Gettin' the bugs out, Pt. I
It's night. It's the third time Wesker's made this pilgrimage: halfway up a building two streets away from the apartment. The flickering of light could be a stray reflection off a piece of glass. He knows to keep the light dim. He's willing to try the code signal a few times. If he must, he'll have HUNK bring his ally out--but it's really best to keep connections down.
William Birkin isn't asleep. He can't manage that despite the beautiful woman sleeping beside him. There's something that's weighing on his subconcious - (Your friend. He was your friend)- but he can't let himself think-
Finally he stands. Kissing Annette, he shrugs into his dingy labcoat and opens and closes the door to their room.
Going for a walk.
And Wesker’s going to feel very sorry for himself if he learns Birkin’s decision to come out was random.
Nonetheless. Outside the gate, the scene is much the same as always: high chance of death by rain or Magog, low chance of pretty flowers, and a strange sense of being watched.
Birkin stops short a few feet away from the main gate. Shivering. He was watched at Arklay-but this...
"...Christ I could use a fucking cigarette."
It's been years since he smoked. That was the worst part about it.
. . . Wesker's just going to keep hanging out a fair distance away from the gate, since it tends to have watchmen and he's still supposed to be fairly dead.
Birkin hesitated, ignoring the guards. Was there something out there?-Could he-
No. Best not.
Shivering still, he strode away from the gate and leaned against the wall, careful to avoid a puddle of water that seemed to materialize out of nowhere.
Nothing.
No one to talk to, nothing...
"What if I were to just give you my flashlight? I was fairly sure you were about to become an amputee, for a moment," the darkness says. The voice is completely toneless. But familiar.
Birkin knows that voice.
As evidenced by his sudden leap to his feet, "-Who's there-who-"
Not the bravest of men.
"I do apologize." Wesker crosses the street, very slowly, giving him time to adjust. "I--" he stops dead, and for a moment he looks absolutely astonished. Birkin has met someone? --good heavens, he's changed.
Birkin peers into the gloom, "....Wesker?"
It might not be. Birkin's not really trusting his senses at the moment.
"Birkin?" No, they don't sound like geniuses, just at the moment. Wesker tamps down his surprise. "Yes." He doesn't ask who else it might be. Birkin might have started developing alliances. Does he really want to have this news dumped on him?
Of course. any sort of news. It takes William Birkin a moment to collect himself.
No. Longer then a moment.
"...You....you're dead." Dead people came back from the dead all the time back home. That was certain. Like Taxes. But he'd been obliterated-
"Well, yes." He hopes whoever broke the news was properly respectful. It's hard to know how people will act, around here. "This is the second time I've come back." One eyebrow lifts. Birkin shouldn't know he's died once, so he won't mention that he's suddenly behind in the competition. "You're safe."
"...You were obliterated- they said-"
Birkin knows that. He accepts that. He doesn't accept the fact that Krauser apparently didn't see it all.
"No. I had a wall fall on me. Obliteration requires rather more effort." Not much can reach him, but he has to look away from William for a moment, remembering what the final G-Virus mutant form had looked like after the train. "I was able to drag myself out."--he's noticed William seems to be coping rather better with this than he was the loss of the G-Virus.
Birkin's coping because he had faith in Wesker, and because, "....Don't you ever do that goddamnit."
Ah yes. There's the breaking.
"...I mean it. You bastard. You looked after me this long, don't you ever do that again."
It was childish, it was silly. It was perfectly ridiculous, but-
Birkin wished he had a gun so he could beat some sense into his friend.
"I won't." Simple, not-very-guarded reassurance. Birkin has a habit of calling up old patterns; he never would have been this honest in the years since he died, not with anyone else. Even Annette, who has Birkin's best interests in mind, would get something distracting and with less promised. "I simply didn't see it coming." He paused. "I thought I would have time to warn you." He did tell him about his goal of immortality, after all.
He did and Birkin, at that mention, raises an eyebrow, "....What were-" He can guess, but he wants to hear it, "...What were you doing?"
"Actually, I was simply going on patrol." There's a faintly guilty edge to his smile, but it's gone in a moment, and then the smile flattens out. "I was. . . well, injured." Birkin does not need to know about the "dying" bit. "The Magog chose to leave me be, preferring to attack my partner--who I believe made it back." He frowns, replaying that last memory before the wall fell: Decan standing there, watching, blank-eyed and uncaring. "I would be wary of him, by the way." He exhales slowly. Best to finish breaking the news. "My ally happened across me."
