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Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2017 5:45:32 GMT -5
His day was a mess. There was no other way to put it.
There had been an air of hostility around Sabah that happened from time to time, and he'd had to tread lightly with words and had been careful not to say anything that wasn't necessary. The silence wasn't comfortable and nor did he like it, but he had to accept it and that was that. He walked alongside her as they scouted the route that Gale's mark was supposed to take, and he watched the passing buildings for better vantage points than the one he had in mind.
"When's your French friend leaving?" her tone was not friendly.
"Soon, I think," he glanced to her from the corner of his eye, but otherwise focused on scouting out the area. "He's nice, Sab, I don't know what your problem with him is."
If her blank expression was anything to go by, that had been the wrong thing to say - but she didn't respond and so he fell silent again. She'd probably be tense until Al left, which wasn't a surprise.
"You didn't need me this morning?" he asked slowly.
"I was busy," again, her tone was not friendly. It was sharp, almost, but neutral enough that it wouldn't be noticeable to those around them. It was a little unnerving how he could read her but others could not; he knew that it was because he was used to her, but the fact that people couldn't tell when she was angry (like now) was a little...scary, sometimes. "You know, because we have the Jackals to deal with? Apparently, you ignored Dante's call."
"I was busy too," he wouldn't say that he'd been having dinner with Al, since that would just cause more anger. "If it was important, he could've called my landline. It's there for a reason."
"He doesn't know your f*cking landline, Iabi," the use of his birthname was a surprise, but not new. It was a testament to how furious she was with him. He didn't know why; he'd made a new friend that she didn't approve of, and suddenly he was a bad person. He swallowed and crossed his arms as he walked, but didn't respond, otherwise. "I thought you were supposed to be the smart one. Decent judge of character, or whatever."
Again, he didn't respond.
"Fournier is a problem, and the sooner he's out of Greece, the better. F*ck, man, I'd rather he was out of Piraeus. Why did you even help him?"
"It was the right thing to do."
"We are criminals. We kill people. We steal from people. And yet you see a drunk man in an alley and go oh yeah, there's no way this can go wrong."
Gale's brows furrowed. He really didn't understand her line of thinking - didn't understand why she held such a deep hatred for Al. They'd barely interacted (admittedly, they had been bad interactions), and it wasn't as if Al had done anything wrong. It was confusing, and he didn't understand her logic - but he wouldn't question her on it.
"I recognised him from rumours, kind of," his nose wrinkled, "thought he'd be useful to you."
"Sure," she didn't sound like she believed him. "What use is a dead man?"
He's not dead, was on the tip of his tongue, but he decided not to delve deeper into the conversation.
Honestly, he was almost relieved when they finally met up with Jacques and the twins, glad for some mindless chatter in the background to fill Sabah's cold silences. The rest of the day went as he expected it to; they talked about plans, Dante reassured him that it hadn't been important (with Helios' quick nodding in the background), and Jacques had been entirely oblivious to the atmosphere. They'd trekked out of the city and to the training range (Gale had brought along the rifle; why not? Jacques had a car, so it meant he could just shove the case in there for the time being).
The gun was as amazing as he'd expected, and the low recoil was probably the best part about it. He'd ignored Sabah's questions about the gun (that had upset her), and he wasn't surprised at Jacques' nervous side-glanced to it.
When he finally got home, he ached and just wanted to sleep forever. He did, however, take extra effort to clean the new rifle, and then he found the meal that had been left out. He tried the wine and the food, was mildly amused to find that the food had actually kept better than he'd thought - and then proceeded to wash his dishes and clean up the kitchen a little (though, he noted, Al seemed to have cleaned up after himself; he just felt a compulsion to do the cleaning).
Once everything was done, he all but folded up into the beanbag and fell asleep, snoring lightly. The day hadn't been great, he'd gained new bruises and a headache, but he was otherwise okay. Things were okay. He was more excited for his mission after testing out the new sniper rifle he'd been gifted, and that was a blessing in itself.
When Gale awoke, it was barely daylight. He groaned quietly as he stumbled to the kitchen. If Al was leaving soon, then goddamnit, he was going to make the man some food, and breakfast was the way to go. He'd bought some ingredients the previous day (to confused looks by Sabah, who'd recognised what he'd been picking up things for), and now it was just a matter of making the food.
It wasn't long until he'd made Ful medames; it was a staple, so why not introduce Al to his family's variant? Which...really, it wasn't different from the regular. Just a few different seasonings. He felt a little bad that he was too lazy to make pita bread from scratch, but hey, he'd never done it for himself, either. Once he'd removed the shells from the hardboiled eggs and had cut them up, he plated up the food and set it on the table. Considering the dish was fine cold (in fact, the beans had mostly cooled), he didn't mind if Al didn't wake up for a while.
He was glad that it was as good as he remembered it - patted himself on the back a little, too. It had been a long, long time since he'd eaten Egyptian food.
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Sept 10, 2017 6:10:13 GMT -5
He had heard Gale come back and part of him told himself to go out there and talk to the young man, ask about what happened. If he was okay, for that matter. If things had went well, if the gun was any good as Maxim had promised him it would be. But he hadn't. Didn't feel it necessary to intrude on Gale who was focused on the job at hand. It would seem terribly fatherly if he came out with all the questions based on his curiosity and unappreciated sense of worry for the young man.
So he stayed put listening to the soft sounds of the man washing the dishes, quiet cat-like footsteps, and then silence. He'd stayed awake still after that for quite some time before finally exhaustion claimed him. It was becoming a more daily routine and with each passing day, though at the insistence he was fine, he felt more exhausted. Less well rested. He couldn't sleep in either for as much as he trusted Gale, he didn't trust him enough to sleep past the first break of light or the first sound that slipped the door.
