Jerry and Simon aren’t slipping off easy, which means Jerry’s agitated far beyond sense and Simon’s doubling down on his one-track fixation (a fixation that has a whole lot to do with the self-serving imp of a man currently perched upon the lap of a decidedly not-Simon boy) (the self-serving imp who is - unhabitually, remarkably - nudging Enri’s head with his own, and is he comforting the man?) (the self-serving imp who is steadfastly not giving a moment’s heed to the nearby altercation, unwilling to grant his attention to the undeserving or - perhaps; maybe - somehow wrapped wholly in this Enri). It’s abysmal timing, and Rin half-wishes they would have told the bouncers not to let those two in tonight.
They’d though there was no need. They’d assumed chance might be on their side, and keep this from happening.
Well, as the saying goes: Live and learn, and hiss invectives underneath your breath.
There’s another outburst, and suddenly Sen moves. There’s a split second in which Rin sees the tensing in Sen’s muscles, hears the calculation shooting through his thought, and they want to stop him, set a hand at his arm. Tell him Sen, no, this isn’t necessary. (Sen, be easy, someone else can handle it.) (Sen, please, don’t risk straining yourself.) (Sen, be careful, you must take care.)
They aren’t fast enough, or/and this isn’t the time for pointing out Sen’s growing weakness, isn’t the occasion for imposing stillness on a man primed for action. The moment passes, Sen’s gone, and for several beats they only watch him, his fluid leap and not-ungraceful landing, his surety in stepping up to the growing flurry of the quarrel. How readily he shifts from stasis to action.
Sen’s a good man, much as he might argue against the designation. An oddity among rogues; a beautiful anomaly amid the whole of humankind. (Perfect - they think, trilling internally - for the beautiful oddity they are, themself.) But he needs to be easier. But Rin can’t help watching with worry.
(Briefly, Rin notices a flickering shift in Darius. A turn of the head toward the shouts, following Sen’s path, a brief tension— And the moment vanishes quickly, almost as if Darius hadn’t seen a thing, or as if he’s decided it doesn’t matter. Which is how Darius treats most disputes beyond his immediate interest.)
This shouldn’t be happening. It’s a ridiculous case, the cause of which belies logic; the cause of which pre-dates Null Set, and should have been put to rest years ago. Rin’s tried talking to Simon. Or they did try once. About bullets dodged and the value of moving on, about sometimes you’ve got to burn compulsions out of yourself, and it’s an arduous process, but eventually worthwhile. The talk had ended with a vacant-knowing smile, a scoff, an ‘I know what bullet I want and I know how to find it’ and a ‘keep your over-powdered nose in your own business.’ Rin had nearly decked him, but instead washed their hands of the snot-nosed stink, figuring he could go to the devil his own way, so long as he caused no upset in their club.
They’ve spoken with Jerry, too. Jerry, who is a well-known quantity among many frequenters of the club; Jerry who has aided countless people who’ve come to or been directed toward Rin for aid. The subject of Simon’s been mentioned in scattered fragments ever since Jerry started up with the stink, and there was one murky night where Jerry spent a long half-hour explaining that he was sure he could help Simon, that Simon’s a decent person at heart, that Simon tries, that Simon’s attentive enough when there’s been no word of ‘past provocateurs.’ That Jerry thinks Simon could use therapy, but Simon has no interest, Simon insists he’s fine. That Jerry’s certain Simon will eventually stop chasing shadows, and Jerry will be there when he does.
Both of them, then, were immovable. And for Jerry, Rin offered an ear, an open extension of assistance, and left it at that.
Clearly, nothing’s changed with Simon. The fool-headed stink of a man must have seen Darius with this new boy of his. Who is supposed to be - according to Sen, according to Darius’s own report - different from Darius’s usual pursuits. Who is drawing uncharacteristic behaviors from the self-styled deity known as Darius Scarlett. The ‘my’ in ‘my Enri.’ The use of the boy’s name; the very fact of this introduction, when Darius typically prohibited his assignations from speaking around Sen and Rin. The way Darius sits wrapped in the man’s hold and offers caresses, again and again. And Darius’s insistence that Enri be included in anything spoken. Really, Darius very nearly appears to be doting on the young man.
It’s— Unusual. It’s realms beyond unusual.
