The phone that rang on the other side of town was the sleek, sexy (and probably bitterly estranged) great-granddaughter of the monstrosity on Worth's desk; not even a half-inch thick, and not a protrusion or a sharp edge to sully her trendy aerodynamics
( ... )
THE PHONE CALLcol_roy_josephOctober 16 2010, 05:43:47 UTC
"Good, yer up. Come over."
"...........What?"
"Come... O... ver. I thought vamps had good ears."
"It wasn't a matter of not hearing you. What do you want? ...I'm busy."
"Ya got all night ta look at gay porn sites. Do it later."
"I'm not looking at gay---rrrgh. Look. This had better be important."
"It's damn important, all right. Think I'd call ya up justa ask how yer doin'?"
"I have no idea. I don't want you to call me at ALL."
"That makes two of us. Y'know how heavy this thing is? Just get over here. I ain't got all night."
"Heavy what---oh, God. No. Don't tell me. I don't want to know."
"Wouldn't show ya if ya begged me. See ya in ten."
"Wait just a---.
CLICK.
"...No. You know what? No. This is me, putting my foot down. NO. ...Absolutely, positively not. Especially when you won't even tell me what you---no. Just. No."
RINGRING~
" -- WHAT DID I TELL YOU?!"
"That'cha didn't wanna know. And I ain't tellin'. Jeezus, stop bein' such a pussy. And bring a clean shirt." CLICK.
Re: THE PHONE CALL1stofficers_logOctober 16 2010, 05:49:19 UTC
...He had work to do.
Not only that, but he was waiting for a phone call. Even if it was an annoying one.
And on top of that, he had work to do. He wasn't like all these other people, free to gallivant wherever, whenever they felt the need. He was a professional, there were people depending on him, he was just days behind already from all this other bullshit---
“No,” he said, firmly, again - to no one, but still, just to say it. To himself. His fingers paused on the keyboard.
...He did owe Worth - that skeevy lowlife bastard - an apology.
“No,” he said, again, going back to what he had been doing. Worth had brought it on himself, he'd practically shoved his hand in Conrad's mouth---
...But he hadn't been the one who'd bitten down.
“Oh, God, FINE,” he growled, shoving back from the table - and knocking it rather hard into the wall. He scowled. He'd been the bull in the china shop these last few days, bashing against everything. It felt like being on the moon - nothing weighed as much as he thought it would
( ... )
Satisfied that the pushover was on his way, Worth went to the back room and unwound the bandage on his hand, eyeing the wound. It was red around the edges, more ragged than he would've liked, mebbe. It didn't look too bad on the outside, more like a dog bite than anything else -- "Heh." -- but inside ...
Frowning, he tried wiggling his fingers. Pain exploded across the back of his hand, and a string of swear words burned through the office. "Fuckin' goddamn it all ta hell an' back again!"
... a'right, so it was maybe more messed up than he'd previously thought. That only made callin' Conrad the right thing to do. He sure as fuck couldn't work like this, and he couldn't chance being permanently injured. He needed his hands.
It would only take a little of the poufter's blood to fix things up, anyhow. It wouldn't be a big deal, and then he could get back to his life.
"Suck it outta the --" Worth rolled his eyes, settling into a glare. "Christ, what if I was? Why're ya bein' such a pussy about somethin' that can't even hurt ya? Yer a fuckin' immortal, and yer bitchin' about a fuckin' knife that ain't even meant ta kill ya? Sweet holy FUCK, what more do ya WANT, Conrad?! Yeah, sure, yer life blows now 'cause boo-fuckin'-hoo, yer a damn vampire, but ya know what? Ya gotta move on sometime, 'cause the world ain't gonna wait while you blubber and cry and wish yer Ma would wipe yer arse for ya and pay all yer bills and fix every damn problem ya have!
"Now own up ta whatcha done, and shut the goddamned hell UP!"
The knife flashed out then, sharp and true as only a cutter's knife could be, and sliced right through Conrad's sleeve and into his arm.
"HOLYFUCKWHATTHEHELLOW---!" Conrad gasped, compressing the whole exclamation into a single yelping syllable. He jerked his arm back, a little faster than he'd meant to, banging his elbow rather hard into Worth's door. He clapped his other hand over the cut.
"Goddammit, Worth, I just told you NOT to do that---"
...But it was already starting to heal, he could feel it, and it sickened him a little to know that Worth was right, at least about the knife. It was not enough to kill him. It was not, apparently, even enough to hurt him for very long.
There was suddenly a pang in his chest a lot worth than the tingling slice in his arm.
Blood spilled from the cut, stained Conrad's shirtsleeve while he stood there, apparently in shock, then dried up. Worth couldn't see it dry, but he could see the blood stop much faster than it would've on a human. A few drops pattered to the dirty floor, to Conrad's shoe, and then there was nothing.
Worth didn't move. He wasn't about to suck blood from someone's clothes. That was beneath even his dignity, what little there was of it, and anyhow this blood wasn't the point.
