how could I possibly resist lbr here

[sneakyshoes]

[ <sub>he's very obviously all worked up, body tense, like a vicious jungle cat ready to pounce on the first sorry person to get caught close enough. he keeps walking in tense, straight lines and then hissing out breath between clenched teeth in a gruesome, evil little smile. eventually he'll talk, just. just give him a sec.

when he does, his voice is low and hoarse, his eyes flashing.</sub> ]

Come on then, come here. Every single one of you. Come come come come to Daddy. It's storytime, dearies, but I'm not the one telling it this time. No no no, I want your theories. Go on, then. From realistic to outlandish, I want them all. [ _{oh god and now he's grabbing the nearest thing to him. for the sake of narration, this is a camera, and the screen you're watching is now filled with his face. those psychotic eyes especially. a hissing whisper, because otherwise he'd shout:} ] How'd I do it? How did I come back from the dead?

[ _{daddy's h u n g r y. his pupiles are blown out wide, even if his eyes are almost slits, and he's practically spitting the words out now, much less man and much more animal.} ]

Give me your best shot.

Oh oh oh, [ _{leaning away from the camera now, tapping his forehead. it's as if he wasn't just rabid a half second ago.} ] that's right, that's riiiight, _{however could I forget} aaaaand speaking of- ohh~hh Mary? I'd love to give you my card. Bang-up shooting skills, dearest. Something I could definitely put to a job, even if your fashion sense is deplorable.

Comments

[sneakyshoes]

Little shocked you haven't yet, just from the boredom of it all. [ _{SIIIIGH no no no he has some ideas. he smiles very slowly.} ] Our new game's only just beginning. Can you feel it?

[aimsthegun]

No less boring in a grave.

[Most people might be be terrified by that smile, but Sebastian only sees promise.] Don't be daft.

[Of course he feels it. It's like watching the beginning of an electrical storm.] Conduit Street is burned, by the by. Big Brother got little too keen on me after your big bang.

[sneakyshoes]

Oh, who cares. Stuffy little hovel, wasn't it? I've never cared much for tradition, anyways. We'll find ourselves a nice new flat, downtown London. Big and shiny and bathed in white.

[aimsthegun]

[Snort. Good to see nothing has changed, Boss]

Hovels have their uses. Less worrying for the occasional smears of questionable origin when they come over your sparkling white-on-white.

[sneakyshoes]

You'll be able to focus long enough not to ruin my furniture, won't you?

[aimsthegun]

Depends on the furniture, Boss. I'm not making any promises.

[sneakyshoes]

I'd like you to rethink that stance, boy. I'd hate to have to kill you over something so trivial.

[aimsthegun]

[Death threat or no, the sheer ridiculousness of being called boy at his age leaves him huffing out a low bark of a laugh.]

Wouldn't that be something? All's said and done and I step out by way of interior decorating. [Not that he doubts Jim would make good on that threat, of course.]

But no thanks. I'll mind my p's and q's, I think, boots off the cushions and everything.

[sneakyshoes]

Would, wouldn't it. Silly way to go. Spilling coffee on the carpet snaps your neck faster than all those sniper runs... [ _{he giggles softly to himself.} ] It'd make quite an obituary.

[aimsthegun]

Insult to injury. I think I've at least earned a more impressive obituary than a snapped neck regardless of the reason behind it.

[sneakyshoes]

I can torch the bloody building if you'd like.

[aimsthegun]

And it's not even Christmas yet.

[sneakyshoes]

Do so like to keep you on your toes.

[aimsthegun]

No one better at it than you, Boss.

[sneakyshoes]

Oh, I try.