|| With These Ropes Tied Tight Can We Do No Wrong : Closed Log ||

[surfaceshine]

Who: Dean Winchester, Viserys Targaryen, and David Harris
What: David has a temper and a grudge, Dean has no allies and a smart mouth, and Viserys wants to be a spy.  I mean king.
When:  After this, this, and this, now with timelapse creeper stalking.
Where:  Level 6, somewhere quiet
Warnings:  Dean cusses a copious amount and David means to do him

Comments

[wakethedragon]

Viserys could have recited Dean's schedule like the names of the dragons he had once recited for his father. Day after day of the exact same routine. Then the two days came, and he had to find a way to keep an eye on Dean's door without having an expanse of Barge to use as an excuse, should he be confronted. He spent time in the gym, or whatever that room was called, observing people until he could ape what they were doing. He enjoyed punching the large, heavy bag and pretending it was a Lannister. It was very tiresome very quickly, especially when he had to keep running out to check on the idiot locked in his room. Why was he even in there

[surfaceshine]

Dean had set up that schedule carefully, giving Viserys solid reason to think he would be in certain places at certain times and noting in reverse where his shadow had a habit of showing up so he could plan his countermeasure and maybe get some information; that was all blown to shit now, of course, but Dean still knew how to confront someone poking around where they really, really shouldn't be. He glanced both ways down an intersection of hallway to try and catch sight of Viserys from the corner of his eye; once he was sure the other man was back there, he moved quickly down the staircase in an attempt to force his pursuer to pick up his pace, too, and maybe miss the fact that the young hunter had turned the corner to the right and then pressed himself back against the wall within range of the end of the stairwell.

Quietly lowering his duffel to the floor with his right hand, his left is ready to scruff the next person to appear from the stairs, if he can at all.

Elsewhere...

[sixthanimorph]

There's usually plenty of light in David's room, but tonight his lights are dim. His computer sits dark and ignored, as does his communicator and even his beloved television. There's only one device in the room that has his attention, and he sits hunched over his desk, turning it over and over in his hands thoughtfully. There's not a part of this strange alien machine he hasn't examined, but he's no closer to unlocking its secrets than he was when he first got it. David runs one finger over the grooved disc before popping it out of the device and lifting it closer. A sound of deep thought hums softly in his throat.

"Viserys asked me to get my wish and I got you..." David murmurs to no one in particular, tapping one finger on his desk in a metronome's steady rhythm. "But I wanted the blue box. You're something else. You're... a key."

How he knows that, David, can't say, but it sounds right. It feels right. A key to a lock he can't see, to a door he doesn't know, but a key just the same

[wakethedragon]

Viserys tiptoed down the staircase, but he had lost sight of the warden. Seven hells. He probably should have spent more time getting to know the Barge before pursing this fool's errand, but wishful thinking wasn't going to help him now.

He was as quiet as possible as he neared the bottom of the staircase, trying to look in all directions at once. People didn't just disappear into thin air, he had to be somewhere.