"...Your ally." A pause, "...The vampire?"
He almost smiles. Birkin's filling in the pieces with characteristic persistence. "Yes." This is proving to be one of those things it's rather harder to come out and say.
A pause.
Another longer pause.
"...Did he turn you?"
"Yes." He gives it a moment to sink in. "That night." He opens his hands. "I've tried to reach you since to tell you." Time for what he cannot say to anyone else, besides those who died long ago: "I'm sorry." And yes, one reason that he hates saying it is that when he has to, it's never adequate.
Birkin's heart is pounding in his chest. The Virus he understood, the virus he got, but this-
This-
He squirms away a bit. If Wesker can smell emotions, he'd definately smell fear, "......How do you feel?"
Wesker starts to step forward, but cancels it. He was aware that this was a possibility. That doesn’t make it welcome. But the question calls forth his real smile. It’s small, faint, and with fangs. But it’s there.
“Better.” He exhales. “Much more cautious. I had wanted to have my plans more firmly in place before this happened. I’ve. . . gained a blood donor, and I don’t need to eat often. My situation is not bad.”
Birkin hasn't caught on to the fact that he's exuding fear. The fangs-actual fangs-
"....What's it like?"
His voice is full of wonder and it sounds just like it did when he first saw Lisa Trevor, all those years ago. That throws Wesker, a little. But he’s never been a lab experiment, and his confidence remains. The possibility drifts through the back of his mind that this could change things as his first death could not-but he can handle this. He knows William.
“Unique.” He shakes his head. “It’s impossible to forget my distance from what we know of as science, but at the same time, the rules governing me now are consistent, and must be open to study.” There’s a moment in which he flicks through things to say and not to say. “I do find the positives outweigh the negatives.”
".....No mutation?" Birkin gestures, "-Besides the-"
He opened his mouth partially to indicate Wesker's canines, "...No wolf transformation? Bat? Fog?"
Incredible.
".....I-" I want my lab. with my assistants. And Annette and-
"Yes. One primary mutation not standard to others of my kind." He considers how much of the Frenzy to explain, and settles on: none. "It's actually a drawback, but not an insurmountable one. As for changing: I can't, yet. It will be possible for me to learn, eventually." And he winces a little. Beckett's transformations made for a challenging spar.
"....What sort of-" Birkin put a hand to his head, "...Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. And you'll be able to return from the mutations-that's-"
He's speechless. But a grin is starting to form. . . Yes, Wesker suspects the hard part of explaining his death can now be considered over. "We can never be said to be safe here, but I think if I hold to a standard of conduct that doesn't involve anyone else dying, I can get by without major risk to any of us. I think now, the primary trick is going to be to plan as much as possible while preparing to return home." Because he will make the world theirs if they do. "If we take adequate steps, we can be free to move here if necessary."
Birkin's at a loss, too taken aback with the possibilities of this venture, "...We?-"
Wesker's face goes completely blank. He's glad he didn't take off the shades. "I. . ." And for a moment, he actually is speechless too. "Myself. Yourself. The loyal mercenary we have left."
"...Oh!" Birkin's not good with people. Did we mention that? He's totally not picking up on the seriousness in Wesker's voice, "-Of course. of course. What do you need from me?"
"I think we-" Wesker repeats the grouping because they're a team, damn it, and they're going to stay one no matter how many times either of them dies--Wesker wasn't the one who lay there a mangled, twisted ruin and wouldn't get up. "I think we need to change our focus a little. Zombies will not help us here. My frozen blood should be sufficient to extract the G-virus. I rather think we should start with that, or a lesser, stable, noncontagious version of the T-virus. Plants will appear innocuous, and will be welcome here. But more advanced versions can be triggered if we require something to act for us."
"...Plants in this climate?" Birkin frowned, "-The water here's toxic. Even Plant 42 needed something to survive on."
"I know." Wesker sighs. "If we want anything outside, unusually deep roots will be a necessity, so that the ground itself absorbs the worst of the acid. The lighting requirements are worst. Putting anything outside could take a decade." He does think, of course, they can do anything.
....If it had a building to grow where it couldn't be exposed to the rain-" Birkin shurgs into his labcoat, "...That might work."
"There are fallen buildings where expanses of wall angle enough to provide shelter, or partially fallen garages. Either way, whatever we make, it has to be open to sudden potential scrutiny. I think we could safely experiment with rats, if need be, but with no contagion. Dogs are a subject of sentiment here, however." He shakes his head. "We have to consider the high odds that we will be caught, eventually. Plants are safe. We can simply appear helpful, trying to improve living conditions for all of us."
