paradisalost | out there beyond the wall

Entry tags:

out there beyond the wall

Who: Crowley and Faye
What: Seeing what breaks first
When: Sunday evening
Where: Room 1007
Rating: PG13?

This hanging in limbo thing was killing her. Which, was generally very true, but she clung to this fact with an especially determined strength now, as she made her way down the hall. Tugged along behind her was a little red wagon full of plants, packed neatly together so that no leaves wouldn't get pinched as they bounced along.

She couldn't keep up this uncertain tug of war anymore, so... she needed to go face the end of this particular rope. Fast-forward to reaching the end of it. That's what she told herself as she reached the door and hesitated outside of it, as if she imagined that it was going to magically open on its own.

She just focused on this one thought, this one goal, and refused to give any validity to those other, far more sneaky, ones-- the ones that she had to trick herself out of paying attention to. She wasn't here hoping for anything else but giving her plants back. She wasn't.

When she finally felt secure in this fact, she picked up her arm and knocked on the door.

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She rolled her eyes with a sigh, but there was more relief in that little gesture than anything else. The fact that his insults were becoming something close to normal caused a huge amount of weight to lift from her chest. Still, he she couldn't remove all of the tension from her voice.

"I didn't need protecting. I just didn't want to be around... their game, or whatever the hell it is."

"Funny, given the state you were in, I'd say protecting is the thing you'd need most."

He watched her a moment, before wishing up some cigarettes, handing one over to her. It would be a welcome distraction, after all.

Her eyes lit up a little when he passed one to her. She could really go for a light right now. She'd been too distracted to even think about it before-- same for the drink that she still hadn't remembered to refill.

"Yeah, well..." Her voice regaining that bitter sound, "had I been informed that he was around, it wouldn't have been a problem."

"I did get the impression that you weren't told."

A finger snap and the cigarettes lit up. This was better. This was much more normal.

"The afro shaving thing will definitely have to happen now, then."

Funny how such a little gesture was a regular indicator of the state of their relationship.

"You won't find me stopping you."

And then, she didn't really continue with anything. Just enjoying the smoke, and reluctant to open her mouth and potentially screw up the little bit of normalcy returning.

"I'll get him when he least expects it then."

He sat back, enjoying the silence for a while, only moving to reach for his drink. He swirled it contemplatively in the glass, watching the ice in it melt away.

"So."

She'd been kind of hoping that this half-conversation had been enough. She'd already said and heard things that she didn't want to, and was ready for a break.

These serious talks took a lot out of her. Did they normally take this long?

"So what?"

He knew her only too well. He knew if he let his drop now, she would escape it for good, that it would never be spoken of again. Now those words were out, as dangerous a move as it was to speak them, he knew he couldn't let it go back to nothing.

"Are we going to dance around this for another year and a half?"

"What do you mean?"

As if she didn't know. Keeping her attention on her cigarette as if that had a hope of saving her here.

He tilted his head, watching her sidelong. He should have known she'd do this. Someone, he really, really, really hated her a good amount of the time. ...Rather contradictory, it was one of the things he loved about her.

"I'll take that as a 'yes', then, shall I? We'll just go on pretending nothing ever happened. Wonderful."

"What do you want me to do, Crowley?"

It was sharp, but not angry. Just edgy, still dancing around edges that made her nervous... but she was still here. It was sharp, but it was a genuine question. The fact that she hadn't run yet was a sign in itself that she was trying.

He opened his mouth to respond, then...stopped. His brows knitted as he rested his chin on his hands, leaning forward on his knees.

"I don't know. Something. Anything. Tell me your not interested. Tell me to bugger off. Tell me I'm crazy. Something to show me doing something so stupid wasn't in vain."

"I'm still sitting here, aren't I?"

She still couldn't quite get herself to look over at him, wishing that her cigarette wasn't almost burned down to the filter.

Crowley, on the other hand, did look at her. Golden eyes watching her, trying to judge her mood even though he knew managing such a feat was impossible. Then, quietly;

"Indeed you are."

She spared a short glance at him, anything but high-strung nerves difficult to read in her face, before crushing out the end of her cigarette.

"I need another drink."

That, at least, brought the faintest of smirks to his face. That was a touch of normalcy, and he clung to it like a liferaft.

"Well, you're in the one place where there's plenty of that."

She toed her boots off of her feet, and tucked her legs up onto the couch. On one hand, it was a sign of her being able to relax just a bit, and a sign of her wanting to draw more defensively in on herself on the other.

Even though she could probably just do it herself, she dropped a hint for him to do it by nudging her glass toward him. Fill 'er up.

Which of the two it was a sign for, he'd just have to guess. Still, he refiled her glass, handing it over to her. He let the silence stay for a while. It made a pleasant change from all the shouting.

Settling back with the glass didn't come easily, but she faked it. Pretending to get comfortable, like she could trick herself into it if she looked the part enough.

The silence did help, in a way. She generally wasn't a fan of it, but it was nice to breathe after the verbal sparring.

Of course, the problem with silence was that neither of them were very good at keeping it. Crowley fidgeted for a few moments, before finally looking her way.

"So. You're still going to live in the town?"

Something about that question, and him being the one to ask it, caused a little pang of something she couldn't quite identify. For once, she almost wished he would put his shades back on. Apparently, she used that barrier almost as much as he did.

She almost defensively snapped that of course she was, because nothing had changed, but even she couldn't fool herself into that one. Something had changed, and it wasn't something small.

"...I still can't stand to be here. Not while they're playing their stupid games."

He knew, as much as he wished to hide behind his shades, not wearing them was the better way to get any sort of answer from her. It put them both out there in the open, with no way to escape.

"Fine. Then at least tell me where I can find this Vicious and end the annoying little twat."

"You can't 'end' him."

She chidingly spit it out, and then bothered to think about it-- both about the fact that Crowley was implying that he might actually hurt someone intentionally, and about how much she really meant what she said. In her mind, you couldn't end Vicious. The fact that he would just come back here aside, he was more this endless ghost to her than an actual flesh-and-blood man.

Crowley snapped his fingers, a spark of Hellfire coming to life between them.

"Do you want to take bets on that, Faye? I'm pretty certain I would win it."

Between what was already going on in her head, and what came to mind when he did that, she suddenly found herself exceedingly uncomfortable.

She reached out and lightly pushed his hand away.

"Stop it."

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