The night he was drunk had been an exception. He was shaky still from the nightmare. This time it had been different, had been something that was a product of his mind. He had been led down to the sewers by an associate from the police force who had been the first to answer a call and arrive on scene. It had been one of his information brokers, a young man of scrawny bearings with a quick mouth but knew when to silence himself. Few things went past the man's eyes. Well, he didn't need them anymore. They simply were gone. His mouth had been sewn shut, his hands and feet bound.
The sight would have been nauseating if he hadn't already been terribly numbed to situations like these. It was the first of many that died in equally cruel and painfully slow manners. In the nightmare, he had been forced onto his knees and his head was pressed forward so he was mere inches away from the body. The unknown assailant had told him he had been the one to do that. He knew it. He knew it all too well.
But he went about his morning routine as per usual. Went through the exercises to keep himself healthy and fit, ironic due to his constant nicotine fix. He'd taken a shower, gotten dressed, and skipped shaving. His hands were still shaking. He sat down after that, listening to the sound of cooking through the door until his hands decided they would cooperate. And thankfully, the shaking didn't take that long to stop. It was only five minutes this time around.
Opening the door, he smiled as he saw Gale cooking what looked to be an Egyptian dish. Ful medames if he recalled correctly, he had eaten it before in his time over in Egypt and it was a pleasant surprise if not utterly sweet. Nearly enough to forget about the images he had woken up to. The only plus of being a Godfather of a large and powerful criminal syndicate was that, well, despite all the terrible things, he still retained the ability to eat a meal after all that. "Good morning," he said at last, watching as Gale plated the food quietly. It was becoming some sort of routine, greeting Gale each morning.
"That looks delicious," he smiled, "And it smells wonderful."
Settling himself into one of the chairs, he waited for Gale to do the same and eat first. Instead, he decided to converse in the meantime. "How did things go yesterday? Swimmingly well, I hope?" He chuckled as he relaxed into his seat. "Let me guess though, you're going to be quite busy today once again aren't you?" It wasn't a bad guess in his opinion. Things could change at any given moment and casing a scene multiple times was the safe bet. The smart action.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2017 6:34:43 GMT -5
Maybe he was starting to slip - maybe he wasn't as observant as he had been, or maybe he was so used to the presence of someone else in the apartment that even Al's missed him. He raised an eyebrow at the older man as he finished up in the kitchen. He'd made sahlab, too; the diversity of this city was something to behold. He poured it into two glasses and set those on the table, too, before he sat down and absently tore off a piece of pita bread to scoop the beans up with.
"I'm gonna make dinner, too," he smiled and raised an eyebrow. "It's been a while since I've actually cooked food from home, but...well. Yeah. I wanted to make qasab, but you need a special sort of juicer so...you get sahlab, instead."
He wasn't even sure if Al would like it, but it was worth a try. He'd been craving qasab for a while, now, but he couldn't exactly make it unless he had the juicer and frankly, he didn't want to spend money on that. The juice stands here didn't have it, either. It was a pity. Maybe one day, he'd go back to Egypt and drink as much as he could. That sounded like a good idea - he was addicted to the stuff. But sahlab was a close second, so he supposed it would do.
"Oh, yeah, good morning," he leaned back in his seat. "Yesterday was kind of a mess, but the mission thingies went well so that's cool. Oh. Tested out the new rifle as well," he practically lit up at this, as if the memory of handling the gun itself was the best thing in the world. "I have never handled a gun with such low recoil, it's actually a dream."
His mood had been instantly lifted, despite Sabah's moodiness.
"Yes, I'm going to be gone again today; I should be home a little sooner. Then, tomorrow, I'll be gone from the morning, and then I shouldn't be more than two or three days. Three days is maximum, probably," the mission was just a long one, not a hard one. "I'm sorry. I did find the names of some places that you could check out, though," he picked up a piece of paper that he'd set on the table and pushed it over to Al. "Uh, one of the tourist attractions is closed for some reason," he smiled cheerfully, as if he hadn't been the cause of the church to close for the time being. "But these places are just as good, I think. I definitely suggest trying to check out Ieros Naos Agia Triada. Next to the Church of Saint Nicholas - the place we were at before - it's definitely up there on impressive sh*t."
Upon realising he was rambling, he cleared his throat and focused on eating. Maybe it was an idea to let Al have some input. It surprised even himself that he was talkative; after Sabah's mood yesterday, he'd thought he'd be in a worse one today. That, apparently, wasn't the case.
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Sept 10, 2017 6:55:29 GMT -5
Settling down, he caught sight of the cup of sahlab Gale had made, smiling at Gale's declaration that he was making dinner as well. That was amusing, it would seem his kitchen rights were being revoked right this very moment but he couldn't find it in himself to be upset or annoyed, but rather he was highly amused and even slightly touched. It would seem, with all the caring he had been giving Gale, Gale was determined to return some of that concern.
Lifting the cup of sahlab gingerly, he took a sip and smiled at the creamy and sweet drink. It was good to say the least. "I would be delighted to have whatever you're planning to make," he said with a chuckle, placing the cup down. "And this sahlab tastes absolutely wonderful, it's a shame you couldn't make qasab." He was honest when he said it, but honestly, the sahlab was really good. He didn't quite mind not having qasab, but judging by Gale's disappointed rambling about the drink, he assumed it was better. That would be the only reason.
