after the game, the king and the pawn go into the same box. (closed)

[emblazes]

Who: Giovanni Rammsteiner (ofobedience) & Keith (emblazes)
What: Giovanni and Keith being weird since Keith tried ruin Giovanni's life.
When: End of the event.
Where: Wyver.
Warning(s): None to speak of.



[Keith's on something of a cooldown -- not that there's a whole lot of trouble to get up to currently. Not without a certain amount of effort, at least, and he's about spent. Between the move, acquiring a surge of memories and the stress of very nearly losing several ac...quaintances (friends? god forbid), fighting with Lance and the uncertainty of his endeavors back in Olympia (including, but not restricted to handing Giovanni over), he's had a lot of weight on his mind. He's been forgetful, fatigued....

What way to uplift himself -- like Yoga or somesuch, than to volunteer to help hand out the cure for that disease; there was a process to making it, but he's no chemist, nor is he an apothecary and he'd rather not fudge up a limited supply of something. Helping to distribute it is fine. The immediately affected at first for sure; there ought to be extras for those who may've found themselves susceptible thereafter, or for people who'd just like to have it on hand just in case. What an inconvenient thing to let endure....

Now, while he's aware Giovanni's been freed, he hasn't made any form of contact. Soon...possibly. Then again, Keith's not the most sentimental person and Giovanni would probably prefer not to speak to him in the future, period. He's...not necessarily bothered by that -- you know, if that's how he'd like for things to go, but he does feel like he owes the guy; things were okay before shit hit he fan. Above all, it doesn't feel right to leave things in limbo.

As fate would have it, Keith's loaded a few vials into his side-pouch and was in the process of turning off for administration when he finds himself twisting around just in time to bump shoulders (or, bump his shoulder to Giovanni's arm. Keith's smol) with none other than his old stalker.

Which, of course, he'd accuse him of if this were an earlier date. Instead, there's a start of an apology, a hard swallow, and he's regarding Giovanni as though he's got two heads.]

Uh--

[That's it. That's his scripted apology.]

Comments

[emblazes]

[Keith is something of a perfectionist, and while its incredibly like him to pull back from a friendship before it can actually bloom -- which is objectively the worst thing I've ever written, not like that. Maybe he should've listened more, maybe it just seemed like Giovanni to turn traitorous. While he may not have been as...intense as Crowley had been regarding his capture, he's still felt shitty. He had killed the guy, sure, but it...

All wasn't really his fault. That much had been broadcast, confirmed by officials, even, superfluous as that was. He's staring at Giovanni like a deer in headlights. Apologize, say hi, say something.



Giovanni handles the whole thing. He looks from Giovanni's head, to his hands, to the ground -- lest he caused him to drop something, then back to his face. It's difficult to gauge his expression with those giant insecty glasses veiling his eyes.]

I wasn't expecting you.

[Here, there, in general.]

[ofobedience]

[Which is, of course, the whole point of wearing them-- to conceal any signs of honest emotion from the rest of the world, to make him seem more remote and impassive than he otherwise might. And the glasses teamed with a face that's permanently schooled into a mask of hard-angled smiles and infinite indifference makes it difficult to get at whatever might lurk underneath. Gives, as he intends it to, the appearance of there being nothing deeper (or softer) to get at.

And this moment is no different. He smiles that sharp and crooked smile, flashing teeth just a little too sharp to be called natural, and there's something vaguely threatening in the gesture yes but despite all that he's making no move to demonstrate his displeasure with his fellow Guard. There's less of it than one might expect, and more than that-- he's not about to put himself in a position that would call his character further into question.]

No, clearly not.

[His voice is wry, sardonic.]

You'd been hoping for my execution, no doubt. You must be terribly disappointed. Hahah.

[I mean sure, you weren't the one shouting 'break his legs', but you certainly hadn't been trying to prevent it.]

