milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

adam young,
mordred

(no subject)

*Adam's sitting on a bench in the corner of the bar, his legs drawn up to his chest. He's sipping from a mug of coffee, and reading a book. If you ask, he might tell you what it is. Maybe.*

Summary: Adam and Mordred talk. Adam gets upset, Mordred takes advantage, and Adam Is Bad. Ooops.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Really?

*if he seems surprised it's because - well, he is.*

Have you ever read it? *now Adam flushes* I mean-

"No. I tried, once, but got bored. Too many big words." There's a grin, there.

"I can read, just not particularly well."

There are people around here who can teach you, you know. There was a young lady a few weeks back learning - she had a copy of Go, Dog, Go.

"Mercutio tried, we ended up just ~~flirting some more~~ getting bored."

He raises an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

*he nods*

Oh yes. It's the fascinating tale of Dogs that Go. She did a book report on it. Perhaps you could ask her for some help.

The eyebrow starts raised.

"If I see her, sure."

Her name's Kassandra. Very pretty, but I don't think she's quite all there.

"Ah, another insane one. Excellent. I seem to collect them."

*Adam can't decide whether to grin or frown.*

Collect?

"Well, kind of. The crazy ones seems to gravitate towards me. For instance, my mother is insane. So is my semi-adopted mother here. And my boyfriend. And most of my friends here."

"So, collect."

Well-

*well, what. Good for you? Good for them? That's nice? So sad? Adam sighs.*

That does seem like quite a collection.

"Indeed. No collections of your own?"

Of people? No.

"Of anything else?"

Well... I don't know. Games. Magazines. Toys, when I was younger.

Mordred looks amused.

He's more of a sadistic, manipulative bastard then the Antichrist. Way to go, Mordred.

What?

*he sighs again. Just because he could control his friends didn't mean he was collecting them.

Right?*

"I'm more of a bastard then you, this amuses me."

Maybe I'm just a more selective bastard. There are better things to do with powers than collect people.

He lights a cigarette, eyeing Adam as he takes a long drag.

"Collect 'em and throw 'em way," he says, half in sing-song. "Like a boy-prince with his toys."

Why would you throw people away?

"Cause I got bored with them, see?"

But they're people.

There is something not very nice in Mordred's eyes, something cold and cruel and sadistic.

Something to do with a fifteen-year-old boy stabbing an unarmed man as he slept.

"Exactly."

*Adam doesn't say anything, but the table starts shaking, and Mordred's hands are warming up - to a rather uncomfortable level.*