It was nice too, the young man was in high spirits. It was nice seeing him all but light up at the mention of his new sniper rifle. The way he spoke about it spoke a lot about what Gale thought about it and how much he had come to like it. It brought a smile to his face, and he decided that even if Gale didn't come at least he would always have that sniper rifle, something he seemed to adore and love greatly. It was unfortunate though to hear that the job was a mess, but rather than pressing on the negatives he decided to focus on the positives if only for Gale's sake.
"I'm glad it handles well," he said, pleased with hearing how the gun was practically 'a dream' to Gale. The way the young man spoke about it told Alphonse one thing for certain. It was his passion. Gale loved sniping, loved shooting, it was more than just a skill, but a passion. Or at least, that was what he was starting to come to believe. "I didn't test it for myself. I bought it from a friend on good authority it would be in working condition and perfect to handle, It pleases me to hear the good news."
It went unsaid that he had only checked it to make sure it was secure, intact. Gale was the first to shoot it. It was something of a matter of professional integrity, Riagan had told him before that he liked being the first one to chamber and shoot the first bullet out of his sniper rifles. He'd handled used ones before, said it just wasn't the same as having something that was just completely his and nobody else's.
Looking at the list Gale passed to him, he listened to what the young man had to say before glancing up slightly at the mention of the name of the recommended location. The Ieros Naos Agia Triada, hmm? That didn't sound quite that bad as he located the name on the list. He would go there today then if it was recommended. He didn't comment on the Church either, though the mention of it amused him to some degree. "I see, well then, I'll busy myself with these attraction sights," he chuckled before pausing, "And I suppose I'll start off by going to the Ieros Naos Agia Triada as you suggested today." Well wasn't that wonderful?
A good breakfast - and it was good, he had found that out after the first bite followed by a compliment to Gale's cooking - and a day spent at a beautiful attraction that was recommended by Gale. He certainly had hopes for today.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2017 7:06:01 GMT -5
"Your life isn't complete until you've had it," his tone became very serious for a moment, as if this was a life-or-death matter. It wasn't. He was just really fond of the drink.
Gale was quiet for a moment as he ate, glad that Al liked it. He was proud of himself for not going overboard with garlic, too. Sometimes he needed to learn when to stop, and he'd managed to stop. His mind, however, was already on what he'd make for dinner; he'd bought a few various things that could be used in dishes, it was just a matter of deciding which one he wanted to treat Al to more.
"I've never really handled a new sniper rifle, it's...very different," he laughed quietly. "It's weird to adjust to the weight. My other one's heavier, and honestly, I'm used to heavier rifles. It's pleasant, though. I won't have to wait until the last possible moment to go and set up," he wrinkled his nose. "You get used to it, but it's still a pain."
People did not often think that he was strong - not with his small and light build. He'd come across a few people who'd assumed that he used lightweight rifles because of his build - and they had later been surprised. Of course, the lighter weight was definitely appreciated. He'd done some stupid things with heavier ones, so he could probably do even more stupid sh*t.
Once he was done with his meal, he finished the last of his sahlab and leaned back, checking his phone briefly for the time before he looked back to Al and smiled.
"I hope they interest you," he said, "gotta show you the attractions before I get them roped off or whatever."
It didn't happen often - he was surprised at the fact that he was having two same-city assassinations in one. It was strange, but had happened before, and he could deal with it. It wasn't really a big thing, and he expected that Sabah could smooth it over easily.
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Sept 10, 2017 7:45:15 GMT -5
The sheer ridiculousness of Gale's voice as he spoke about qasab had near about made his morning as he laughed, one of his more full body laughs. It was quiet and muffled by the hand he had raised to cover his mouth as his shoulders shook with laughter. Shaking his head, he looked up at Gale, eyes bright with amusement. It was strange to be able to feel so happy when all he wanted to do was for the pain to stop. But at the very least, his mind was focused on the simpler things, happier things. "That was ridiculous, but I'll take your word for it," he said once he had regained some of his composure.
What an absolutely terrible young man. The food was pleasant and easy to finish even as Gale spoke about his rifle. Putting down his utensils, he nursed his cup of sahlab while listening thoughtfully to what Gale had to say about the rifle. It was a surprise to learn that the younger man was more accustomed to heavier rifles, but then again, considering the condition it had been meant that he bought what was most affordable. Not what was best for him to handle. It made him doubt himself for a moment, wondering if Gale would have preferred something on the heavier side.
At the very least, the young man was still impressed and excited about the gun he had been given. Well, he did say it was pleasant so that was a plus. "I'm glad it's of more convenience," he spoke, smiling as he did so. It was actually sensible, now that he thought about it. The young man handled sniper rifles with a steady hand, carried them with ease. He had to be strong. The muscles built from gun handling were quite impressive. It had alluded him before but now thinking over it, it made perfect sense. Well, if the rifle wasn't perfect for Gale, perhaps he would gift him another some time down the road out of the blue when Gale remained here and he was.... somewhere on the path to rebuilding the family.
Noting that the conversation had drawn to a close and that Gale was looking at his phone, he knew that the man was waiting for the call to work. Nodding, he picked up the paper, folded it up, and placed it into his suit. "I'll do my best to go them before they become crime scenes then," he said, voice possessing a teasing tone as he gave the young man a simple wave of goodbye before heading out.
Locking the door behind him, he decided today was going to be a good day. The meal, the conversation, and even the place - now that he was looking at it on his phone - was wonderful. Scrolling through the images, he felt eyes on him. Glancing down to see if there was a tail on him without being too obvious and acting as if he was still on his phone, he saw nothing of interest.
Strange.
