picture prompt meme

[wolfofdunwall]

the picture prompt meme
leave a picture/pictures and i'll respond with a character of your choice (or, if you'd prefer, of my own choosing). or leave a comment and i'll respond with pictures.

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[wolfofdunwall]

The last remark earned the bare edge of a smirk. “I wouldn't dream of it.”

He drew out his cigarettes, lit one, tilted the pack toward Zsasz; he couldn’t recall whether the man smoked, but the offer was open. The simple action helped clear his head a little, and he took a drag.

“If the urge to dive back in overwhelms me, you'll be the first to know.

“My guess is you’re the only one in the city worth working for, anyway.”

It was an honest observation; Daud didn’t bother with flattery unless he had to. It was clear Zsasz had connections to the more interesting jobs. And working for Zsasz would mean better odds of not pissing off the wrong people. Would mean tackling assignments on his own and not being stuck dealing with strangers. And Daud didn’t doubt that the pay would be good.

Then, too, he wasn’t foolish enough to pit himself against the whole of Zsasz’s operation. If the man was deadly alone, he’d be nearly unstoppable with a well-funded network at his back.

This would have been a good moment to end the conversation. Assurances had been given, Zsasz probably had the basics that he needed, Daud didn’t feel like the man was going to send anyone after him. Quick and to the point, and he could be on his way right now.

Only he was already here. Zsasz’s company wasn’t unpleasant. The information he was gathering would be useful in determining how to navigate the city. And maybe, maybe there was a little more to be gleaned. More that might tell him whether to leave this city before nightfall. Besides, with his head cleared, he felt less prone to making bad decisions. He could do this: have a conversation, leave without bending from his purpose. It wouldn’t be so hard.

“How’d you end up working for this Penguin? Or is that none of my business.”

[zsaszle]

"Huh." It was the kind of sound that could mean much of anything, but at least it was enough acknowledgement to make clear that Victor had been listening, something that was far from being a given. He remained silent for a while, looking off to the side as his eyes narrowed a bit, as if it simply took some time to think back on events that had already played out and everything that had been set into motion.

"It's none of your business. But it's no secret either." Given the way this city had developed, it really wasn't an easy journey from A to B, even for someone as straight-forward as Victor Zsasz. "Old Don, Don Falcone, he had a lot of people gunning to take him down. But this little guy, he outplayed them all. Don Falcone got out of town, he's retired down South. And the little guy has taken over. Penguin. Oswald Cobblepot. King of Gotham."

Victor moved his hand in a shrug-like gesture, pausing again for a moment before continuing. "He's not a Falcone." The loyalty that he felt for Don Falcone went deep, but Don Falcone was gone. "I like him. He's fun. Plays by the rules and still changes things up."

[wolfofdunwall]

“Good for the Don, getting out.” Was that something like loyalty he was getting off of Zsasz? Huh.

He could say something in return, even if it wasn’t much. From Daud, any offer of unprompted personal information was a rarity consciously given.

“It’s been a long time since I worked for anyone outside a contract.” Since before the Mark, and even then he’d never stayed with one employer long. “I can’t imagine really working under any of my clients. Bunch of frothing rich bastards.”

His clients. Unaware of what they asked or what he could do. Knowing only that they wanted their way and had the money to get it. And what were they going to do without him? Higher lesser men, sloppier assassins who may or may not get the job done. Hell. Maybe some of his Whalers would start taking hits of their own. There was an uneasy feeling behind that thought, something torn between revulsion and pride. Just look at what he’d done. Just look at all of it.

Shit. He couldn’t think about that. Daud took another draw on the cigarette, turned his eyes back to Zsasz.

“I appreciate the information. Gives a newcomer a little more to build from.”

[zsaszle]

"Contract work has its upsides. Plenty of opportunity for that in the city. The Lady is the one to ask for with that, at least if you don't want any hassle with clients." Not Victor's way of working, but he had plenty of colleagues who preferred working that way. Some of them he even worked with on occasion too. "It's about reputation. Gotham has belonged to the Falcones as long as most can remember. I have too. Whoever wants to be in charge of Gotham wants me."

Victor smiled briefly, at least the shadow of it, lifting his shoulder in what could pass as a shrug. "Pays the bills."

And then some. "Just remember not to do any work for free. We're professionals around here."

[wolfofdunwall]

“I don’t plan on doing any work, at all.” Not of that kind, anyway. And he’d saved up enough money in Dunwall that employment wasn’t really required. (Which left him to what, exactly? There was that question again, the nagging doubt about what he intended to do here, how he intended to fill his days. It’s nothing he needed to figure out now. Nothing he even needed to think about.) “But I’ll keep that in mind."

He shook his head, offering the fleeting suggestion of a smirk. “I'm guessing you don't have much trouble paying those bills. Feels good to be popular, doesn’t it?” It was half a joke, half an honest reflection. He didn’t want that kind of notoriety anymore, but he expected part of him would miss it for a long time to come.

