BECAUSE IT'S PEPPER'S BIRTHDAY...

[goateese]

the CLIFF/SHAG/MARRY meme
(With a twist)



The RULES
❯ Post with your character
❯ Comment to other characters with three options
❯ Answer with who you'd cliff, shag, or marry
❯ AND HERE IS THE TWIST: Then act out those options with the characters!
❯ HAVE FUN and nobody is ever late!

Comments

[viced]

[ Christ, of course he was waiting for him, the shock of the porter and the fucking silence in his head, giving him plenty of thought power to devote to a memory drifting into the forefront for just a moment, long enough for him to shake his head, and only then realize what the weight pressed into his hand was.

He looked down, blearily, his fingers not even tightening around the damn thing. ]

The fuck? I don't want this. What the shit are you doing here?

[waiting]

[ He'd been prepared for the disorientation, and he'd rehearsed the words he'd planned to say over and over again. They still stuck in his throat before he managed to choke them out. ]

I killed you, remember? I figured it was fair to give you the chance to return the favor.

[viced]

The fuck!?

[ Oh, he remembered. He remembered getting him to do that, too. Somehow. He'd done it with all the careful consideration he'd needed, laying out the pieces, making sure his friend knew that this was the only way.

And had it worked, things should be able to be cleared.

They should make this work, now. ]

I don't want to fucking kill you! [ He paused, a concentrated moment, like his brain was finally catching up. ]

Why the hell did you kill me!?

[waiting]

[ The why of it he'd been hoping to avoid, explaining himself and his actions, and his jaw tightened. Biting down on the I'm sorry and It was the only way and trying to get his heart to harden, hands reaching down to wrap Mitch's fingers around his weapon, fitting fingers to where they belonged. ]

It doesn't matter. [ The look in his eyes, though his hands were steady, was desolate. Pushed too far past breaking point, asked to do too much. Killing Mitch hadn't just been about doing the right thing, but giving up the faith he'd had. A transgression he couldn't forgive himself for, and the kicker was that after all that he'd still lay his life down if he asked. ]

If you're not gonna do it, I will.

[ A life for a life, and then he could call it quits and he'd be done, whether he came back or not. It was one last failure he couldn't live with.

Sometimes, Bradbury's sense of the right thing to do was completely at odds with his sense of self-preservation. ]

[viced]

Are you--

[ He turns his head, giving him a look that was coupled disappointment and annoyance. He'd thought Bradbury was of stronger stuff, maybe. Or maybe he was just not expecting him to bow down so readily. Either way, he shook his head.

It was unfortunate he didn't have his powers. ]

Jesus Christ, I came back, didn't I? Bradbury, don't fucking go all martyr on me right now, we have fucking work to do, don't we?

[ His death has been opportune. The only way to save Mitchell Hundred had been to kill Mitchell Hundred. He'd known it, but he'd never asked Bradbury to do it, instead leaving the evidence in such a way that it couldn't be ignored. The City was rife with post-death sympathy for the politician, and now he was already zeroing in and focusing on that, instead of taking a moment to breathe. ]

[waiting]

[ He still has a hand on Mitch's back, but when Mitch gives him that look, he jerks it away -- a frown crossing his face, coupled with disbelief and confusion. ]

That's it? We have fucking work to do? You don't even-- [ He hadn't expected melodrama, sure. Mitchell Hundred would always put work first. But to just not give a shit? He'd bitched Bradbury out for far lesser transgressions, so it doesn't make sense--

Except it does, and the moment the realization hits is obvious from the way his gaze goes from worried to flat and cold in the span of a heartbeat. ]

--you knew I was going to do it. [ His voice sounds flat to his own ears. ]

[viced]

[ He didn't think Rick was going to take long to pick up on it. Even so, the look on his face spoke lengths that he wished that he'd remained ignorant for just a little while longer. He frowned, feeling a heaviness settle over him, the cold, wet blanket that draped over him, and colored his every motion, everything he did. ]

I had a feeling, yeah.

You thought it needed to be done, so I wasn't going to stop you.

[ Hell, if anything, he would have encouraged that, but Rick didn't need to know that. Instead, he just gently lifted a shoulder. ]

Pal, I can't focus on that right now.

[waiting]

You're a goddamned asshole.

[ He pushed away from Mitch, unsteady on his feet, gun sliding back into its holster. The guilt had been for nothing; the agony of indecision had been pointless, because it was an outcome that was inevitable. It wasn't what he'd been made to do that got to him, but the face that he'd been deceived. All Mitch had to do was ask.

Instead, he'd used him. But that was what people like Mitchell Hundred did, wasn't it? ]

Fuck you.

[ Inevitably, when the forgiveness and regret kicked in, he knew he'd wind up at Mitch's feet again. But right now? Walking away was the only thing that kept Bradbury from punching Mitch. The weight of the revelation left him numb. There should be anger, and there probably will be, later, but right now the only thing he could feel was the need to get away. ]

[viced]

Yeah, I know.

[ He looked down at his hands, eyes closing slowly to measure his breaths, but he was struggling. It wasn't like he didn't have time to concentrate. If anything, his thoughts were all he had. He shook his head, turning slightly to watch him go.

Hoping he'd go. Because he knew that he needed to get out. He hated that he had to do it, but there were things that he had to focus on, a purpose that was more important than just his job, or anyone's happiness. Anyone's willingness to work with him. He would do what he had to, no matter who got hurt in the process, even if he hated every moment of it. ]

[waiting]

[ He should leave, of course, but like he sensed the weight of Mitch's gaze on his back, his steps slowed, and stopped. The tension that held his back rigid hadn't dissipated; if anything, it was more there, keeping the material of his jacket taut across the back of his shoulders.

Bradbury cursed, softly.

He turned, wheeling around and reaching down to haul Mitch up by the front of his shirt. It wasn't often he turned his strength to anything that wasn't protecting Mitch, but he did it now, even if his hands shook and his brow was furrowed so deeply one had to wonder if it would ever clear. ]

You're not getting rid of me that easy. [ He hissed the words a hair's breadth from Mitch's mouth, voice raw. ] The least you owe me is a fucking explanation.

[viced]

An explanation? Pal, I did what had to be done. That's all. No explanation necessary.

[ Truth be told, he owed Bradbury more than just an explanation, and he knew it. But that was the human part of him, the part that said that he had to maintain relationships. The part of him that craved interaction and humanity. Mitchell couldn't be that man, any more than Bradbury could let a sleeping dog lie.

He should, after all. Just leave it, and leave, because that's all there was to it. That's all that he could tell him, was that it was necessary. The machinations of the Mayor ran deep. Threads that locked and interlocked, and intersected, and he maintained them all, until someone came and stepped on the spider web. Someone like Bradbury. ]