Slowly going through the directions to the Ieros Naos Agia Triada, he arrived there after about forty minutes of walking. He had spent the time weaving in and out of the crowd, heading down alleyways to check if he was truly being followed. There was nothing except a nondescript van that had caught his eye from time to time. Something was off, but he knew he was also a man with rather paranoid habits. Occupational hazards and all.
Trying to ignore the unwelcomed sensation of worry, he instead chose to look up and take in the magnificent architecture. The outside of it was absolutely... beautiful and breathtaking. It was a work of art and he extended a hand out to touch one of the white pillars keeping up the entrance. He was not a religious man whatsoever, but he knew beautiful architecture when he saw it. Taking his time to look at the building's exterior, he realized exactly how empty it seemed. Even outside there was sparsely anybody about.
Pulling up his phone, he realized it was a weekday. Frowning slightly, he contemplated his uneasiness from earlier once again. Looking over his shoulder he spotted the van once again. Narrowing his eyes thoughtfully, he reached into his suit to ascertain his balisong was still where it was. It was, thankfully enough. Pushing the doors open, he was met with a near breathtaking sight of the interior.
The walls were covered in large pieces of art. It was absolutely stunning and he found himself standing at the doors for a good minute or so before entering, hearing the door shut behind him with a resounding thud and finding it shockingly empty. It would have been something he would have liked had he not been feeling... uneasy. Taking a few steps in so that he was further away from the door and walking through the aisles, he looked up at the crystal chandelier overhead before the doors creaked open.
He did not look over at them, but the heavy sounds of their footsteps cased the hair on his neck to bristle. He had never been one to doubt his gut instinct. Listening to the weight of their footsteps, he knew that one of them was on the heavier side, one was fleet footed, and one sounded like the military sort. He kept his head lifted, looking at the biblical works of art as the light shining through washed over him.
Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a switchblade.
There had been no other warning than that when he finally lowered his head to look towards his left where they stood in silence staring at him. There was something clinical about the look on their faces, professional and cold. He smiled and for the briefest of moments there was nothing but an ungodly silence that lingered in the Ieros Naos Agia Triada. They did not waste another second.
The attack was quick. He dodged a vicious left hook from the lightweight, grabbing the assailant's arm as the blow went wide and snapping it in one fluid motion before allowing the man to go flying into the chairs from the momentum. That had left little time to respond to the other two and he barely managed to block the forward jab from the heavier man that sent him stumbling back a step even as the switchblade tore through his abdominal muscles.
Pushing the other man back and providing himself some space, he pulled his own knife from his suit, flipping it open quickly with his right hand while his left raised to staunch the bleeding. The pain wasn't exactly immediate, hadn't yet set in with the adrenaline, but he knew if the fight dragged on for too long it would hit him hard and he would not have the chance he had now. It had to be quick. From the corner of his eye, he saw the smallest of the men struggle to stand up, still disorientated. That meant he could focus on the more dangerous duo.
What was important was disarming the switchblade wielder. When the man came in for a second swipe, he kicked out and hit the man's forearm causing him to drop the blade. With the knife out of the equation, he had more ground to work with. The fight was messy. There were punches that had landed - one on his jaw that had disoriented him briefly - but nothing too terrible other than the abdominal wound that was starting to become a hassle.
It ended with him breathing raggedly. The fight couldn't have lasted for more than minutes with all three of them dead. Slowly bringing himself to a knee, he searched the bodies of the assailants, pulling out their wallets and taking their identification cards before grabbing the knife. They would identify a fourth party's blood, but with any luck, they wouldn't realize the extents of his injury. God, things had went wrong so quickly.
Swallowing thickly, he undid his blood stained vest to use it to cover up the red that was spreading on his dress shirt. It was less noticeable that way. The wound, from what he saw, looked bad, but he had been through worst. It didn't hit anything vital, he didn't think, but given the time he would bleed out on his own accordance. Heading out the back entrance, he found it thankfully empty. Trying to walk steadily, he arrived at Gale's apartment only to pull off his gloves to avoid the blood on the doorknob. He knew he had made certain that the trail of blood had left off at a different destination, but the extra effort was starting to have its taxing effects.
Pushing the door open, he found his knee giving way and he barely managed to pull himself into the apartment. Closing the door heavily behind him, he leaned against it as he pulled away the ruined vest to look at the extents of the knife wound. That looked... bad. Forcing himself back to his feet before he lost the adrenaline to keep himself going, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey, hands now stained with blood. At least the blood had staunched itself somewhat. That was good.
Taking in a sharp inhale from the pain, he downed a good deal of the whiskey before going into the bathroom. Pouring it into the wound, he hissed out, knocking his head back into the wall and squeezing his eyes shut. Working with what he could find from rummaging through Gale's things, he managed to patch up the wound messily. Exhausted and in pain, he found himself on the floor of the bathroom covered in his own blood, but too tired to move. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the tub before allowing the lull of sleep to take over him.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2017 8:10:14 GMT -5
Sabah's good moods were sometimes worse than her bad moods.
At least with her bad moods, she became predictable; snappy and moody and more likely to turn on someone, but predictable. When she was in a good mood, she was clearer of mind and so became much harder to predict. He knew, immediately, that she was in a good mood when he met with her, but didn't question it.
The day wasn't better than the day before.
Scouting was uneventful; nothing of interest happened, the place he'd chosen was still secure, and there wasn't anything of interest. No plans were being changed on the mark's behalf, and everything was normal. He didn't strike conversation nor argue with Sabah (who chattered away about whatever), and he was glad of an excuse to hang back when Jacques decided to turn up.
