and call it correspondence
Title: and call it correspondence
Original text(s) erased: Operating Instructions
Erased by: be_themoon
Original text by: nextian
Fandom (of original text): James Bond (Casino Royale)
Fandom (of erasure): nonspecific
"Sending me out again?
How nice of you.
Do I get to,”
"Of course.”
"I never said,"
He laughs.
"you don't mind."
Her name is motivation,
looking to get even,
using a bit of charm.
keep in touch
keep in touch.
he gets into a fight.
+
write a note about the weather
and fold it four times
That look she will wear when she receives it,
the recognition of surprise,
stake money on it.
It reads: go do your job.
go to all right,
make it quick.
“I've got all day."
behind, but not falsely;
pleasant, quiet.
You take as much as time as turning,
and she matches.
For a moment remember another woman.
+
The joke falls flat.
She smiles enough,
he's not interested.
Their negotiations are hushed.
he pretends not to recognize vague advances
can't, won't bother,
and she's too smart to get caught
but he's beginning to see edges.
+
smile all the time,
but nevertheless,
the first time send no response.
That night,
as every night,
try to follow him home.
It's a damned relief.
there are no more.
talk about theatre and opera and symphonic
recordings of good music,
talk about money and childhood stories.
check the report for spelling errors.
It's not fucking difficult at all.
respond: there are no tigers in Kenya
but only once,
and it's bloody unfair that you can't sleep,
not that you've ever had that problem.
begin to ask real questions.
The next morning send a neat note.
think about blood money.
think about degrees of treachery.
You've got a different accent in the middle of the night.
you do know I've won?
+
He makes some comment and is ignored.
He makes a comment with respect and precision.
When he wakes up
She is not watching him.
She is reading a note,
folding it over into an origami square.
he coughs up a tooth.
"What you should know," she tells him,
"is that It's good business practice."
He spits blood onto the floor
names capitals backwards in his head.
she won't get anywhere at all.
She says, "What you should know is that I know you."
She tells him, "I know that you like to lose."
There is a silence in the room.
"I will give you one chance."
"I won't," he says.
+
"I don't know what to call this,”
Always neat.
Always clean.
always in a hurry,
even standing still.
"call it the truth."
"It might be the truth, but it doesn't answer the question."
"Obviously."
She folds her fingers.
He thinks about this.
he says
"No one died."
She sighs.
Finally she says,
"I'm not doing my job.
You attract the sharks."
she says, "One more chance."
"A success," he says.
She slaps him, mouth twisting, and
After a long while he says,
"You were wrong. It was difficult."
She tugs her wrist free.
"That will be all."
+
take the note back,
neatly,
cleanly.
It's too much like success for you.
things become inevitable.
+
In the aftermath she writes
instructions, absently, down his spine.
Original text(s) erased: Operating Instructions
Erased by: be_themoon
Original text by: nextian
Fandom (of original text): James Bond (Casino Royale)
Fandom (of erasure): nonspecific
"Sending me out again?
How nice of you.
Do I get to,”
"Of course.”
"I never said,"
He laughs.
"you don't mind."
Her name is motivation,
looking to get even,
using a bit of charm.
keep in touch
keep in touch.
he gets into a fight.
+
write a note about the weather
and fold it four times
That look she will wear when she receives it,
the recognition of surprise,
stake money on it.
It reads: go do your job.
go to all right,
make it quick.
“I've got all day."
behind, but not falsely;
pleasant, quiet.
You take as much as time as turning,
and she matches.
For a moment remember another woman.
+
The joke falls flat.
She smiles enough,
he's not interested.
Their negotiations are hushed.
he pretends not to recognize vague advances
can't, won't bother,
and she's too smart to get caught
but he's beginning to see edges.
+
smile all the time,
but nevertheless,
the first time send no response.
That night,
as every night,
try to follow him home.
It's a damned relief.
there are no more.
talk about theatre and opera and symphonic
recordings of good music,
talk about money and childhood stories.
check the report for spelling errors.
It's not fucking difficult at all.
respond: there are no tigers in Kenya
but only once,
and it's bloody unfair that you can't sleep,
not that you've ever had that problem.
begin to ask real questions.
The next morning send a neat note.
think about blood money.
think about degrees of treachery.
You've got a different accent in the middle of the night.
you do know I've won?
+
He makes some comment and is ignored.
He makes a comment with respect and precision.
When he wakes up
She is not watching him.
She is reading a note,
folding it over into an origami square.
he coughs up a tooth.
"What you should know," she tells him,
"is that It's good business practice."
He spits blood onto the floor
names capitals backwards in his head.
she won't get anywhere at all.
She says, "What you should know is that I know you."
She tells him, "I know that you like to lose."
There is a silence in the room.
"I will give you one chance."
"I won't," he says.
+
"I don't know what to call this,”
Always neat.
Always clean.
always in a hurry,
even standing still.
"call it the truth."
"It might be the truth, but it doesn't answer the question."
"Obviously."
She folds her fingers.
He thinks about this.
he says
"No one died."
She sighs.
Finally she says,
"I'm not doing my job.
You attract the sharks."
she says, "One more chance."
"A success," he says.
She slaps him, mouth twisting, and
After a long while he says,
"You were wrong. It was difficult."
She tugs her wrist free.
"That will be all."
+
take the note back,
neatly,
cleanly.
It's too much like success for you.
things become inevitable.
+
In the aftermath she writes
instructions, absently, down his spine.