the marquis de Carabas (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mattersverymuch) wrote2013-08-02 12:18 pm
mattersverymuch) wrote2013-08-02 12:18 pm
1o ɂ spam
spam } victor creed
[There isn't any point in waiting. The marquis wants to start this now. In part because he trusts Iris's judgment, in part because she's right, he's bored, in part because he'd like to see if he can warp a monster into a different kind of monster even in this place with all of its bizarre checks and balances.]
[He follows Victor starting shortly after lunch, watching his path out of the cafeteria carefully. He knows Victor's habits; he knows most people's. And while he starts out following at a distance, he gradually decreases subtlety until he is abruptly waiting for Victor by the door to the CES. Just watching.]
private/video } dean winchester
[The decision is made abruptly. Succinctly. Like a light turning on, or off, or the breaking of a bone.]
[He sits on a flat stone step in his room, or what passes as his room; he sits on it like it's a throne, and he smiles for the camera.]
Have you ever heard the story of Puss in Boots?
[There isn't any point in waiting. The marquis wants to start this now. In part because he trusts Iris's judgment, in part because she's right, he's bored, in part because he'd like to see if he can warp a monster into a different kind of monster even in this place with all of its bizarre checks and balances.]
[He follows Victor starting shortly after lunch, watching his path out of the cafeteria carefully. He knows Victor's habits; he knows most people's. And while he starts out following at a distance, he gradually decreases subtlety until he is abruptly waiting for Victor by the door to the CES. Just watching.]
private/video } dean winchester
[The decision is made abruptly. Succinctly. Like a light turning on, or off, or the breaking of a bone.]
[He sits on a flat stone step in his room, or what passes as his room; he sits on it like it's a throne, and he smiles for the camera.]
Have you ever heard the story of Puss in Boots?
no subject
Interested enough to either think I'm stupid enough not to pick up on ya followin' me or to hope I would.
Most people that brand of fool end up havin' a proposition.
no subject
I knew you would. There was no hope about it.
[He doesn't really play around with hope.]
It's a loose proposition. I think we're very similar, you and I. I think you see some of that, and some of it - not so much.
I think we could learn from each other.
[Which is a lie. He can't learn a thing from Victor Creed, he's confident. But it's a seamless lie.]
no subject
[And that's all arrogance, arrogance backed up by over a century of proof -- no-one has ever presented anything worth learning, not even when backed up by a smile like that, no matter how many teeth he shows, because Victor is a creature of instinct, not learning, not when every lesson he's ever received was in the cruelty inherent in mankind -- but arrogance nonetheless.]
Unless yer talkin' about the color of yer insides.
Try again if ya don't want t'explore that right now.
[There's the hint of a growl underneath, a warning. Wrong answer, try again, but you only get one more shot.]
no subject
[And this smile is one of memory, of fond reminiscence, of knives slipped between ribs and razor blades under his fingernails - which he inspects, briefly and with a flash of apparently genuine concern. There's a fine line between appearing self-absorbed (which he is) and stupid (which he most certainly is not). But he won't present himself as a physical threat. The simple fact is, here and now, he's not one. If he were at home - but no.]
[That power sparking at his fingertips, it would be nice, but his real power's always been his tongue and experience.]
They're nice, but not amazing.
[His eyes flicker back and forth now as he explores his options. A beautiful mind, yes, but so blunted by violence as to be hardly recognizable. Violence, when wielded correctly, can be art, but only in certain contexts. It's never been to the marquis's tastes.]
[Think several moves ahead. He's arrogant, but defensive; no sign of any morality in particular, but that doesn't mean there isn't one. It just might be skewed, slightly shredded, worn, but it could exist. And self-preservation is a type of morality, too. Just because most people don't think it is . . .]
[He glances up, as though something's suddenly occurred to him. It hasn't. It continues occurring, unfolding in his mind, a flower of possibility. (With other thoughts trailing: Iris will owe me. Or Iris will learn not to make deals. Or Iris will suffer. Which he wouldn't mind, exactly. It might be temporarily annoying, but in the long run - it would be all right.)]
[Creed keeps coming back here. Right here. And Iris doesn't want him in here.]
If I'm being slightly more but still not completely honest, I have to admit I'm curious as to why everyone seems so adamant that you not be allowed in here. One of the only open spaces there is. Now, for me, who's used to cramped spaces - much more cramped than these - I wouldn't mind, which is why no one's bothered to restrict my access beyond - [He waves a hand.] begging the nearest life coach for the keys to the castle.
I can only conclude that even if a space like that isn't what you want more than anything, it's something you want. You can't beat access to a restricted area out of someone. Usually. And given my unfortunately involved history with your warden, I believe it's - unlikely.
[The implication, of course, being he has information about Iris. He does; whether that's what Creed latches on to is another question.]