Until one of the two sets off the chemical signal and said plants become thrashing spined monstrosities, but that goes without saying.
"...I can get started tomorrow-" Birkin peered upward at the greenhouse, "...Get you samples-how soon can I get to your lab?"
"Whenever you like." This statement is going to be a lot harder for him to say than it is for Birkin to hear: "HUNK is loyal. He can escort you there and back." And they had damn well better get there and back both in one piece. "Don't take unnecessary risks. Obtaining seeds might be simpler than sprouts, and cuttings could be noticed."
"-seeds then." Birkin said, "...all right. I'll get Annette to help me."
"That would help. My blood's labelled, of course. I should be in the lab when you're present." He'll be camping there, actually; he doesn't want to leave too much of a scent trail. "Our primary focus should be on adapting. If you concern yourself with botany, I still have to adjust to my new. . . condition. I haven't learned everything I need to."
"....That should of course be your first priority." Birkin said, businesslike, "-Leave the seed gathering to me-and if Hunk is as trustworthy as you say, I doubt we should have a problem."
Wesker's smile is back. "I've never doubted your competence." He pauses. ". . . how have you been?" No, he didn't like having been away, leaving Birkin to what could rapidly become a torch-bearing mob.
Birkin flinches at that. Nothing meant in it. He's a flinchy sort of guy, "....Me? all right. Bored. honestly."
'All right' is the best that can be hoped for, considering the conditions--and the people. "Good." They're both going to have a lot of adjusting to do. "If you need help, let me know." He's going to have to come up with a system, but HUNK can bodyguard, to an extent, and message-carry when needed.
Birkin nodded, shivering again and looking back toward the apartment, "...Where will you go?"
Three-second pause before Wesker gives the exact location of his shelter. "I'm not impossible to awaken, should you be there in the daytime." It's not necessary to give the usual warnings. Birkin was able to keep his marriage to Annette a secret from Umbrella, after all.
Of course, "-Of course." Birkin said, "-Chances are I'll need to keep up appearances around here during the day anyway."
"Yes, it would be in a worst-case scenario." Of course he's got a safe exit route from his building! Wesker settles back against the wall. It doesn’t surprise him that Birkin's primary concern here is that he's bored. Still, he'll have something to do now.
Hey, he's William Birkin. Wesker will always be there in one form or another, "...Please be reasonable Albert-I mean-I can come at night right?" It'd mean not getting sleep, but when had he had a problem with that?"
He's used to Birkin simply not being there, and the reminder he might want to visit just to socialize and confer is striking. "If you like. I don't get other company, and HUNK doesn't know the location--if you want an escort, that's up to your discretion. The vampire who turned me will not harm you, but you shouldn't meet him there anyway." He pauses. "It wasn't Harth. Avoid him."
"...Avoid this Harth?"
"Yes." Wesker pauses, thinking. "He's a wild card. He's intelligent and rational, until he. . . isn't." Wesker resented being asked to end the world. He'd like something to rule, thank you.
Birkin frowns, "...How often does he...stalk around? I mean-don't vampires have a sort of-" He waves a hand destractedly, " Coven?"
"He hunts alone. The Magog cluster, usually, a hangover of their social instincts. But he roams. It makes him much more unpredictable. However, two people, one prepared with gear from the apartments, tend to be more of a risk than the easier prey that constantly arrive. He hasn't attacked any patrols.
"He won't be doing the wolf trick, by the way, or the mist. That's left to my kind."
Birkin laughs, ".....People always used to make werewolf jokes."
"Now, if only they'd made vampire jokes, they'd have redeemed themselves a little. Although I think there were suspicions about Spencer."
Birkin snorted, "...What would he say-"
The man drifts off for a moment ,completely lost in thought, "......Do you regret any of this?"
It's so completely bizzare, so completely left field, that Birkin frowns for a moment, "..Where the hell did that come from?"
"Some of the night techs working on Marcus' leech project talked too much near dawn, when they were thinking less." He shakes his head. "I've no doubt he'd try to capture me immediately. Not a safe prospect, by any means." He watches Birkin think, and when he brings them back to the present, he's a little startled himself. "I could have chosen a better route, and I have much to do, but I'm pleased with this." As for Birkin's non-monstrous, non-dead appearance--"no, I think there are no regrets with how things are here."