His eyes flicked around the establishment before returning to Zsasz. “You interested in a drink while we’re here?” He felt like he could use one. Hell, maybe after this he’d buy a bottle of his own from the nearest liquor store, take it to wherever he could find to spend the night. (Assuming he decided to sleep at all; assuming he didn’t spend the entire span of darkness prowling the city.)

[zsaszle]

"Sure. I'll pay. You're new in town and don't want work. I feel like I have to treat you." Which actually did lead to another interesting venue of conversation. "How are you paying the bills?" He inclined his head a little, then slowly nodded. "That's that "what if" question."

Victor raised a hand just a little, but it was enough to get the waiter's attention. "The usual." Whatever that was supposed to mean. He moved his fingers to Daud, indicating quite eloquently that he should order whatever he wanted. It wasn't until the waiter had walked off to get their orders that Victor continued where he'd left off.

"What would you do if you didn't do--" Instead of finishing the sentence, Victor moved his hand to simulate a gun, miming taking a shot. Clear enough, he was sure. "Never had a good answer for that question myself. But you? You gotta have one."

[wolfofdunwall]

’And don’t want work.’ There was a minor flare of indignation at that, a prickling of pride along his spine. It wasn’t worth arguing over, and in any case his attention was swiftly redirected by Zsasz’s questions. Daud settled for asserting, “I’ll owe you a drink.”

Then there was the other question, and that was the question, the deeper cutting question, and Daud tried not to let his discomfort show through.

It wasn’t as if he needed an answer. There would be plenty of time (years and years in cycle) to figure it out. Maybe all he wanted right now was quiet. Space to ease his mind and try to remember what it mean to live outside the assassin’s life. He’d earned that, hadn’t it? He needed it.

(This was all assuming he was capable of anything else. Assuming he hadn’t forgotten how to exist in the absence of pursuit and blood. What was he apart from his work? That. That was the other half of the question, and one he was especially eager to ignore.)

He turned his attention to his cigarette for a moment, letting himself take a drag, playing at nonchalance. “I’ve got time to figure it out.

“As far as bills go, work was profitable in Dunwall. I have a tidy sum saved up. Not that I want that getting around.” Not that he expected the information would leave this table, either.

He’d divided the money among banks and less reputable sources, had some stowed back in Dunwall if anything drastic happened. And if need be, he was well-versed in the art of theft. There was no reason to expect money would be a problem.

Still. He could’ve used that scotch right about now.

[zsaszle]

"Uh-huh." No, Victor had no plans of tattling about that - or really anything they might discuss - to anyone. Besides, he'd have been surprised if Daud hadn't had good savings in place. Anyone sensible in the business knew to do that, Victor certainly wasn't an exception either. One never knew what might make business scarce for a while or when a holiday might be opportune, especially in a place like this city these days, where things might head South any day.

Although, so far at least, the Penguin was doing better than anyone had predicted. Victor was happy enough with that. He liked him. "I'd get bored."

He said that sentence just before he got a glass set in front of him, clear liquid and some ice cubes. He waited for Daud's order to be put down before raising his glass in a cheer and then taking a sip. Just water, he might still have some work to do today. "Before I started working for Don Falcone, I was bored. Almost killed myself out of boredom."

More or less, anyway. "I gambled a lot. Tried to find a thrill. You don't get bored?"

[wolfofdunwall]

He flicked his eyes toward Zsasz's glass, decided it was suspicious, decided it didn't matter, and raised his own glass. When he took a sip, he felt a minor relief at the burn; he'd needed this. And that bottle was going to happen after. It wasn't often that Daud drank more than one or two glasses at a time, rare that he let himself dive into drunkenness, but this night could be an exception. Call it a long-needed release. Call it a celebration of his new life (that was a laugh - as if any life can ever be new - but he brushed the thought aside).

"I've never been able to gamble. It doesn't interest me." He had a hard time envisioning Zsasz gambling, but then it was hard to picture Zsasz in any setting beyond his work.

(And himself? What else could he be visioned as? Where and what was he save for an assassin, and what could he possibly build out of life? ...He didn't want to think about it. Better to address the question without dwelling.)

Daud offered a too-casual shrug. "And I haven't had time to be bored. Guess I'll have to wait and see if it comes for me."

He would've liked to claim it wouldn't happen. Would've liked to have said he'd never been one for thrills, but it would've been a lie. It'd been part of the attraction to his work, hadn't it? The rush of pursuit and taking another's life in-hand, of choosing to end it and knowing there was nobody to stop you. The electric calculation of every movement in action, adjusting for each new factor and still remaining fixed on the target. The months of building up to the act, the gathering of research and the construction of an airtight plan that might need to be completely rewritten in the moment. All of that had brought excitement.

And all of that was what he'd given over.

It had been the right call. It had. He'd just... It'd take some getting used to.