[emblazes]

[For what it's worth, while Giovanni hadn't ever posed a threat to him directly (barring that little blip, when, even then it was a stretch), he was always under the impression that he should keep his wits about him. Maybe because of his sharp edges, or maybe because of that odd history of his (not that he knows much of it; the fact that he'd killed before, sure. Keith had likely done the same many times over, but they're different); it's like a vegetarian spider addressing a fly.

Not the best example.]

I wasn't hoping for that. [Which indeed sounds foolish to say, doubly since...he was behind the direct efforts of his capture.] That's not what I meant, either.

[So far so good...........]

[ofobedience]

Really now.

[Again, the baring of teeth into something that vaguely resembles a smile, something manufactured and strange, as though he learned how to do it from second hand descriptions rather than a naturally evolving expression. He draws in a little closer to Keith, personal space now broached, and though he seems relaxed enough, shoulders loose and hands tucked into the pockets of suit trousers, there's a tension there, invisible, like the crackle of electric lights in some deep and forbidden underground place where few would want to find themselves.]

You seemed fairly convinced of my villainy, before. It's too late to change sides, didn't you say? You can't just go around doing whatever you want. You were certainly hoping for something.

[He doesn't ask what you did mean. Instead, only plays on that existing discomfort.]

[emblazes]

[There's an impulse to lean back, regain some of that space, but he does not. He'll hold his ground with a slight narrow to his brow; he didn't expect to be forgiven at first sight. Matter of fact, he'd been expecting something more...malicious than even this? It's only been about ten seconds, though, things could easily spiral one way or another.

Or not, considering his community service. That isn't something he's even inwardly using as a safety net. He could gloss his words over as something said out of anger -- his friends had been affected, after all. He's never been one to reign that particular sentiment in of his own accord; more of a personal problem.]

What did you expect?

[Quietly. He's not necessarily trying to defend himself.]

You know what it looked like.

[Like it was a betrayal of their...friendship...but Keith can't rightly use the f-word.]

[ofobedience]

[Something more malicious-- well. He's certainly capable of it, and the whispered promise of that capability shows in the sharp angles of Giovanni's body, the cutting smile that splits his face like a wound, the teeth that are just a little too sharp. There's threat here...but the onset of escalation has yet to come, perhaps won't. He's held pinned like a butterfly under glass by the fact that he's currently closely watched and guarded, rendered almost (almost) harmless by his own sick desire to belong to something, to ground himself against anything whilst Mother's six-fingered hands are unable to hold the leash. He has no intention of doing anything that will lead him to be cut off from the small threads of familiarity he's begun to form here. He's learned his lesson there.

And beyond all that, he doesn't care quite as much as he perhaps ought to, plagued as he has always been by a bonedeep detachment from anything that isn't the violent past that made him. It's hard for him to hold on to feelings of resentment or anger when they come from a source that, ultimately, barely matters.

Sorry Keith, but you're still in the 'barely matters' camp right now. Which is a step up from 'complete indifference', but not by so very much. He's certainly not prepared to use the f-word for anyone around these parts, yet.

That won't stop him from playing on your obvious discomfort, though.]

Oh, I'm well aware of what it looked like. And yet you had your chance to ask me whether the charges leveled against me were accurate, did you not? Your friend Lance used the opportunity to request an explanation. He didn't rush out, baying for my blood.

[A little closer still, almost touching now.]

You're quite a different sort, it seems.

i wanted to wait to see how the other thread wrapped up...a month seems good

[emblazes]

[It's almost like their very first meeting, only this seems all the more sinister -- for good reason. Maybe he deserves a beatdown for his ignorance, though Giovanni wasn't totally innocent either. He'll hold his ground, feigning some bit of poise.]

Me and Lance aren't alike.

[In fact, their discrepancies in cogitation -- judgement, are borderline problematic on even the best days.]

You're lucky he didn't.

[Rush out baying for blood, that is. His brows slope in form of the classic glare, mouth settled in a firm line. Different...sure. He's always been a little odd by comparison...]

