He is angry. Strung with self-righteous bristling, because he and Enri have been separated again (less violently, this time) (with a promise of reunion, this time), and because Enri isn't well, because Enri didn't answer and wasn't given the chance to answer.
And there's that fucking self-righteous (not-so-self-righteous, just now) voice. As if Colling's fucking apology means a fucking thing. (Strangely. Irksomely. The fuck seems almost, possibly in earnest.) As if it matters that Colling's thinks he can reason with a goddamn Pendleton. And, ha, on good fucking terms with the brute of the hour, is he? (Fucking Morgan. Darius'd like to maul the bastard's face. Wouldn't be wise. Wouldn't end well, likely. But fuck's name, there'd be satisfaction in it.)
It's fucking bullshit.
...It is, and it isn't.
Because this could be - Colling's intervention could be - useful. If Colling can talk even an ounce of sense into the Pendlefucks, it could go a long way. Not that either of them - particularly fucking Morgan - deserve a goddamn conversation. Bastards deserve to be rent in pieces for taking Enri away.
Again: The notion isn't productive, or likely to lead toward an especially desirable end. The notion is - fucking alas, fucking unfortunately - unwise.
...Speaking of unwise. What the fuck did Deforest get up to this time? Follow the likely trail: something to do with the most lackluster Pendleton. The little shitstirrer'd be hard-pressed to get under Colling's skin, but damned if hasn't had a decades-old hard-on for antagonizing Treavor.
Not that it matters to Darius. Not that he gives a shit what any of these Pendletons do, so long as they leave his Enri alone.
The point to keep hold of: Colling isn't ranting unreasonable. Enri is nearby - Colling seems to be speaking partly for Enri's sake - and the phone might be returned to him shortly. Better in this case to cooperate; better not to delay the phone's return.
So. Entertain this conversation. Listen, consider, and - voice unyielding and uncontentious - respond. (Don't bend to the itching urge to snap wry at Colling. Don't take this as a moment to wave the fucker's error in his face. Be cooperative. (Think about Enri.) Think about seeking solutions.)
"An hour." A weighted silence as he gives himself another moment to consider, and then— "If Enri is willing.
"After what he's been put through, I don't doubt that he could use the rest." After what he's been put through by the Pendletons and, yes, after a long and fruitful night with precious little sleep. "I support the hour's respite, but I won't tell him to remain if he feels unwell. I'll come for Enri if he insists.
"Tell him, Colling: he has a choice.
"And.
"If he stays. I need you to guarantee that in one hour, he'll return to me. No fucking fight. No further questions."
no subject
He is angry. Strung with self-righteous bristling, because he and Enri have been separated again (less violently, this time) (with a promise of reunion, this time), and because Enri isn't well, because Enri didn't answer and wasn't given the chance to answer.
And there's that fucking self-righteous (not-so-self-righteous, just now) voice. As if Colling's fucking apology means a fucking thing. (Strangely. Irksomely. The fuck seems almost, possibly in earnest.) As if it matters that Colling's thinks he can reason with a goddamn Pendleton. And, ha, on good fucking terms with the brute of the hour, is he? (Fucking Morgan. Darius'd like to maul the bastard's face. Wouldn't be wise. Wouldn't end well, likely. But fuck's name, there'd be satisfaction in it.)
It's fucking bullshit.
...It is, and it isn't.
Because this could be - Colling's intervention could be - useful. If Colling can talk even an ounce of sense into the Pendlefucks, it could go a long way. Not that either of them - particularly fucking Morgan - deserve a goddamn conversation. Bastards deserve to be rent in pieces for taking Enri away.
Again: The notion isn't productive, or likely to lead toward an especially desirable end. The notion is - fucking alas, fucking unfortunately - unwise.
...Speaking of unwise. What the fuck did Deforest get up to this time? Follow the likely trail: something to do with the most lackluster Pendleton. The little shitstirrer'd be hard-pressed to get under Colling's skin, but damned if hasn't had a decades-old hard-on for antagonizing Treavor.
Not that it matters to Darius. Not that he gives a shit what any of these Pendletons do, so long as they leave his Enri alone.
The point to keep hold of: Colling isn't ranting unreasonable. Enri is nearby - Colling seems to be speaking partly for Enri's sake - and the phone might be returned to him shortly. Better in this case to cooperate; better not to delay the phone's return.
So. Entertain this conversation. Listen, consider, and - voice unyielding and uncontentious - respond. (Don't bend to the itching urge to snap wry at Colling. Don't take this as a moment to wave the fucker's error in his face. Be cooperative. (Think about Enri.) Think about seeking solutions.)
"An hour." A weighted silence as he gives himself another moment to consider, and then— "If Enri is willing.
"After what he's been put through, I don't doubt that he could use the rest." After what he's been put through by the Pendletons and, yes, after a long and fruitful night with precious little sleep. "I support the hour's respite, but I won't tell him to remain if he feels unwell. I'll come for Enri if he insists.
"Tell him, Colling: he has a choice.
"And.
"If he stays. I need you to guarantee that in one hour, he'll return to me. No fucking fight. No further questions."