Then, of course, there's the fact that I'm terribly bored of new inmates coming here, talking a lot, getting nothing done. You have the potential to go either way. [He shrugs elaborately.] Disembowelings aside, Mister Creed, you've got to be clever enough to realize making such a statement in your very first week leaves an impression that's incredibly valuable. Fear's such a good tool.
no subject
The fact that the other man's spotted his interest is less concerning. Spend enough time lingering around a place you obviously can't get into and it becomes pretty damn clear eventually.]
What makes you think that wasn't the point?
[It wasn't. But there's nothing to be gained in admitting as much.]
What kinda history?
[He wouldn't be volunteering it if they were entirely allies, that's far too obvious.]
no subject
[Which is a gamble - but of course, if it comes to that, if he absolutely must, he'll say who said it. (Iris.) Or make someone up. (Ned? Not terribly believable. Someone ruder.) Just because he doesn't want to be gutted doesn't mean he's not willing to risk it, as long as he has a backup.]
I'm not sure how much I believe that. But you weren't calculating, or not as much as you could have been. I'm enjoying imagining what you could do.
[The briefest of smiles, fond and parodic, and an elaborate shrug.]
A complicated history. Basic principles: you can't get something for nothing.
no subject
Quod eris sum.
Of course he'd been running scared. Anybody would in his position. Nobody likes to be confronted with the fact that they've ultimately got no control over anything. That they're just sliding down a slippery slope they couldn't have hoped to to stop in the first place. One you can see just over the horizon, one that creeps closer every day if you don't keep an eye on it.
One that looks an awful lot like a tiger being put down after it's got the taste for human flesh in its mouth.
But he's too stubborn to ever admit it out loud, and it does him no good tactically to do so; he'd been desperate when he'd let the runt in on the real way of the world for their kind. He's not that desperate now. Not with Romulus who the fuck knew how far away.
For now he only grins wider, at once teasing and challenging, his response a lazy drawl when it comes. As if the news amuses him more than it irritates. Honestly curious, because it's a thread he'll have to tie up, but he has his suspicions. There's one who knows, unequivocally. Would know. Might have spread the information if she thought it necessary, but even so it's a loose end. He doesn't like loose ends, they have a tendency of biting you in the ass later. So he tilts his head in question but doesn't give away that he might know, or at least not in any way that most might pick up on.]
That right. An' where'd you hear that from?
[The wolf could have known. Probably would have smelled it. Iris knows for sure, she'd said as much already.]
I'll grant you I wasn't at my best. Doubt anybody is their first day here.
[He files the nature of his relationship with Iris away for a moment. Think on it for a bit.]
no subject
[He considers this idea - of not being one's best at any point in time - and dismisses it. His intent is always to be his best. Just because lately he hasn't been--]
[Not important. On his first day, he was. But it's not in his best interests to say that.]
no subject
[He wouldn't have believed it anyway; Creed's universe is composed of him and everyone else. He is superior. His worst day is still better than everyone else's. He is unbeatable unless he allows it. Cannot be bested honestly more than once. It is a lesson learned and the future will be better. It will not happen again. He can afford to admit the fleeting lapse.
His words now are lazy, measured and unconcerned. He is curious, but not enough that he will lose any sleep over not having the answer. He has his own ways of finding out.]
no subject
[People other than him, of course.]
[He shrugs, smiles.] I'm not sure what metaphorical wares you have. Generally I deal in favors, but if all the favor will be good for is violence, it's slightly less use than a favor from someone of more versatile skills.
Then again, as I said, I do think you have more. Skills, I mean. Underneath it all.
no subject
But those with too much conscience, or too little, those for whom physical pain is nothing more than a fleeting inconvenience, who have dissociated themselves from the emotional ties the rest of the herd clings so tightly to, these individuals will never respond well to it. Some of them scream and cry and piss themselves anyway, much to Creed's continued entertainment, but they do not speak.
He thinks the Marquis may be one of the latter. Not that he won't squirm and scream like the rest, but he won't talk. Won't ever give a straight answer no matter what you do.
It's not necessarily a bad thing. There are ways of getting them to talk too.
The lazy drawl continues, stretching out across the space with the practiced ease of someone intentionally painting a disinterested picture. A cat turning its nose up at the food dish or a friendly hand because it can. To prove that everything is at its discretion.]
Maybe I do, maybe I don't. Been around for a long, long year, as the song goes. Be a disappointment if I didn't pick up a few things along the way. You tell me what kinda favor you need, we'll see if we can't work somethin' out.
no subject
[That's that. The answer is no - to telling, at least. That's not how the deal works, never has been. And perhaps it's a matter of timing, of waiting until Creed is desperate in one way or another (because no matter how much you might think you never will be, it happens to everyone) - waiting until then to deal.]
[He's promised Iris an attempt. Never a quick one. Some things require finesse. Victor Creed clearly requires a lot.]
It's a check for a certain amount, to be filled in later. You tell me how much this information is worth to you, I tell you how big of a favor you'll owe, when I'm in need. If you double-cross me, I stab you in the back.
[None of this is said with any urgency or concern. He's interested, yes. But this is just how he does business. It's not personal. It never has been and never will be, or at least that's the hope.]