"...Me neither." Birkin nodded, "-Absolutely not. The sooner I help you, the sooner we can leave this hellhole."
He hopes.
William Birkin isn't asleep. He can't manage that despite the beautiful woman sleeping beside him. There's something that's weighing on his subconcious - (Your friend. He was your friend)- but he can't let himself think-
Finally he stands. Kissing Annette, he shrugs into his dingy labcoat and opens and closes the door to their room.
Going for a walk.
And Wesker’s going to feel very sorry for himself if he learns Birkin’s decision to come out was random.
Nonetheless. Outside the gate, the scene is much the same as always: high chance of death by rain or Magog, low chance of pretty flowers, and a strange sense of being watched.
Birkin stops short a few feet away from the main gate. Shivering. He was watched at Arklay-but this...
"...Christ I could use a fucking cigarette."
It's been years since he smoked. That was the worst part about it.
. . . Wesker's just going to keep hanging out a fair distance away from the gate, since it tends to have watchmen and he's still supposed to be fairly dead.
Birkin hesitated, ignoring the guards. Was there something out there?-Could he-
No. Best not.
Shivering still, he strode away from the gate and leaned against the wall, careful to avoid a puddle of water that seemed to materialize out of nowhere.
Nothing.
No one to talk to, nothing...
"What if I were to just give you my flashlight? I was fairly sure you were about to become an amputee, for a moment," the darkness says. The voice is completely toneless. But familiar.
Birkin knows that voice.
As evidenced by his sudden leap to his feet, "-Who's there-who-"
Not the bravest of men.
"I do apologize." Wesker crosses the street, very slowly, giving him time to adjust. "I--" he stops dead, and for a moment he looks absolutely astonished. Birkin has met someone? --good heavens, he's changed.
Birkin peers into the gloom, "....Wesker?"
It might not be. Birkin's not really trusting his senses at the moment.
"Birkin?" No, they don't sound like geniuses, just at the moment. Wesker tamps down his surprise. "Yes." He doesn't ask who else it might be. Birkin might have started developing alliances. Does he really want to have this news dumped on him?
Of course. any sort of news. It takes William Birkin a moment to collect himself.
No. Longer then a moment.
"...You....you're dead." Dead people came back from the dead all the time back home. That was certain. Like Taxes. But he'd been obliterated-
"Well, yes." He hopes whoever broke the news was properly respectful. It's hard to know how people will act, around here. "This is the second time I've come back." One eyebrow lifts. Birkin shouldn't know he's died once, so he won't mention that he's suddenly behind in the competition. "You're safe."
"...You were obliterated- they said-"
Birkin knows that. He accepts that. He doesn't accept the fact that Krauser apparently didn't see it all.
"No. I had a wall fall on me. Obliteration requires rather more effort." Not much can reach him, but he has to look away from William for a moment, remembering what the final G-Virus mutant form had looked like after the train. "I was able to drag myself out."--he's noticed William seems to be coping rather better with this than he was the loss of the G-Virus.
Birkin's coping because he had faith in Wesker, and because, "....Don't you ever do that goddamnit."
Ah yes. There's the breaking.
"...I mean it. You bastard. You looked after me this long, don't you ever do that again."
It was childish, it was silly. It was perfectly ridiculous, but-
Birkin wished he had a gun so he could beat some sense into his friend.
"I won't." Simple, not-very-guarded reassurance. Birkin has a habit of calling up old patterns; he never would have been this honest in the years since he died, not with anyone else. Even Annette, who has Birkin's best interests in mind, would get something distracting and with less promised. "I simply didn't see it coming." He paused. "I thought I would have time to warn you." He did tell him about his goal of immortality, after all.
He did and Birkin, at that mention, raises an eyebrow, "....What were-" He can guess, but he wants to hear it, "...What were you doing?"
"Actually, I was simply going on patrol." There's a faintly guilty edge to his smile, but it's gone in a moment, and then the smile flattens out. "I was. . . well, injured." Birkin does not need to know about the "dying" bit. "The Magog chose to leave me be, preferring to attack my partner--who I believe made it back." He frowns, replaying that last memory before the wall fell: Decan standing there, watching, blank-eyed and uncaring. "I would be wary of him, by the way." He exhales slowly. Best to finish breaking the news. "My ally happened across me."
"...Your ally." A pause, "...The vampire?"
He almost smiles. Birkin's filling in the pieces with characteristic persistence. "Yes." This is proving to be one of those things it's rather harder to come out and say.
