[He watched it rise towards the surface. Wasn't that just Silco's theme too? With his own life. With his near death. With Shimmer. With the Chem-Barons. Ready to rise to the surface? Like a fevered dream, those faint silken words could slither through his mind, entrapped by the fear of a father watching his daughter face down a monster and losing epically.
But it didn't slide passed those thin tightly smiling lips. No, Silco wasn't so easily baited on such an important and fundamental subject. After all, when had Silco ever stood higher than Vander? Stood over, yes but never higher when they were both active.
His own downfall was fresh enough to sting, seeing and experiencing what Silco's monsters would do to the Lanes, to the Undercity, to their people. A tool yes, but for an oppressed people desperate to feel powerful, he knew it would be a catalyst for interpersonal wars. The Chem-Barons had always been an entity of power with their gangs and their collections, but with Shimmer? That person that held the bigger monster would rule the underground.]
You so certain? You've spent a few encounters putting knives in my body. What's another?
[He had the healing injury on his left forearm to prove that point, bandaged though it was. Yet, as Silco leaned in, he shifted his cigarette to the corner of his mouth so there was no actual risk of a burn on the older man's face, and he refused to give ground on that point. No, their faces and bodies pressed closer together; he was aware of the smell of Silco's breath, the warmth from the man's cheek on his own, the shift of those legs under his weight.]
And what little lie will you weave to Jinx to explain my permanent erasure, hmm? She called you a liar on the train; we both know she's sensitive to untruths. [It was his turn to lean forward, his forehead resting on Silco's, the sides of their noses sliding against each other, lips a whisper apart. He felt the heat of their cancer sticks of choice.] Don't think I haven't set up people who will provide her my last words in writing. She's my daughter too.
[Vander operated differently than Silco. He invested in people, plans and opportunities. He brought people together, made friends, resolved interpersonal conflicts at times. His social and emotional intelligence rivaled his physical presence when he needed it to; he knew how to play the game to rival Silco. Unfortunately, Silco's game was shorter and easier to put in place; Vander was forced to play the long game to pull people in; he had to find and match agendas, personal interest and emotional investments.
So he remained exactly where he was, a physical presence holding back and holding together the layered reasons he wanted out of this apartment building in the first place.]
Why? Your legs going numb. Afraid someone might see us together and assume we have some kind of romantic attachment.
no subject
But it didn't slide passed those thin tightly smiling lips. No, Silco wasn't so easily baited on such an important and fundamental subject. After all, when had Silco ever stood higher than Vander? Stood over, yes but never higher when they were both active.
His own downfall was fresh enough to sting, seeing and experiencing what Silco's monsters would do to the Lanes, to the Undercity, to their people. A tool yes, but for an oppressed people desperate to feel powerful, he knew it would be a catalyst for interpersonal wars. The Chem-Barons had always been an entity of power with their gangs and their collections, but with Shimmer? That person that held the bigger monster would rule the underground.]
You so certain? You've spent a few encounters putting knives in my body. What's another?
[He had the healing injury on his left forearm to prove that point, bandaged though it was. Yet, as Silco leaned in, he shifted his cigarette to the corner of his mouth so there was no actual risk of a burn on the older man's face, and he refused to give ground on that point. No, their faces and bodies pressed closer together; he was aware of the smell of Silco's breath, the warmth from the man's cheek on his own, the shift of those legs under his weight.]
And what little lie will you weave to Jinx to explain my permanent erasure, hmm? She called you a liar on the train; we both know she's sensitive to untruths. [It was his turn to lean forward, his forehead resting on Silco's, the sides of their noses sliding against each other, lips a whisper apart. He felt the heat of their cancer sticks of choice.] Don't think I haven't set up people who will provide her my last words in writing. She's my daughter too.
[Vander operated differently than Silco. He invested in people, plans and opportunities. He brought people together, made friends, resolved interpersonal conflicts at times. His social and emotional intelligence rivaled his physical presence when he needed it to; he knew how to play the game to rival Silco. Unfortunately, Silco's game was shorter and easier to put in place; Vander was forced to play the long game to pull people in; he had to find and match agendas, personal interest and emotional investments.
So he remained exactly where he was, a physical presence holding back and holding together the layered reasons he wanted out of this apartment building in the first place.]
Why? Your legs going numb. Afraid someone might see us together and assume we have some kind of romantic attachment.