milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Autor leaves a delectable, fist-sized peach with the bar for the Emcee, writing a note: Vielen Dank für die Beratung. -A.

Later he curls up on the couch, adding length to a navy blue knitting project shorter than his forearm in one dimension but longer than he is tall in the other. Due to Margolotta's instruction, the boy's stitches are loose and even, for the most part. His hands are gentle as he absently moves the needles; he no longer stabs himself in the left index finger with every other purl. Nor does he get that odd, occasional dent in his rows.

But the project draped across his legs doesn't get near as much attention as the book propped up on his knees. The boy is consumed by the well-loved text, Fairy Tale: The Life of Herr Drosselemyer.

It might be difficult to interrupt him.

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Ava doesn't exactly put two and two together, but a suspicion she didn't have before starts to form.

(Nevertheless, she's not going to push. What did Rae say before? I'm sure he appreciated it.)

"Pushed them." Her frown deepens. "Like he pushed the vampire?"

"He threw a spoon at the vampire, so yes and no? In that I suspect he was testing limits of a different sort, to see if the myth of silver being a weakness was true," the boy says, adjusting his glasses. "In the other case, he was testing mental boundaries and abilities, so not necessarily a weakness upfront. I also suspect he was trying to discredit the person."

He cocks his head. "Did Rae mention the bit about the vampire?" Autor asks, noting mentally that Ava still hasn't answered his question from earlier.

"No." Ava shakes her head. "Dr. Lecter did-- he said he did it for a friend of his. Was that Rae?"

Autor's lips press into a thin line. "Probably, though she's no friend of his, despite his belief to the contrary," he says, wondering if he's betraying Rae by confirming this suspicion.

She takes a bite of her bread, then another sip of her soup.

"I got that sense."

Another pause.

"Anyway-- I talked to Rae, she told me that stuff, she talked a little bit about that Will Graham guy you mentioned, and ..."

She sighs.

"I guess I know what to think now."

"What do you think?" he asks gently, glad he didn't have to remind her to tell him again.

He swallows. "I mean, I appreciate your telling me. You don't have to, but..."

Ava frowns.

"The first time we met, you told me gossip was enough to get somebody in trouble. Will things be okay for you if I do tell you?"

"I'm... I think I can handle myself," Autor says, blinking. "I should be okay. And it's not gossip as far as I know, but your opinion on someone. Right?"

"Hard to know what counts around here," Ava says ruefully.

She swallows another spoonful of soup. Glances away.

Then, softer: "Okay. Yeah. I mean-- I think you guys are right that he's a bad guy. I don't think you could all be making it up."

"Good point," Autor says, just as rueful. He straightens his shoulders when she tells him her opinion, though, and nods slowly.

"And what will you do with this information?"

"What can I do?"

Ava's lips quirk, mostly down.

"We have a rule about violence, not about messing with people."

"Has he messed with you since the cupcake incident?" Autor asks, furrowing his brow. "And you can try to avoid him. Maybe. That's tough to do."

Ava shrugs.

"I haven't seen him since then. Maybe he got bored."

"That is highly unlikely," Autor says, wrinkling his nose. "If he got bored, he'd probably find some other poor soul to torment. He's stuck in the bar at the moment, as far as I know, so he can't have gone far."

The boy purses his lips, resting his hand on his cheek. "Have you figured out why he's so interested in you?"

Stuck in the bar.

That'd explain what Lecter told her about sanctuary.

She frowns.

"If he's just gonna find somebody else, maybe I should try to stay interesting as long as possible."

"He'll always have more than one person to torment," Autor says, shaking his head. "Antler-shaped plans. The best you can do is try to take care of yourself, and not give him ammunition. You do not want the brunt of his attention on you."

"You seem okay," Ava points out.

"Do I?" Autor asks quietly. "Dramatically warning people and blowing up on them afterwards is not exactly how I'd like to spend my days. I've devoted a ridiculous amount of time trying to avoid him and untangling his abuse when I couldn't."

He closes his eyes, breathing through his nose. "I don't know how else to tell you, Miss Ava. Don't mess with him, for your own safety and sanity."

Wow.

Ava's almost starting to feel sorry for the guy. She wonders if there's a way to tell him without blowing her cover.

... But there isn't. Not that she can think of right now.

"Okay," she sighs. "I don't know how I'm going to avoid him if he decides he's not bored, but-- okay. Maybe there's nothing else to do."

Autor feels, absurdly, that he should take her hand. He doesn't. "Having a flying carpet helps. Or, y'know, some sort of magical smoke screen with which you can make your escape."

Ava frowns.

"I guess that'd help," she admits.

"You don't have any magic, do you Miss Ava?" the boy asks, blinking and guileless.

"Uh ... no." Her frown deepens. "Though it'd be handy if I did."

Autor hesitates. "A-Are you sure?" he asks quietly, blinking again.

Then he drops all pretense, folding his arms. "Because I saw you systematically dismantling a tree with it. Also? Dr. Lecter mentioned it to me as well," the boy says, adjusting his glasses. "Why did you lie about it?"

Ava's eyes widen.

"Nobody," she says, serious, "was supposed to see that."

She shakes her head, one hand coming up to rub her temple. (Who exactly was that witness of Gene Hunt's, anyway?)

"Did he-- talk to you, about me?"