Rin has a difficult time believing this change can be explained away by any alteration in Darius’s character. Darius, who has been the same intractable ass since returning to their life. (To be fair— Yes, to be fair, Darius took Rin’s apology with something very near to graciousness. For Sen’s sake, they’ve assumed, but the point remains regardless.) Darius, who showed up at Null Set after a morning spent in custody, looking like more than his usual wreck, having set fire to another apartment. Who still smirks with all the certainty of the egomaniac he has always been.
Who is, when Rin returns their attention to Darius and Enri, nudging his head against the boy’s. Who seems to be murmuring words for Enri’s benefit. Who has not yet left Enri to dangle alone in discomfort.
What is it about this boy? This Enri - Anderson, Pendleton - who doesn’t appear much different from the rest. Muscle-bound and puppy-eyed, with a strong jaw and an easy smile. Apparently content to sit where Darius likes. More courteous than some, though politeness hasn’t been unheard of among Darius’s encounters.
They’re watching the young man again when Enri speaks. Nervous, isn’t he? It’s the nearby altercation or the environment or— What, precisely?
So many curiosities. So much Rin can’t piece out for themself just now. They’ll simply have to keep an eye out. And perhaps Sen can help fill in some of the blanks.
For now, they cocked their head, watching the boy inquisitively. ]
Aren’t you?
[ It’s a mild remark meant mostly in jest, though the tone is relatively even. Their brow furrows just barely, slightly, then evens, and— Yes, that’s Darius running a hand along the boy’s arm again. (…Comforting him? Odd, that’s simply— Very odd. They’ve heard that Darius is fond of this one, but seeing it is very different from hearing the phenomenon.) ]
No, of course. We have our disruptions, but I am fortunate: they’re rarer than not.
[ They could speak of the club. They do like to speak of Null Set. But right now, another path of thought still has Rin snared. ]
Enri? Perhaps you know by now that the creature known as Darius Scarlett is a notorious miser with his praise. Shit-stirrer though he is, I am inclined to believe what commendations he affords.
He has spoken of you: this you must certainly have heard.
However, I confess I know very little of the details: what you are in life, or where you have been, or how you’ve come to rest upon my sofa.
no subject
Jerry and Simon aren’t slipping off easy, which means Jerry’s agitated far beyond sense and Simon’s doubling down on his one-track fixation (a fixation that has a whole lot to do with the self-serving imp of a man currently perched upon the lap of a decidedly not-Simon boy) (the self-serving imp who is - unhabitually, remarkably - nudging Enri’s head with his own, and is he comforting the man?) (the self-serving imp who is steadfastly not giving a moment’s heed to the nearby altercation, unwilling to grant his attention to the undeserving or - perhaps; maybe - somehow wrapped wholly in this Enri). It’s abysmal timing, and Rin half-wishes they would have told the bouncers not to let those two in tonight.
They’d though there was no need. They’d assumed chance might be on their side, and keep this from happening.
Well, as the saying goes: Live and learn, and hiss invectives underneath your breath.
There’s another outburst, and suddenly Sen moves. There’s a split second in which Rin sees the tensing in Sen’s muscles, hears the calculation shooting through his thought, and they want to stop him, set a hand at his arm. Tell him Sen, no, this isn’t necessary. (Sen, be easy, someone else can handle it.) (Sen, please, don’t risk straining yourself.) (Sen, be careful, you must take care.)
They aren’t fast enough, or/and this isn’t the time for pointing out Sen’s growing weakness, isn’t the occasion for imposing stillness on a man primed for action. The moment passes, Sen’s gone, and for several beats they only watch him, his fluid leap and not-ungraceful landing, his surety in stepping up to the growing flurry of the quarrel. How readily he shifts from stasis to action.
Sen’s a good man, much as he might argue against the designation. An oddity among rogues; a beautiful anomaly amid the whole of humankind. (Perfect - they think, trilling internally - for the beautiful oddity they are, themself.) But he needs to be easier. But Rin can’t help watching with worry.
(Briefly, Rin notices a flickering shift in Darius. A turn of the head toward the shouts, following Sen’s path, a brief tension— And the moment vanishes quickly, almost as if Darius hadn’t seen a thing, or as if he’s decided it doesn’t matter. Which is how Darius treats most disputes beyond his immediate interest.)