A pause.
Another longer pause.
"...Did he turn you?"
"Yes." He gives it a moment to sink in. "That night." He opens his hands. "I've tried to reach you since to tell you." Time for what he cannot say to anyone else, besides those who died long ago: "I'm sorry." And yes, one reason that he hates saying it is that when he has to, it's never adequate.
Birkin's heart is pounding in his chest. The Virus he understood, the virus he got, but this-
This-
He squirms away a bit. If Wesker can smell emotions, he'd definately smell fear, "......How do you feel?"
Wesker starts to step forward, but cancels it. He was aware that this was a possibility. That doesn’t make it welcome. But the question calls forth his real smile. It’s small, faint, and with fangs. But it’s there.
“Better.” He exhales. “Much more cautious. I had wanted to have my plans more firmly in place before this happened. I’ve. . . gained a blood donor, and I don’t need to eat often. My situation is not bad.”
Birkin hasn't caught on to the fact that he's exuding fear. The fangs-actual fangs-
"....What's it like?"
His voice is full of wonder and it sounds just like it did when he first saw Lisa Trevor, all those years ago. That throws Wesker, a little. But he’s never been a lab experiment, and his confidence remains. The possibility drifts through the back of his mind that this could change things as his first death could not-but he can handle this. He knows William.
“Unique.” He shakes his head. “It’s impossible to forget my distance from what we know of as science, but at the same time, the rules governing me now are consistent, and must be open to study.” There’s a moment in which he flicks through things to say and not to say. “I do find the positives outweigh the negatives.”
".....No mutation?" Birkin gestures, "-Besides the-"
He opened his mouth partially to indicate Wesker's canines, "...No wolf transformation? Bat? Fog?"
Incredible.
".....I-" I want my lab. with my assistants. And Annette and-
"Yes. One primary mutation not standard to others of my kind." He considers how much of the Frenzy to explain, and settles on: none. "It's actually a drawback, but not an insurmountable one. As for changing: I can't, yet. It will be possible for me to learn, eventually." And he winces a little. Beckett's transformations made for a challenging spar.
"....What sort of-" Birkin put a hand to his head, "...Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. And you'll be able to return from the mutations-that's-"
He's speechless. But a grin is starting to form. . . Yes, Wesker suspects the hard part of explaining his death can now be considered over. "We can never be said to be safe here, but I think if I hold to a standard of conduct that doesn't involve anyone else dying, I can get by without major risk to any of us. I think now, the primary trick is going to be to plan as much as possible while preparing to return home." Because he will make the world theirs if they do. "If we take adequate steps, we can be free to move here if necessary."
Birkin's at a loss, too taken aback with the possibilities of this venture, "...We?-"
Wesker's face goes completely blank. He's glad he didn't take off the shades. "I. . ." And for a moment, he actually is speechless too. "Myself. Yourself. The loyal mercenary we have left."
"...Oh!" Birkin's not good with people. Did we mention that? He's totally not picking up on the seriousness in Wesker's voice, "-Of course. of course. What do you need from me?"
"I think we-" Wesker repeats the grouping because they're a team, damn it, and they're going to stay one no matter how many times either of them dies--Wesker wasn't the one who lay there a mangled, twisted ruin and wouldn't get up. "I think we need to change our focus a little. Zombies will not help us here. My frozen blood should be sufficient to extract the G-virus. I rather think we should start with that, or a lesser, stable, noncontagious version of the T-virus. Plants will appear innocuous, and will be welcome here. But more advanced versions can be triggered if we require something to act for us."
"...Plants in this climate?" Birkin frowned, "-The water here's toxic. Even Plant 42 needed something to survive on."
"I know." Wesker sighs. "If we want anything outside, unusually deep roots will be a necessity, so that the ground itself absorbs the worst of the acid. The lighting requirements are worst. Putting anything outside could take a decade." He does think, of course, they can do anything.
....If it had a building to grow where it couldn't be exposed to the rain-" Birkin shurgs into his labcoat, "...That might work."
"There are fallen buildings where expanses of wall angle enough to provide shelter, or partially fallen garages. Either way, whatever we make, it has to be open to sudden potential scrutiny. I think we could safely experiment with rats, if need be, but with no contagion. Dogs are a subject of sentiment here, however." He shakes his head. "We have to consider the high odds that we will be caught, eventually. Plants are safe. We can simply appear helpful, trying to improve living conditions for all of us."
