evowhisperer (
evowhisperer) wrote2014-12-17 04:18 pm
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IC Voicemail
*There's nothing but a long silence after the ringing stops. If the caller's been looking at their screen, there are plain black-and-white letters on display:*
Please leave a message after the beep.
*Beep.*
Please leave a message after the beep.
*Beep.*
Network Message; Video 2/2
*Send. Fuck--now he has his hat in his hands. There's nothing he can do about it now, especially when he means it: he doesn't care what else Ryuzaki says, he has to know.*
Network Message; Video
[Understanding, sympathetic smile, more natural and less gaunt than Lazarus' has ever been and might ever be.]
I'll tell you all about it provided you let me keep you company. It's always better with company. Be at a little bar in Gateway called "The Devil's Den" in 20 minutes.
Network Message; Text
*Mission as accomplished as it's going to be, he switches back to text.*
I'll need at least 30 to get there. Don't get your hopes up for physical 'company', this isn't a good night.*
Network Message; Text
I'll buy you a drink and you can talk to me. I'm such a good listener.
Network Message; Text
I'll message you when I'm there.
Network Message; Text
Network Message; Action
*The Devil's Den is neither 'little', nor a bar. It's a nightclub in a shady part of town, and Cesar can feel the throbbing music in his chest before he reaches the sidewalk outside. The bouncer doesn't look at his ID. Smiling women call out to him, but he doesn't look their way.*
*The smell of sweat, urine, and something tangy assaults his nostrils as soon as he's in, and the music is strong enough that his already-alcohol-loosened mind wants to shut down and just numbly take in the experience for a while. A few people pass him while he stands there, and after a few seconds he shakes himself, looking around.*
*The dance floor takes up most of the club. Flashing lights don't show much, but there's just enough for him to know that the dancing is frenzied, pitching and heaving with a violence that he doesn't think he could safely navigate. A bar that's lit from below is squeezed against the far wall, and platforms with strippers dot the area like posts in a pinball machine. Cesar keeps close to the wall as he approaches it, unable to keep himself from watching people as he passes. Two forms twining amorously in each other's arms. Three forms sitting or leaning docilely against the walls of a corner, apparently in a haze.*
*It's more or less the sorts of place the doppelganger had always implied he enjoyed, but Cesar had never really experienced the reality of it until now. He feels unsteady, like a drunk man suddenly pushed to stand in a rocking canoe.*
*He's at the bar. Where's the man he's here to meet?
Action
Welcome home.
[He grins, leaning in close until he's almost nose-to-nose with Cesar.]
Oh? You were pregaming. You drank to come here. I like that...
Perma-Action
*Cesar misses him.*
*He pushes his hand away.*
{I'm not in the mood for this. Let's talk. Where--bar?}
Perma-Action
OK. I want to hear about your mood, so yeah... bar. Let's go. You still like whiskey? Or is it more of a tequila kind of night?
[He turns, moving with a sauntering sway as he heads back toward the bar.]
Two shots of whiskey, and two of tequila. Put it on my tab.
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*Cesar slips onto a stool that's a few places away from an obviously under-the-influence couple, and he turns away a little so he won't have to see them. It conveniently has him facing a stool he's expecting the doppelganger to take. He waits.*
*The bar tender pours four shots with a skilled flourish, placing them on the counter one by one. They form a perfect line; the shot-glasses shine with light from the counter's glow. Cesar reaches for a glass--tequila, probably?--and holds it in his hands.*
*His eyes flicker in the doppelganger's direction, and that's all he needs to knock it back without preamble.*
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Already better, right?
Do you want to start talking, or shall I? You probably have so much on your mind right now.
[He practically has to shout to be heard over the pulsing bass.]
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{I'm not here to have a heart to heart. You said you would tell me about--twins. Your original's. Please finish the subject.}
*'So Cesar can hurry up and leave' goes unsaid. Cesar avoids his gaze, unwilling to be friendly but unwilling to actually leave yet. Is this how pathetic he is, now? That he's crawling back to his ex-lover's copycat for trace morsels of the man's life when he won't even ask the man for them himself? It's shameful. Cesar reaches for another shot.*
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[He twists a finger at his temple, whistling in a "cuckoo" intonation and widening his eyes exaggeratedly.]
I think she helped Tony out a lot and their love blossomed. They started fucking pretty shortly thereafter and when you're humping that much, because you're out in the middle of nowhere surrounded by farm animals, well... accidents happen. And sometimes, they're accidents that young fertile people just get ecstatic about.
They're going to be crackers, you know. Completely crackers. Poor kids. Good thing you got out in time.
[He nods toward the remaining shots, taking the other whiskey one.]
Well, drink up, you must want to.
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*Cesar puts the glass down, nodding once and rising to his feet. Oh--hm. Two shots taken on top of a system that was already well on its way to intoxication hasn't done anything for his coordination, and he knows he's probably going to sway the whole way home. Oh well.*
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Let me remind you that you wanted to know this stuff. It sucks, but... with the way she was throwing herself at him I guess you can't blame him. He's not like us. He's barely even a person. He takes all his cues from people who he assumes know better.
