Patrick Bateman, American Psycho

[in_doesntmatter]

Patrick looked at the paper in front of him before looking around the room itself. He didn't recall exactly how he ended up in the room or why, but he wouldn't show this. Maintaining his mechanical smile, Patrick carefully removed a pen from his breast pocket. Exhaling, he casually glanced around. He intended to pick up his sheets, blood stained

Comments

[fiercefluffy]

Octavian, who was not a telepath, could only read what Patrick Bateman had written on the application and what was betrayed or otherwise hinted by the way the man carried himself. He quirked an eyebrow. "Is the American Gardens Building very prestigious?"

It would seem so, if Bateman offered the address as an answer to the challenge Prove you are not useless.

[in_doesntmatter]

The boy looks well-enough off. He's no Patrick Bateman, but he could undoubtedly pick up a few female correspondents if he so wished. I look at him and notice his curly hair and his rather strange lips. His narrow jaw-line. He was probably a faggot.

"Yes. Yes it is. Why?"

[fiercefluffy]

Uninterested in Bateman's assessment of his features (patrician features, for the record; he was, after all, a son of the noble house of the Julii), Octavian gave a casual shrug. "You cited your address as proof you are not useless. Therefore it must be a prestigious address. Who else lives there?"

[in_doesntmatter]

I scoff at the man in a way that allows him to know I think his question is foolish.

"Everyone knows that's where all the elite live. Tom Cruise is my neighbor."

[swap_minds4fun]

Mentok is a telepath. Well, he calls it mind-taking, but it's telepathy.

"Jeez, what got your tie in a knot?"

[in_doesntmatter]

The man's painted green and he's dressed in the most horrible purple suit I've ever seen. I look at him with a polite, obligatory smile, and offer my hand.

"I'm Patrick Bateman. It's a windsor knot, it you were wondering...?" I offer, referencing the tie I'm wearing.

[swap_minds4fun]

"I'm not touching your hand, who know how much blood you got on it."

[in_doesntmatter]

"Excuse me?" I ask him with a smiling facade.

[ah_aha]

((Another in a long line of telepathic characters. Also, if I overstep on what Tenel Ka can sense, please let me know.))

Being strong in the Force did not make one telepathic. Reading minds through the Force was a difficult skill, and invading the privacy of other's was not encouraged at Master Skywalker's academy. Sensing emotions, though, was as natural to the Jedi as breathing.

What Tenel Ka felt when she looked at the man was something off, a feeling that reminded her of the Nightsisters of Dathomir and their male kin. "You are sick," the one-armed Jedi told him, mincing no words.

[in_doesntmatter]

And your naked body, no matter how fucking weird it looks, would be a flawless addition to my closet. Hanging in a see-through suit carrier interest you?. I Nod to the woman with a polite smile. The smile I always offer people. Who knows when I may need them and what I'll need them.

"Excuse me?"

[ah_aha]

Tenel Ka's right hand drifted to the large tooth that was hanging from her belt. The tooth was as long as her forearm, carved with geometric patterns and well polished. With her lizard-skin clothing, it looked like a a simple weapon, a discarded fang that the primitive woman could use to hack or bludgeon with. Instead, it held the inner workings of a perfectly functional lightsaber.

"You are not well," she repeated. Any alternate meaning of the word "sick" was foreign to her.

[in_doesntmatter]

"I'm perfect." The lie comes out flawlessly and with the mechanical finesse I've so well-crafted in my smile. "But thank you for being concerned."

[garland_briggs]

Garland couldn't quite figure out what to make of this man. He looked every bit as fine as the next slightly well to do business man: well manicured, fit, probably intelligent. But something about him was odd. For now Garland shrugged it off, as there was no point in worrying about something one could do nothing about. All he could do was get to know him better and hope that jogged something loose.

"You sound like you take great care in keeping yourself looking fit. I suppose you have to with any high ranking business position."

[in_doesntmatter]

"There's only one way to look good in a suit." I tell the friendly older man. I can't help but hope to age better. I offer my very polite hang in a greeting. A strong handshake. "'I'm Patrick Bateman."

[garland_briggs]

A firm handshake. Well thats a good sign. "A pleasure to meet you. I'm Major Garland Briggs. Air Force."

[in_doesntmatter]

"Air Force? Well..." I release my firm grip on his hand, it was rather sweaty and heavy with age. "Thank you for serving your country Major Briggs. We wouldn't have quite the nation we do now without people like you." Patrick smiled.

[mello_n_choco]

The pauses bothered me. They were too frequent. His answers, too normal. Or, maybe this place was making me more paranoid than I was. But, there was something off about him.

"So, why homosexuals? Why not women or blacks or Asians? People you don't have to talk to to know for sure if they are to be equated with 'psychopathic murders'? It would make your life ever so much simpler."

[in_doesntmatter]

The voice behind me has a valid point and I spin around in my chair to greet them. I smiled and nod at the stranger.

"Yes, but you have to give women, blacks, and asians credit; they're doing something to change their situation. Granted, they were dealt a very shitty hand of cards in life, but they are striving for equality through progressive, realistic means. Homosexuals just gather in large groups for some sort of solidarity movements. Gathering with other shirtless gays and waving rainbows and pink triangles around won't give you equal rights."

[mello_n_choco]

"Right," I reply dryly. "Like women in America didn't campaign around in bloomers, rather scandalous clothing at the time, for the right to vote. Like Chinese immigrants didn't go on work strikes to earn their rights. Like blacks didn't hold civil rights protests. No, of course not. Change does not happen without solidarity movements."

Not that I really consider myself to be homosexual. It's Near, after all. I hardly see how it matters as long as everyone is enjoying themselves.

[in_doesntmatter]

I shake my head in disagreement and pity her low level of intelligence.

"You're confusing my words. Homosexuals in this country are striving for an equality, unjustified in their times. Instead of humping each other in some dark night club, go out and try to have a real, productive life." I blink at her and imagine shoving my hand down her throat, scratching the linings of her esophagus with my bare hands on the way down.

"I refuse to allow homosexuals to have the same benefits and rights as me. Me, meaning a hard-working, sane, level-headed, american citizen."