He watched Conrad, knife still in hand and held down at his side, and waited.
A deep breath. A pause, while the thoughts in his head settled back into place.
"...Just, at least let me roll my sleeve up, for crying out loud. Perfectly good shirt."
He unbuttoned the cuff and rolled the ruined shirtsleeve back up above his elbow, on general principle.
"...And...God, let's make this a little less knife fight, could we?" It was halfway in his head to ask for the knife, because at least then he could kind of control what was going on, when and how it happened, because the idea of someone just cutting him was still upsetting even if they'd just proved it wouldn't really hurt. But he didn't think, honestly, that he could really take a knife to himself. Better to let Worth do it.
He held out his arm, hand fisted so it wouldn't shake...and looked Worth square in the eyes, as firmly as he could manage.
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"...........What?"
"Come... O... ver. I thought vamps had good ears."
"It wasn't a matter of not hearing you. What do you want? ...I'm busy."
"Ya got all night ta look at gay porn sites. Do it later."
"I'm not looking at gay---rrrgh. Look. This had better be important."
"It's damn important, all right. Think I'd call ya up justa ask how yer doin'?"
"I have no idea. I don't want you to call me at ALL."
"That makes two of us. Y'know how heavy this thing is? Just get over here. I ain't got all night."
"Heavy what---oh, God. No. Don't tell me. I don't want to know."
"Wouldn't show ya if ya begged me. See ya in ten."
"Wait just a---.
CLICK.
"...No. You know what? No. This is me, putting my foot down. NO. ...Absolutely, positively not. Especially when you won't even tell me what you---no. Just. No."
RINGRING~
" -- WHAT DID I TELL YOU?!"
"That'cha didn't wanna know. And I ain't tellin'. Jeezus, stop bein' such a pussy. And bring a clean shirt." CLICK.
"What the---ARGH~!"
Reply
Not only that, but he was waiting for a phone call. Even if it was an annoying one.
And on top of that, he had work to do. He wasn't like all these other people, free to gallivant wherever, whenever they felt the need. He was a professional, there were people depending on him, he was just days behind already from all this other bullshit---
“No,” he said, firmly, again - to no one, but still, just to say it. To himself. His fingers paused on the keyboard.
...He did owe Worth - that skeevy lowlife bastard - an apology.
“No,” he said, again, going back to what he had been doing. Worth had brought it on himself, he'd practically shoved his hand in Conrad's mouth---
...But he hadn't been the one who'd bitten down.
“Oh, God, FINE,” he growled, shoving back from the table - and knocking it rather hard into the wall. He scowled. He'd been the bull in the china shop these last few days, bashing against everything. It felt like being on the moon - nothing weighed as much as he thought it would ( ... )
Reply
Satisfied that the pushover was on his way, Worth went to the back room and unwound the bandage on his hand, eyeing the wound. It was red around the edges, more ragged than he would've liked, mebbe. It didn't look too bad on the outside, more like a dog bite than anything else -- "Heh." -- but inside ...
Frowning, he tried wiggling his fingers. Pain exploded across the back of his hand, and a string of swear words burned through the office. "Fuckin' goddamn it all ta hell an' back again!"
... a'right, so it was maybe more messed up than he'd previously thought. That only made callin' Conrad the right thing to do. He sure as fuck couldn't work like this, and he couldn't chance being permanently injured. He needed his hands.
It would only take a little of the poufter's blood to fix things up, anyhow. It wouldn't be a big deal, and then he could get back to his life.
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"Now own up ta whatcha done, and shut the goddamned hell UP!"
The knife flashed out then, sharp and true as only a cutter's knife could be, and sliced right through Conrad's sleeve and into his arm.
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"Goddammit, Worth, I just told you NOT to do that---"
...But it was already starting to heal, he could feel it, and it sickened him a little to know that Worth was right, at least about the knife. It was not enough to kill him. It was not, apparently, even enough to hurt him for very long.
There was suddenly a pang in his chest a lot worth than the tingling slice in his arm.
Reply
Worth didn't move. He wasn't about to suck blood from someone's clothes. That was beneath even his dignity, what little there was of it, and anyhow this blood wasn't the point.
He watched Conrad, knife still in hand and held down at his side, and waited.
"... well?"
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A deep breath. A pause, while the thoughts in his head settled back into place.
"...Just, at least let me roll my sleeve up, for crying out loud. Perfectly good shirt."
He unbuttoned the cuff and rolled the ruined shirtsleeve back up above his elbow, on general principle.
"...And...God, let's make this a little less knife fight, could we?" It was halfway in his head to ask for the knife, because at least then he could kind of control what was going on, when and how it happened, because the idea of someone just cutting him was still upsetting even if they'd just proved it wouldn't really hurt. But he didn't think, honestly, that he could really take a knife to himself. Better to let Worth do it.
He held out his arm, hand fisted so it wouldn't shake...and looked Worth square in the eyes, as firmly as he could manage.
"...just get it over with."
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