Uneventful and boring with awful company. Gale had a headache by midday and wanted to sleep after a couple of hours, and he was glad when he began to make his way back home. He stopped by a sweet store to stock up on some sweets, and continued home. In his head, he was still trying to plan out what to make - there were so many things he could make. Too many things! His mood became significantly brightened at the idea of making dessert, too, and he fumbled around his his pockets for his key before entering.
Blood had a distinct scent, and he'd always been able to pick up on it. It was metallic and unpleasant, easy for him to detect though he knew that others couldn't. But, with that said, he would've had to have been blind to miss the blood. There was a lot of it, and considering that his furniture was white, it was obvious. Whatever good mood he'd had flickered away as he followed the blood to the bathroom (admittedly, this was hard considering the haphazard pattern it was in), and he wasn't sure if he was surprised when he pushed open the door and found Al there.
His heart skipped a beat and he moved over and crouched down, gently reaching to check for a pulse. There. Good. Okay. He stood up and squinted for a moment, before moving away to the bedroom, rummaging around until he found his hidden medical kit. He'd only hidden it because of Jacques' habit of taking what he wanted from it instead of seeing Gale for help - and now he felt bad for that. Nonetheless, it wasn't something he could dwell on as he returned to the bathroom and crouched down, flicking open the medical kit and returning his gaze to Al.
"Al, are you awake?" he asked, even as he moved to check for where the bleeding came from. It wasn't hard. The fix-up was messy at best, and he hesitated briefly. "I'm going to clean and check your wound, okay? If it needs stitches, I'm going to do that. It's going to hurt, if you're awake. If you're not awake, then you're going to have a nasty surprise when you wake up."
It hadn't even registered that he wasn't speaking French, but Arabic. Panic-reaction, maybe. He swallowed as he undid what Al had done, picking up some antiseptic liquid and pouring it onto a cloth before he began to start cleaning around the wound. This was a clusterf*ck if he'd ever seen one, and he'd dealt with injuries worse than this. He glimpsed bruises but didn't care about them - they were minor, he could give Al some painkillers or something later. Right now, however, he had to focus on cleaning the wound thoroughly.
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Sept 10, 2017 8:26:44 GMT -5
Whatever achingly short rest he had before the sound of words caused him to open his eyes slightly, he only felt worse now that he was in some state of conscious. His stomach hurt like a b*tch, and he had been shot and stabbed many times before. It didn't lessen the pain. It'd torn through pliant muscles but touched nothing important. The wound itself had the potential to be fatal if not cleaned up well and properly addressed, but his shaking hands hadn't been able to do much work of it.
Groaning softly as he tried to make sense of the words he was hearing he could understand it somewhat. It was fast, a bit too fast for him to comprehend completely but he cracked open his eyes to look at the young man who had become a familiar sight. Gale. Right, this was Gale's apartment. Exhausted, he wasn't exactly sure the extents of what Gale was saying, but whatever it was it sounded like a lot of things. Maybe it was because of the furniture. He probably should have found somewhere else to handle this mess.
Maybe it was the whiskey. "Sorry," he slurred out, the words heavy from his exhaustion even as he hissed sharply in pain, flinching away from the other man's touch. What was Gale doing again? God, that stung quite a bit. Inhaling shakily, he tried to crane his head up a bit, still leaning heavily against the wall. There was something he decided. He wasn't sure what, but there was something in Gale's eyes that made him decide that he was going to be okay. Maybe it was concern. He didn't know, and as of right now, he didn't quite care.
He knew though, that despite the pain, Gale was trying to help. He accepted that, did his best to remain pliant under the younger man's touch even as he drifted in and out of conciseness, doing his best to stay awake to hear what Gale had to say. Maybe he would be able to explain himself better tomorrow when he didn't feel a whole lot like hell. As of right now, all he did was watch Gale work idly through half lidded eyes. It was with some realization that his mind managed to connect that Gale was removing what he had done, but he supposed it was for the best.
His patch up job had been hasty, one more common of his days as a spy. He'd keep himself in one piece and alive and bring the injury to somebody who knew what they were doing. That person was usually Leopald and on some occasions Seraphin. His wife had gotten terrifyingly good at sewing up injuries and he had been unable to tell if that was a blessing or a bad thing. It helped him quite a lot though to say the least.
Slowly, his eyes drifted close once again, his breathing weak and ragged, but steady enough.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2017 8:40:35 GMT -5
When Al apologised, Gale glanced up, but didn't respond. He didn't know what the apology was for, but he didn't want to dwell on it. He was quick to finish cleaning the wound and the areas surrounding it, and he grimaced. It was bad. Wouldn't stop bleeding on its own, probably needed help.
"You're going to hate me in the morning," he hummed, though he realised that Al had passed out. Okay, that made things easier. He picked up the needle in his kit and disinfected it before he went for the sutures, and he began to sew the wound up, testing every few seconds to make sure it wasn't too tight.
Once he was done, he cleaned up again before placing a patch of gauze over the stitches and securing it down firmly. He washed his hands in the bloodied sink and put his kit away, and then assessed Al. He didn't want the man sleeping on the floor - and he needed to clean up anyway. With a small sigh, he managed to pick him up (bridal style, because he wanted to be careful on the wound), and carried him with some struggle to the bedroom, carefully placing him in the bed and throwing the blanket over him. He watched for a moment to make sure there wasn't anything he missed, before he moved away and began to clean up.
Unsurprisingly, bleach was his best friend, and when it came to something like two in the morning, the apartment was...okay. The furniture still had bleach solutions patted onto the blood stains, but everything else was more or less as pristine as it would be. Looked almost new. His hands ached and so did his back, but he finally managed to fall asleep - a blessing, considering he had a job in the morning.
