's wrists in his. "Not that I scruple to let you fuck me or bleed me or whatever it is your twisted little heart desires..." Look who's talking, Sam. "But... what is it you want?"
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"You could bleed me, really...if you wanted."
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But he did let go of Percy's wrists.
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Well Percy hadn't. It was more than evident by the way invisible hands ran over Sam's body, and suddenly pulled him up hard, and tight.
"But I want to play, Sam."
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"I'm not in a mood to take your blood, Percy," he told him. "But if you want to play, let's play."
And on the last word he didn't bother to gesture, didn't bother to speak any magic words. He just looked at Percy and knocked him across the room.
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Smirking, let his eyes stay closed.
He could wait a little...
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