[it wasn't every day that Draco found random men passed out near his house. Perhaps it wasn't his forest, per se, but his last conversation with his mother had suggested that she more than believed that the general area around Malfoy Manor was theirs, and there was nothing anyone could do about that. So...in a way, the forest was his. Yep.
[But if it was his property, then that was his bench, and he could exercise his right to get hobos and strange sleeping men off of it.]
[Castiel startles awake at the shout, looking around to try and orient himself back. He looks confused. Like he has just been startled awake from a surprise nap. He stares down at his lap, and the sun, and then he looks at Draco.]
[He looks down at his clothes, which look the same as usual - a little cheap, but clean, his tie loose and a bit crooked. Then, he studied the boy: definitely a boy, perhaps almost a man, in finery.]
Is there something wrong with these clothes? [A beat.] I don't have any money for a cottage.
They're bloody terrible, that's all. And unless something's changed, you probably do, because you can usually just pick one you fancy and move in. Though I imagine you won't precisely stay there anyway, so perhaps it's a moot point.
[Castiel is a little surprised by Draco's surprising vehemence about these clothes. He also has the humanity to be mildly offended - Jimmy Novak wore this suit to church, after all. And no clothes are better than church clothes, obviously. He sits up a little straighter on the bench and studies Draco intently.]
What about them is so terrible? [A beat.] Where would I go? Besides back to my universe, I mean. Do you have a way to escape this place quickly?
They're cheap, to say the least. Please, for the love of Merlin, if you're going to wear a suit at all, wear a nice one.
And I assumed that since you're sleeping on benches that you've a penchant for wandering. Which means you'll go wherever you want. And no, we don't. There's no way to escape it at all, let alone quickly.
[But if it was his property, then that was his bench, and he could exercise his right to get hobos and strange sleeping men off of it.]
Oi.
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Was I asleep?
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[...what a weirdo.]
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[He looks down at his clothes, which look the same as usual - a little cheap, but clean, his tie loose and a bit crooked. Then, he studied the boy: definitely a boy, perhaps almost a man, in finery.]
Is there something wrong with these clothes? [A beat.] I don't have any money for a cottage.
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They're bloody terrible, that's all. And unless something's changed, you probably do, because you can usually just pick one you fancy and move in. Though I imagine you won't precisely stay there anyway, so perhaps it's a moot point.
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What about them is so terrible? [A beat.] Where would I go? Besides back to my universe, I mean. Do you have a way to escape this place quickly?
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And I assumed that since you're sleeping on benches that you've a penchant for wandering. Which means you'll go wherever you want. And no, we don't. There's no way to escape it at all, let alone quickly.
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[He pauses, looking at the bench, and the road, and Draco.]
I don't need to be anywhere except not in this prison.
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Good luck, then. When you fail miserably, don't tell me; I'll already know.
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[He tilts his head to the side, the frown not abating with this poorly-raised boy.]
Have you tried any methods? What were they?
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What, you think I'm an idiot? I've been here two years. Of course I've tried things. Everything, in fact.
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I doubt everything. But I would be interested hearing a list of what you did try.
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It's probably better to review all my options independently anyway. [he gathers his thoughts for a moment, then looks back.
Is a summarized list possible?
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No. No, it isn't.
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