He woke up to Sabah in his face, which caused him to jerk back and hit his head on the wall he'd been leaning against.
"Smells like surgery in your bathroom. Did you get a papercut?" she tilted her head, watched him with an amused smile.
"Nah," he groaned, stretching his arms in front of himself before heaving himself up. He felt like hell, but he had a job to do. "Don't worry about it. Probably just spilt some antiseptic in there. Also, spring cleaning came early."
The woman looked baffled, but didn't question him.
"Anyway," she shook her head, pushed away and wandered to his kitchen, picking whatever she wanted. Looked like fruit. Goddamnit. "Go shower or something, you look like hell."
He gave her a thumbs up and went to do exactly that. Gale was quick, and dressed even more quickly, before he returned to the main living space and leaned against the counter idly, picking at his nails. He hoped Al was okay, but it wasn't a good idea to check on him when Sabah was around.
"Are you coming with me to set up, or?"
"Nah," she took a bite of the apple she'd been turning over in her hands. "Got a job to do near where you are, so I guess I'm gonna walk with you. Hell yeah."
Gale shook his head a little, but decided it was best not to question her.
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Sept 10, 2017 8:54:09 GMT -5
Whatever had happened the night before had come and gone. It was hazy if he were to be honest, but when he came to, it seemed as if he was in more pain than when he had passed out. Hissing as he pushed himself up, he realized he had actually managed to sleep in past some ungodly hour of the day. It would seem the one bonus of being injured was... well, passing out. That was one way of sleeping without having fits and nightmares.
He chuckled softly to himself at the thought, the action tugging slightly at the stitched and making him wince in pain and displeasure. Finally, after sitting for a bit and deciding he was okay - that he was fine enough to emerge and thank Gale for all that he had done and all that he had to deal with, he slowly threw his leg over the side of the bed wincing at the motion. This was a terrible idea, he knew it, but he was going through with it anyways. Hissing softly, he managed to get to his feet with some struggle before stumbling heavily to the door.
Leaning against it, he rested his head against the door allowing the cool surface of the wood to calm him somewhat. Taking in a deep breath, he pushed it open slowly before making his way out. He was halfway out towards the living room before he realized there were multiple voices. Sabah. He knew - had known from the second he was staring at his three assailants - that it was the young woman's work. He had questioned her authority, had made her look bad and even, in a discreet and cheeky manner, insulted her.
Taking in a deep breath, he made it to his usual position at the doorway. Leaning heavily against the frame, he looked at her from where he stood in his rather disheveled attire, he smiled crookedly. It was one that actually reached his eyes. The sheer thought and realization that her grand scheme to kill him had failed and he was staring right back her was enough. "It's such a pleasure to see you again," he said, words bordering on cheerful. Who would have imagined! And after being stabbed.
"What a sight for sore eyes you make."
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Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2017 9:01:44 GMT -5
Whatever Gale had been about to respond to Sabah with, he cut off when he looked at Al. For a moment, he took in the man's appearance, brows furrowing with concern. He felt the woman's gaze flick to him briefly, felt the sudden chill down the back of his neck and tensed, but she didn't move towards him. Instead, she smiled lazily at Al.
"Heyo! You look like you were dragged through hell and back," it was an observation, and while she was focused on Al, Gale focused on her. She seemed tense, now, her smile a tense line and her eyes sharp. The sudden change in demeanour was strange. "I'd say you make a sight for sore eyes too, but, well," she gestured to him and laughed, "you're a mess."
He frowned a little at her words before focusing his attention on Al. He was alive, at least, and that was good.
"You shouldn't be out of bed," he said in lieu of a morning greeting. Though he had been about to mention the stitches, he decided not to. He didn't know why. It seemed like a bad idea, and he supposed he'd go with his gut instinct. "Oh, unless you need these."
It was with a discreet movement that he picked up the strip of painkillers, easily hidden from Sabah's keen eyes. He'd learned how to hide things around her a while ago, but hadn't made use of it until now. Quietly, he padded over to Al and offered them, keeping his gaze down. Sabah watched, but made no comment. Her good mood seemed to be gone, but she was making a good show of pretending she was happy. It was part of what made her unnerving, he supposed.
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Sept 10, 2017 9:17:31 GMT -5
It was a very terrible affair being in a room with Sabah while being injured, he'd decide. It seemed like a lot of the power and authority he held that had her on her hackles were gone when he was injured. Instead she just seemed plain upset in her own uniwue manner, but unfazed.
He refrained from frowning at that. Knew it wouldn't do, but at the end of the day, her grand plan had failed. He'd won yet another battle. 1 to Sabah on accordance of a forfeit and 2 for him was the going score. Despite her harsh words and insult, his smile brightened even more.
"Oh, that's a shame," he laughed, concealing the pain of the action barely. "You're missing out on quite a fair bit if you're quick to judge from appearances. I've been told that's quite shallow."
He would've continued to try to up her in the toe to toe battle, but it seemed Gale had other ideas. Looking at Gale's nervous posture and the gift the man came baring, he nearly grimaced. He hoped Gale didn't suffer for his actions. He rather Sabah try to fight someone a little more on her caliber... Well, above quite a bit actually but she didn't need to know. Accepting the pills, he palmed them before smiling. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got an important contact to call. Somebody worth my time."
Excusing himself, he went back into the room cursing himself for even standing up. Finally looking at what hr had been given, he took two pills and downed them dry. Finding his ragged suit in the room, he pulled from it the identification cards of his assailant. He would talk to Maxim about this considering the Alkaev Bratva had some grounds in Greece.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2017 11:17:58 GMT -5
"You need better friends."