Until one of the two sets off the chemical signal and said plants become thrashing spined monstrosities, but that goes without saying.
"...I can get started tomorrow-" Birkin peered upward at the greenhouse, "...Get you samples-how soon can I get to your lab?"
"Whenever you like." This statement is going to be a lot harder for him to say than it is for Birkin to hear: "HUNK is loyal. He can escort you there and back." And they had damn well better get there and back both in one piece. "Don't take unnecessary risks. Obtaining seeds might be simpler than sprouts, and cuttings could be noticed."
"-seeds then." Birkin said, "...all right. I'll get Annette to help me."
"That would help. My blood's labelled, of course. I should be in the lab when you're present." He'll be camping there, actually; he doesn't want to leave too much of a scent trail. "Our primary focus should be on adapting. If you concern yourself with botany, I still have to adjust to my new. . . condition. I haven't learned everything I need to."
"....That should of course be your first priority." Birkin said, businesslike, "-Leave the seed gathering to me-and if Hunk is as trustworthy as you say, I doubt we should have a problem."
Wesker's smile is back. "I've never doubted your competence." He pauses. ". . . how have you been?" No, he didn't like having been away, leaving Birkin to what could rapidly become a torch-bearing mob.
Birkin flinches at that. Nothing meant in it. He's a flinchy sort of guy, "....Me? all right. Bored. honestly."
'All right' is the best that can be hoped for, considering the conditions--and the people. "Good." They're both going to have a lot of adjusting to do. "If you need help, let me know." He's going to have to come up with a system, but HUNK can bodyguard, to an extent, and message-carry when needed.
Birkin nodded, shivering again and looking back toward the apartment, "...Where will you go?"
Three-second pause before Wesker gives the exact location of his shelter. "I'm not impossible to awaken, should you be there in the daytime." It's not necessary to give the usual warnings. Birkin was able to keep his marriage to Annette a secret from Umbrella, after all.
Of course, "-Of course." Birkin said, "-Chances are I'll need to keep up appearances around here during the day anyway."
"Yes, it would be in a worst-case scenario." Of course he's got a safe exit route from his building! Wesker settles back against the wall. It doesn’t surprise him that Birkin's primary concern here is that he's bored. Still, he'll have something to do now.
Hey, he's William Birkin. Wesker will always be there in one form or another, "...Please be reasonable Albert-I mean-I can come at night right?" It'd mean not getting sleep, but when had he had a problem with that?"
He's used to Birkin simply not being there, and the reminder he might want to visit just to socialize and confer is striking. "If you like. I don't get other company, and HUNK doesn't know the location--if you want an escort, that's up to your discretion. The vampire who turned me will not harm you, but you shouldn't meet him there anyway." He pauses. "It wasn't Harth. Avoid him."
"...Avoid this Harth?"
"Yes." Wesker pauses, thinking. "He's a wild card. He's intelligent and rational, until he. . . isn't." Wesker resented being asked to end the world. He'd like something to rule, thank you.
Birkin frowns, "...How often does he...stalk around? I mean-don't vampires have a sort of-" He waves a hand destractedly, " Coven?"
"He hunts alone. The Magog cluster, usually, a hangover of their social instincts. But he roams. It makes him much more unpredictable. However, two people, one prepared with gear from the apartments, tend to be more of a risk than the easier prey that constantly arrive. He hasn't attacked any patrols.
"He won't be doing the wolf trick, by the way, or the mist. That's left to my kind."
Birkin laughs, ".....People always used to make werewolf jokes."
"Now, if only they'd made vampire jokes, they'd have redeemed themselves a little. Although I think there were suspicions about Spencer."
Birkin snorted, "...What would he say-"
The man drifts off for a moment ,completely lost in thought, "......Do you regret any of this?"
It's so completely bizzare, so completely left field, that Birkin frowns for a moment, "..Where the hell did that come from?"
"Some of the night techs working on Marcus' leech project talked too much near dawn, when they were thinking less." He shakes his head. "I've no doubt he'd try to capture me immediately. Not a safe prospect, by any means." He watches Birkin think, and when he brings them back to the present, he's a little startled himself. "I could have chosen a better route, and I have much to do, but I'm pleased with this." As for Birkin's non-monstrous, non-dead appearance--"no, I think there are no regrets with how things are here."
"...Me neither." Birkin nodded, "-Absolutely not. The sooner I help you, the sooner we can leave this hellhole."
He hopes.