milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Nick comes down from his room. He's cleaned up since...the last few days. He looks a little lost, but his clothing and hair and appearance is otherwise impecable. He nearly stumbles on the way to the bar, eyes staring at anything but the actual environment around him. He sits. He stares.

He orders some food and begins to sip.

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"Is that Hell?"

"My world's verson of Hell."

"You're here now."

Another laugh, this one quieter but still brittle, so brittle.

"Yeah. Guess so."

Nick kisses him softly.

"That means something."

His tea has gone cold.

For some reason that matters.

Alex is confused.

Nick stays there...and is confused as well.

*Meg comes downstairs, looking tired and dismal and depressed.

Meg staaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaares.

And then slips up behind them, very, very quietly, quiet as a small white rat -

And, with all the force she can muster, punches Nick as hard as she can in the side.*

Nick blinks. He sways a little but doesn't move much.

"Hello Meg. I was expecting something similar. How are you?"

Alex glances at Meg, then back down at the cup of cold tea.

"'lo, Miss Giry."

How am I? *Meg's voice is a harsh squeak.*

How am I. Let's see. Well, I've just found out one of my friends is dead. One of my other friends is a slave, and one of my other friends beat someone to a bloody pulp, broke every promise he made to me and is now apparently involved in taking advantage of someone's emotional abuse -

Let's see, I'm feeling jolly this morning!

Nick blinks.

"Who died?"

Anthy's isn't any news and he's well aware of the trouble he's in. Though that last bit...

"And what're you talking about?"

A friend. *Meg's voice is flat.* No one you know.

And what am I talking about -

*Her fists are clenched.* Va te faire foutre, Nick, just - va te faire foutre, I don't know what you think you're playing at but whatever it is -

Nick blinks.

"What am I...I'm not playing at anything, Meg. What are you talking about. But...I'm sorry for your friend. Whoever they are."

He's utterly guileless. He has no idea.

*Meg snorts, and looks very tempted to hit him again. Her voice is cold and clear and precise.*

I thought, Nick, that you were above taking advantage of someone's fear in order to hurt them. I thought I could trust you to have compassion. And I thought that you had enough brains to overcome your rage, every so often.

Apparently I thought wrong.

Nick blinks before looking rather upset himself. He strokes a hand down Alex's arm before pulling away a bit to look at Meg.

"What fear? What are you talking about? As for what I did to Alex..."

He looks back at Alex and something is in his eyes, something sad and yet...possessive. Caring. Something he won't say.

He looks back to Meg.

"I apologized. And I helped him regain his sight. And...I can't do anything else. Other than..."

He looks back at Alex a moment and then to Meg. He actually looks resolute.

"I care about you, Meg, as well you know...but you can think what you like. I wasn't right. I know that. I've...done what I can to make up for it, and...I can't go back and change it even if I wanted to. And excuse me if I'm not exactly...the most...thoughtful person right now. I'm doing what I can."

He looks at Nick's hand on his arm, then at Nick and Meg. His expression is unreadable.

You apologized.

How lovely. How compassionate.

*Meg turns away and stares at a wall, because she doesn't trust herself to look at either of them.*

Being hurt does not excuse you hurting others. That goes for both of you.

Nick glares.

"What am I supposed to do, huh? What can I possibly do? You're going to tell me that you've never done something you regretted? That you've never...never done something out of pure emotion and then looked back and realized how horribly wrong you were? I know...perhaps better than you, Meg. And I hate myself for it more than you'd know."

He steps away from Alex before nodding to him.

"We'll talk?"

There is something in the way he says it. Hopeful? Sad? Loving?

There...there it is.

"I'm well aware of that, Meg. I didn't give it as an excuse...merely an explanation since...it's not as if I make a habit of such things."

He runs a hand down Alex's arm again and looks at him for a moment before turning to Meg.

"We'll talk."

And in a blur of motion and a slight gust, he's gone.

*Meg looks at the spot where he was, and then at Alex, and tries very hard to remember the right English words, because she feels like she needs to use them.

And, in a voice that's dead, says:*

You have the most fucked up taste of anyone I know.

*And then turns and walks off, because she doesn't understand, she doesn't understand, and since she can't dance, she hasn't got the time, going and thwacking at something for long long long hours is very nearly as good.*

And Alex starts to laugh again, soft and brittle and nearly hysterical, and goes back to his table where he can sit in the semi-dark and laugh and half-sob and pretend that he understands what's going on in his own mind.

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