Sabah's voice was soft so that it couldn't be heard, and once Gale picked up his rifle case, she all but dragged him out. By the time they were walking down the street, he was practically hopping to try to keep up with her. She was a tall woman with long strides, and her grip on his arm was going to bruise tomorrow. He swallowed thickly and stayed quiet until they were close to where he'd set up.
"Let go of my arm," he said quietly.
"Say please and I might consider it," it was a game she hadn't played for years. One that he associated with pain. Without realising it, he'd stopped walking and he'd tensed up entirely, to the point that he was painfully aware of her fingers digging into the skin of his upper arm. "Don't be such a rabbit, Iabi."
"Please," he murmured, "let go of my arm. Please."
After assessing him for a moment, she let go and crossed her arms. "You're no fun anymore," she commented, "no manners, either."
Might've changed after you cut me up, he didn't say, looking away. He felt nauseous, wanted to get away. Gale didn't dare move, waiting for her to give him permission to leave, or something. Anything. He didn't want to stay near her anymore, needed time alone. He swallowed thickly and looked down at the ground after a few moments, clenched his fists, and yet he still didn't speak.
"I see how it is," if looks could kill, she would've killed the entire street. He was almost glad that they were speaking Arabic; there were curious glances but nothing beyond that. "Whatever. Go do your job."
Glad to be free of her, Gale was quick to leave before she changed her mind. He made it to the little apartment building with little parade, and made his way up the fire escape. On a day like this, there were probably very few people at home; old people and NEETs, probably. He was quiet about it, used to being stealthy. He admired someone's plants briefly, and soon enough, he was on the roof. He took a moment to make sure the roof access door was jammed, and then set up so that he was comfortable.
He knew that nobody had noticed him because he was able to stay up there comfortably, quietly watching the streets below. It was evening when his target came into sight, which was...much sooner than he'd expected, actually. The car stopped in front of some big-name restaurant, and the man stepped out. His bodyguards stood alongside him, entirely oblivious to the danger. Gale took a moment to adjust his aim, watched carefully. He was ready to take the shot, all he had to do was pull the trigger--
A foot came down onto the small of his back, and then he was flipped over. In an automatic motion, he swept one leg up and kicked his assailant between the legs. The yowl of pain was enough to tell him he'd hit, but he kicked again for good measure. He was glad he'd worn his boots; the crunch made him pained for the man's hospital bill. However, he had more pressing matters - Gale turned over and checked his scope again, saw the bodyguards starting to usher the man into the car again. The commotion, it seemed, had not gone unheard. As much as he hated rush jobs, he had a mere few seconds to take the shot; so he adjusted the aim quickly and squeezed the trigger. Behind him, he heard banging on the roof access door, could hear footsteps on the fire escape. It seemed that his only way to escape was through jumping, and, to be quite honest, he didn't want to do that.
The one good thing was that he'd hit the shot. That was what mattered, he supposed.
It was only a few moments before the Hellenic Police made their appearance, armed and ready to take him down. With nothing to save himself, he put his hands above his head and smiled lazily.
"Do I get read my rights?" he asked.
They were not gentle in the arrest. The handcuffs pinched at his skin and promised marks, and he wasn't quite sure what they did with his rifle. It was probably in evidence. Damn, he thought idly. Al spent all that money for nothing.
He was all but thrown into a single cell, and he was not uncuffed. He sat on the bed and leaned forward, humming a tune to himself. The Girl from Ipanema. It seemed to grate on the officers' nerves (a few of them told him to shut up), but he continued to hum idly. There wasn't much else he could do. He barely had an idea of what was going on, but, sh*t, he'd been caught red-handed. If that hadn't been enough, he'd also assaulted on officer.
It was the next morning when he was allowed to call someone, so he defaulted to Sabah.
"You got arrested," her tone was not amused. She sounded p*ssed.
"Eh," he flicked his gaze down. "I need your help."
She was silent for a beat too long. He knew, instinctively, that she was going to reject him - and it...surprised him. His chest hurt and he bit his lip. "Nope," now, she seemed awfully upbeat. "No. You f**ked yourself, you deal with it. I'm sick of having to save your a**. Get your new friend to save you, I'm sure he's in brilliant shape to help you out."
Sabah hung up, and he was taken back to his cell. At least his handcuffs were actually taken off this time, but he had nothing to do but think about the fact that he'd been right. His days had been numbered, and the countdown was lower than ever. He laid on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, wondered if he could find it in himself to regret. He couldn't. He was more upset about the rifle being taken away than he was over being arrested. How stupid of him.
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Sept 10, 2017 18:50:38 GMT -5
The day was spent indoors. He had no thoughts to go outside with the pain he was in despite how helpful the painkillers had proven to be. Breakfast had been more or less ignored by him, and he found himself getting used to the warmth of the bed. Since he was bed ridden with little to do, he had found himself on the phone with Maxim while flitting through the identification cards of his assailants and finally deciding to look at them closer. The fight had been too fast to remember their faces. He remembered their stature, the sound of their footsteps, and the strength of their blows. Not much else.
Zeno Panas. The man's features were fearsome to say the least, he recognized him as being the strongest of the three, slower too. The man had a nasty knife scary from his lip to his temple. Mikolas Ganis. The militant one. He had a close shave and had a smile that made him look less vicious than he had the previous day. And lastly, Paris Collias. This one had beady eyes, something he had familiarized with one of his accountants back in the Family. The kind he attributed to quick minds and quicker tongues that didn't stand on ceremony for anyone.