This shouldn’t be happening. It’s a ridiculous case, the cause of which belies logic; the cause of which pre-dates Null Set, and should have been put to rest years ago. Rin’s tried talking to Simon. Or they did try once. About bullets dodged and the value of moving on, about sometimes you’ve got to burn compulsions out of yourself, and it’s an arduous process, but eventually worthwhile. The talk had ended with a vacant-knowing smile, a scoff, an ‘I know what bullet I want and I know how to find it’ and a ‘keep your over-powdered nose in your own business.’ Rin had nearly decked him, but instead washed their hands of the snot-nosed stink, figuring he could go to the devil his own way, so long as he caused no upset in their club.
They’ve spoken with Jerry, too. Jerry, who is a well-known quantity among many frequenters of the club; Jerry who has aided countless people who’ve come to or been directed toward Rin for aid. The subject of Simon’s been mentioned in scattered fragments ever since Jerry started up with the stink, and there was one murky night where Jerry spent a long half-hour explaining that he was sure he could help Simon, that Simon’s a decent person at heart, that Simon tries, that Simon’s attentive enough when there’s been no word of ‘past provocateurs.’ That Jerry thinks Simon could use therapy, but Simon has no interest, Simon insists he’s fine. That Jerry’s certain Simon will eventually stop chasing shadows, and Jerry will be there when he does.
Both of them, then, were immovable. And for Jerry, Rin offered an ear, an open extension of assistance, and left it at that.
Clearly, nothing’s changed with Simon. The fool-headed stink of a man must have seen Darius with this new boy of his. Who is supposed to be - according to Sen, according to Darius’s own report - different from Darius’s usual pursuits. Who is drawing uncharacteristic behaviors from the self-styled deity known as Darius Scarlett. The ‘my’ in ‘my Enri.’ The use of the boy’s name; the very fact of this introduction, when Darius typically prohibited his assignations from speaking around Sen and Rin. The way Darius sits wrapped in the man’s hold and offers caresses, again and again. And Darius’s insistence that Enri be included in anything spoken. Really, Darius very nearly appears to be doting on the young man.
It’s— Unusual. It’s realms beyond unusual.
Rin has a difficult time believing this change can be explained away by any alteration in Darius’s character. Darius, who has been the same intractable ass since returning to their life. (To be fair— Yes, to be fair, Darius took Rin’s apology with something very near to graciousness. For Sen’s sake, they’ve assumed, but the point remains regardless.) Darius, who showed up at Null Set after a morning spent in custody, looking like more than his usual wreck, having set fire to another apartment. Who still smirks with all the certainty of the egomaniac he has always been.
Who is, when Rin returns their attention to Darius and Enri, nudging his head against the boy’s. Who seems to be murmuring words for Enri’s benefit. Who has not yet left Enri to dangle alone in discomfort.
What is it about this boy? This Enri - Anderson, Pendleton - who doesn’t appear much different from the rest. Muscle-bound and puppy-eyed, with a strong jaw and an easy smile. Apparently content to sit where Darius likes. More courteous than some, though politeness hasn’t been unheard of among Darius’s encounters.
They’re watching the young man again when Enri speaks. Nervous, isn’t he? It’s the nearby altercation or the environment or— What, precisely?
So many curiosities. So much Rin can’t piece out for themself just now. They’ll simply have to keep an eye out. And perhaps Sen can help fill in some of the blanks.
For now, they cocked their head, watching the boy inquisitively. ]
Aren’t you?
[ It’s a mild remark meant mostly in jest, though the tone is relatively even. Their brow furrows just barely, slightly, then evens, and— Yes, that’s Darius running a hand along the boy’s arm again. (…Comforting him? Odd, that’s simply— Very odd. They’ve heard that Darius is fond of this one, but seeing it is very different from hearing the phenomenon.) ]
No, of course. We have our disruptions, but I am fortunate: they’re rarer than not.
[ They could speak of the club. They do like to speak of Null Set. But right now, another path of thought still has Rin snared. ]
Enri? Perhaps you know by now that the creature known as Darius Scarlett is a notorious miser with his praise. Shit-stirrer though he is, I am inclined to believe what commendations he affords.
He has spoken of you: this you must certainly have heard.
However, I confess I know very little of the details: what you are in life, or where you have been, or how you’ve come to rest upon my sofa.
What do you think, Mr. Anderson? Pendleton?
How will you tell me who you are?