September 22, 2010
Doppelgangers.
“Oh, is it the old ‘I just looked away for a second’ routine again?”
“What do you mean, ‘again’? And no, that wasn’t what I was going to say at all. Do you have any notion how hard it is to keep track of someone who can walk through walls?”
“Let me think of how to phrase this… YES.“
“Your ward is sane. He hardly counts.”
“Arguably. Are you looking, or are you just gonna stand here and make excuses?”
“I can’t see on the wind, so maybe you should shut up and help if you’re going to help me.”
“I could just leave.”
“Oh, sure, and leave your ward behind, too. I’d like to see you explain that to him when he shows up again.”
“Hey-”
“Not really a recipe for marital bliss, that.”
“You-”
“At least I’m not married to my ward. Does the phrase ‘conflict of interest’ ring a bell?”
“Not like not being married makes any difference…”
“…What?”
“Never mind. Are you bothering to look at all or what?”
“I told you…”
“Yes, yes. Well?”
“I already checked the rooms, I told you that! I can’t see them if they’re hiding in the walls!“
“I see you two are getting along splendidly.”
“….”
“….”
“Where’ve you been?”
“Keeping an eye on my scapegrace doppelganger. Where else?”
“You didn’t think to, oh, leave a note?“
“Did you need one?”
[snickering]
“Shut up, Victor. It would’ve helped, is all I’m saying.”
“So where is Yehon, anyway?”
“He’s been in the wall behind you for the past twenty minutes.”
“…Thanks for telling me.”
“You’re welcome.”
[some scuffling, and incoherent threats, and the sound of someone being dragged off bodily]
“…Was I ever that bad?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks. I don’t remember you ever pulling a stunt like that, though.”
“What, hiding in the walls so I could stare at your ass?”
“Yes.”
“Hm.”
“Nathan…”
“Well, not just your ass.”
“Nathan.”
“No need to get embarrassed. It’s a very nice ass.”
“Why, you-”
“I could take my clothes off, and you could ogle me if you like.”
“You do this on purpose, don’t you?”
“Hm?”
“…Never mind.”
April 10, 2008
After Being Jumped by Bandits.
“Do you know,” Yehon said conversationally, “what happens when you pick up a desert demon in the middle of a … heh … highly-charged situation?”
The bandit opened his mouth to respond. A deafening crack left everyone’s ears ringing. The bandit holding Yehon collapsed; the others squeaked and ran.
“Idiots,” Yehon muttered dismissively. He looked over at Victor, who was still on the other side of the road. “Something wrong?”
“I’m not stupid enough to go near you while you’re throwing off sparks, loon,” the siren said, polishing his glasses.
The Madman.
The orderly came back and escorted me down a dank hall to a room with a thick iron door. I followed, trying to ignore the faint echoes of the inmates’ cries.
The orderly stopped, gripped the iron door handle, and looked at me. “The patient is already inside. After you enter, I will lock this door after you; someone will come to let you out in an hour. Do not touch the patient; do not undo his bonds. It would be wisest if you simply remain in the other chair.”
I rolled my eyes, thankful that he couldn’t see that. “I had no intention of going near him. I simply wish to ask him a few questions.”
The orderly looked askance at me. “You can try, I suppose, but the patient is rarely cooperative.” He opened the door and waved me in.
I walked purposefully towards the empty chair, barely noting the sound of the door closing. I took my time arranging my document case before sitting; I heard a faint sound that could have been a laugh from the other chair. I sat, and finally, deliberately, looked at the man I’d come here to see.
“You are very pale,” he said once I looked at him. He tilted his head to one side. “Like a glow-grub or the white minnows that live in the caves. Did someone leave you in a dark place too long, and leach the color from you?”
“I was born like this,” I said, keeping my voice level.
“Oh.” He tilted his head the other way. “You are not a vampire, though.”
“No,” I agreed.
“Hm. Do you have a name?”
“Victor Hunter.”
“Ah. Come to kill me, then?”
“No. I came to ask you some things.”
“I will not answer.”
I had expected difficulty; I had not expected a flat refusal. “Why not?” I demanded, more sharply than I intended.
The inmate’s polished-gold eyes narrowed. “I will not answer anything for anyone while I’m kept in this hellhole.”
I stare at the other man for a tick or two. Finally, I asked, “And if I can get you out?”
He may have smiled; the room was too poorly lit to tell. “Then I will give you anything you ask for.”
We sat in silence for the rest of the hour.