[He presses down on Cesar's shoulder when the man staggers to his feet.]
Sit, stay. Just where do you have to be, anyway?
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*Cesar sits back down heavily, not really having the balance to fight the push. He shrugs at the continued touch, sending the copy a hooded look as he starts rising again. The instant he's up he turns to sign.*
{I'm not here for you. You're a copy. Shouldn't you be ashamed of yourself to be so hungry for your original's castoffs?}
*...Hah. Cesar doesn't even care how much that was a self-effacing dig at himself. At this point he just wants to hurt the clone enough that he lets Cesar leave without further cajoling. Cesar's mouth curls in a little sickle of a smile, and his teeth glow in the black-light.*
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Don't forget. I got there first, and you're here now because I told you to be, and it's Ryuzaki. Not "copy." Don't forget it.
[He stands, now, pressing closer, looming over the seated Cesar and fingerspelling the name.]
R-Y-U-Z-A-K-I.
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{You thought you were special. Did you forget how I dropped you as soon as I knew what you were? You're not calling the shots, and even if you were first, you weren't last. You didn't last.}
*Ha ha. He made a pun. The humor in his chest is sick, like he's cutting his heart out to fling blood in Ryuzaki's face. It's worth it, though--he wouldn't trade this grim edge of satisfaction for anything.*
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This is my friend Molly. Hello, Molly.
[It goes on his tongue, and then he holds the other tablet in his open palm.]
I get it. You're mad at Lazarus. You want to take so much out on him. Why don't you take this other tablet, we can get a private room, and you can do whatever you want? Call me Lazarus if you want. Hit me if you want. Try to break something. That's got to appeal to you just a little bit.
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*He'd be lying if he said he wasn't tempted. He's never tried it before, but he's heard--... well, it'd still be a poor idea, right? Probably. Besides, this is Ryuzaki, and the man had been on the verge of punching him just seconds ago. Since when was 'restraint' in the man's vocabulary?*
*Cesar doesn't reply with signs. He just sits there with the tablet, giving Ryuzaki a look that speaks for itself.*
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It is as fun as you've heard. Not addictive. Not dangerous. I can't say the same for the other activity I'm proposing. Those private rooms? Anything goes, and I do mean anything.
In addition to not crying and curling up in a ball and calling you by your dead brother's name, I actually can take a punch now. Why don't we check them out, turn this nightclub into a fight club of our own and blow off some steam?
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*The tablet is brought to his face--but he just presses it against his forehead, staring moodily at the drink display. This wasn't the way he wanted this to go, but that tablet is a twist, and it's promising a happy evening. He's heard the stories--happy, surrounded by friends, and maybe even able to just forget his problems and enjoy life clutching lustfully in Ryuzaki's arms. 'No more crying and being mistaken for a man Cesar got killed' indeed. He might even be able to forget that, if he tries hard enough. Would that really be such a terrible thing? He could go back to work the next Monday and forget any of this ever happened. Lazarus would deal with Blaise. All his problems would go away.*
*His face is relaxing, and he gives the tablet a distant look, chewing on the edge of his lip. It's a bad idea. This is a bad place to try anything new like this, especially with--His eyes move to Ryuzaki, giving him a lazy, sidelong look.*
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He glances right back at Cesar, meeting his gaze unflinchingly.]
Our little secret. What happens here tonight stays here. But you can't stay where you are, hurting like that... I don't see any point existing that way when you have a choice not to.
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*The Molly traces an invisible line down his face, towards his mouth, and leaves when it touches a half-smiling corner. He clasps the tablet in a closed fist: it's a goodbye to those fleeting, drunk-glowing dreams of a euphoric evening. He'll take it later, maybe, but not here, and not now.*
*Maybe the doppelganger really does want to see him happy, maybe he doesn't. Either way, though, there's nothing about this that was ever just meant to be about Cesar. Ryuzaki's just saying anything to sooth him, anything to coax him into letting them start something he'd been so determined to stop.*
*He'd almost let it happen again, hadn't he? Cesar rests his cheek on the closed fist, smiling at Ryuzaki. The clone had tried so hard. The room is rocking gently around Cesar's head, and he feels warm, and impulsive, and he still didn't do it. Acidic resentment bubbles up in his chest, and he straightens with abrupt poisonous energy. He's not getting a good evening, and he'll be damned if Ryuzaki gets away better off than him.*
{Did you know that he's better than you in bed?} *Cesar's eyes glitter, and he turns so that his back is to the counter, freeing his hands properly. The Molly is still pinched between two fingers.**
{You're not my first in everything. He's good enough I could come twice every time, even without trying.}
*Fuck if he knows or even means what he's saying. All he wants is to see Ryuzaki's face blanch in fury, to see his eyes flash and his oily smile disappear.*
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