[Incomplete and Open]

[iamwesker]

Who: Wesker and whoever drops by (OPEN)
When: today
Where: Claire and Leon's doorstep
Rating: PG?
Warnings: None
Summary: Stuck in the body of an eight year old pink haired girl, Albert Wesker is not a happy camper.

Comments

[flawedintent]

Damien had decided that despite his wings, flying home from work would be a bad idea. He hadn't yet much of an idea how to use them, and was not willing to risk crashing into something or falling from god knows how high.

Despite Max's powers, he wasn't exactly willing to test the extent of her durability.

It was odd as well for his mind to be so quiet. He hadn't experienced this level of silence in over a year now. No Cosmas at all. It was glorious in some ways, unsettling in others. As much as he loathed his other personality, it was still something he had gotten used to.

As he continued walking, he spotted familiar pink hair. And, not knowing yet of the details of all the body switching going around, he automatically assumed that it was the girl in question.

"Yachiru," he greeted to the girl he had only seen a day previous, walking over. "How are things?"

[flawedintent]

As much as Damien did want to poison Wesker, the man's paranoia was...well, nothing but paranoia. Besides, if he wanted to hurt the man, he could hurt him in much easier ways than poison at the moment.

However, it wasn't worth it. Sooner or later, he knew that Wesker would end up paying for his cruelties. He wasn't a vigilante, even with his new (albeit temporary) powers. And so, all he could do was wait and hope.

"Mm, no, just thinking that enjoying a cookie might lessen your evil or something of the sort," he said, almost teasingly. "Well! I'll be heading home now. Do take care."

And with that, he waved, walking off. Of course, until he was out of sight, he would not let his guard down. But he had a good feeling that if Wesker hadn't tried anything serious yet, nothing would happen now.

[iamwesker]

"You can't say later on that I didn't warn you," Wesker said, eyeing the cookie still and staying back from it although he spoke to Damien. Wrapping his arms around his legs, Wesker's small fingers dropped down to the doorstep, picking up the pebble he had been kicking earlier.

He threw the pebble at Damien's head as he shivered and stood up. The snow might be gone, but it was still cold. Grumbling to himself, Wesker left the cookie where it was and headed back inside the house... most likely to try to make himself some lunch until Claire got mad about the mess and did it herself.