(OOC: we can end our other thread on that note for sure! P:<)

It basically would have ended with Gio getting further roughed up and Crowley drinking his blood aha

[ofobedience]

[He can glare all he likes, maintain that scraped-together poise, but all it does is draw a laugh from Giovanni, quick and hard and without a trace of genuine mirth. He closes the small remaining distance between them, hand on Keith's shoulder now, grip firm but overtly restrained, a subtle reminder that whilst Crowley may have been capable of knocking him down a peg or two, he's still more than capable of ripping your arm right off, if he chose to.]

Lucky, am I?

[He smiles, kiss close.]

And what do you think would have happened, had it been you and Lance hunting me down that night, without the assistance of that overpowered oaf?

[Never mind that the answer is, he'd have done his best to slip away without causing either of them lasting harm. He of all people has no reason to resent anyone purely following orders.]

someone should stop crowley from doing those things...

[emblazes]

[The weight on his shoulder draws a grunt -- it isn't a painful grip, the contact just comes as a surprise. He and Lance doing the hunting? Realistically, their combined efforts may not have been enough to catch him. For argument's sake, they would've captured him and Lance would have proceeded with some question-improv. Even considering Keith's violent nature, something about Lance's presence keeps him in check.

First and foremost, he'll roll his shoulder. A silent (worthless) means of shooing him off.]

You already know.

[Overpowered oaf...]

You just said he talked to you about it.

[Dodging the question a bit, as the legitimate scene he's being asked to paint is dumb. Moreover, he's accidentally conceding to the fact that he'd have been complicit to his company either way.]

Giovanni strongly agrees

[ofobedience]

[Worthless, indeed. Giovanni's hand doesn't budge from where it's curled around the younger man's shoulder, their proximity maintained, something hard and unkind revealing itself in the angles of his smile. Teeth just a little too sharp.]

And you said I'm lucky he wasn't out for my blood, but we both know it's the other way around now, don't we.

[Although, once again, that isn't strictly true. He'd just have outpaced them, would have given them the slip, and violence would have been unlikely to occur at all, despite the way it clatters and jumps in him at every moment of every day. He wouldn't have harmed them, could it have been avoided. Hadn't really harmed Keith that night, despite that Keith had certainly had a go at harming him.

Quite suddenly though, he releases him, as though bored. Takes a step back. Still smiling.]

You should watch that snap judgement of yours. No good will come of it.

[Is it a threat, or just advice? Outward appearances make it impossible to say.]

[emblazes]

[He's not so quick to agree -- even inwardly. Giovanni's stronger than he is for sure, he's enhanced in ways that no amount of training could help...clinically speaking. But Keith isn't one to give up based on logic or facts, ha ha. There's a permanent glare, semi-anticipating something assaulty to brew between them, but...

The abrupt release hardly brings reprieve.]

The same goes for you. [It's a theme.] I'm not gonna let some homicidal maniac lecture me about snap decisions.

[On one hand, Keith was weirdly sympathetic to Giovanni at first. Maybe out of guilt, maybe out of some vague understanding that a lot of aliens (something he's assumed Giovanni to be) don't hold a similar brand of morals. Killing happens all the time. He's killed before, but not for a bounty -- not without personal reason. Everything he's done until now has been justified in the moment, which may be strange and creepy in and of itself.



Teenagers.]

[ofobedience]

[But Giovanni only laughs, quick and sharp. Gives the impression of perfect indifference. It's hardly the worst insult he's ever received - hardly an insult at all, really, almost a complement if anything - and he's left shrugging in the wake of it, just a moment before he starts to turn away.]

Suit yourself. See how far it gets you.

[And if you're not going to apologise to him for your bad behaviour with that big ginger brute - an apology he was never expecting - he's going to go about his merry way. Calls back vaguely over his shoulder, already making to bleed into the crowd.]

Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.

[emblazes]

[Strange alien. He'll make no motion to prevent him from moving freely, rapt, just in case he changes his mind, but he's quiet. He's already aware of his faults, but hearing them from a foe's voice isn't any bit encouraging in his endeavor to turn a new leaf.

Work to do -- suspicious in and of itself. A dismissive nod tilts his head. Maybe it's time to reverse-babysit.]