Raising his phone to his ear, he listened as the other side rang briefly before Maxim picked up. "Alphonse?" There was confusion in the man's voice. He heard a muffling as Maxim covered the receiver and shouted in Russian at what he could only assume were some of the Bratva members. Or movers. Or cleaners. Well, that was quite a list of option to go by. "Is this urgent? I'm kind of in the middle of something," Maxim's chuckle was sheepish and he knew the other man wasn't used to turning people down.
"Yes, it is," he said softly, voice raspy and weak as he pocketed the identification cards. "I need you to look into-"
Before he could finish, however, Maxim's voice cut in. "Are you okay? You sound... different," the concern was almost palpable. He felt an instance of dread and guilt almost immediately. He didn't deserve that. Didn't deserve the concern Maxim was giving him. Shaking his head, he swallowed thickly.
"It's nothing, I got into an altercation, though I suspect it to be an attempted hit," he said, finally shifting to get out of bed. Hissing softly as he did so, he continued to ignore the pain and push on. Wanting to see if the news had anything on the deaths of the three men, he was determined to head out into the living room. Lingering at the doorway a bit to catch his breath, he continued. "There were three of them. Zeno Panas, Mikolas Ganis, and Paris Collias. I need you to look into who they work for, who brokered the deal, and how much was paid."
"Hold on, hold on," the words came as a surprise to him. Was Maxim going to turn him down? Had there been a change in something that caused the Alkaevs to change their minds about helping him? Stopping by the door way, he stared at the blank tv, awaiting Maxim's words even as he barely concealed his pain. "Are you walking around? You're injured for God's sake, go sit down or lay down. And I'll look into the names and contact you about what my people find, but behave, would you? Seraphin's going to be angry, and your wife is not somebody I want to enrage."
Chuckling at the mention of Seraphin's rage, he regretted the action immediately due to the pull at his stitches. Barely biting back a hiss of pain, he finished the last steps to the sofa and settled down. "I'm sitting now. I'm fine, it's nothing, really," he said with a smile that was tight with pain. Reaching out to grab the remote, he flicked the tv on to the local news channel, turning the volume down. "I appreciate the assistance, mon ami. This favor I will not forget."
"This isn't a favor," he could hear Maxim, the other man's tone was almost sharp. "You and I are brothers, you are a Vor, one of us. If you were not determined to rebuild your family, we would want you for ours." The words were touching to say the least and as he watched the ads in boredom, he nodded along, smiling slightly.
"Still, I insist-"
"You insist anymore and I turn this phone off. No favors. We are family." He could almost see the Brigadier's glower and he shook his head at the sight.
"Of course, no favors," he agreed softly before he found himself falling silent, staring at the screen. Gale. He didn't need to know Greek to know that Gale had landed himself in trouble. At the very least though, now he had a full name to work with. Gale Amari. "Maxim, could you do something for me first?" He said, voice falling quiet.
The urgency of the matter was apparent. "Anything. Are you okay?"
"There's a friend of mine, he's been caught by local authorities. Could you pull some strings for me, muddle the evidence, make some people forget? His name is Gale Amari." There was silence on the other end of the phone before he could hear the man muttering something too softly for him to catch.
"Give me two days. He will walk out a free man. No evidence," he paused, "But it'll cost quite a bit."
"That won't be a problem, Maxim. Between you and I? Money has never been the problem."
Knowing that he had secured Gale's safe passage, he stood back up. If Gale was in jail and Sabah had attempted to kill him, then if he stayed here authorities would come in eventually. It was a surprise they hadn't already. If not, then criminals. Fueled by the knowledge of what had happened to Gale, he stood up and stumbled back to the room, cleaning up his things even as he clamped down on his phone kept at the crook of his shoulder. "Thank you, but I will have to go now. Call me with the good news, mon ami."
"Stay safe, Al. And for the love of God, call Seraphin."
The words of farewell had hardly been what he was expecting, but he chuckled dryly even as the tone of the phone told him Maxim had hung up. Grabbing his phone and pushing it into his pocket, he pulled his belongings out [and Gale's bottle of painkillers and two of his bottles of wine and one whiskey], locked the door, and left the opposite direction he usually entered and went out the back. Securing himself a hotel while on the move had not been hard. Checking in had not been hard, he merely said he was sick and the receptionist looked at him apologetically.
He had ordered room service for a meal and settled down to rest. He had looked at the wound, saw that it needed redressing. Perhaps he should have asked Maxim for his closest doctor as well. He spent the rest of the day securing medical supplies, tending to himself, and nothing else. The time passed by quickly like that, keeping a low profile and staying almost exclusively in his room with the occasional room service for meals when Maxim called him two days later. "The group that attacked you. They're small names, nothing big. The locals call them karcharΓes, sharks. The one who brokered the deal, my men have. He will not speak of who hired him, but in due time."
"Now, as for your friend, we've got the evidence wiped and the gun is in my men's possessions right now. You just have to go down there and bail him out. They have nothing on him now."
"Where is he being held?" Alphonse asked quietly, leaning heavily against his bed's backboard.
"Central Harbormaster's Office," Maxim said. "I have to go now, I'll text you the address where his gun is being held."
"Thank you, Maxim. I cannot tell you how grateful I am."
"I understand Alphonse. Be safe."
With that, the call ended and he forced himself to his feet to head out to the police station. The drive there - he had hailed a taxi - was relatively short and the bail wasn't anything too expensive. Well, by his accordance, anyways. The money to get Gale a clean pass and wipe had been harder. Sitting in the police station's waiting room, he awaited the police to come back with the young man.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2017 19:34:08 GMT -5
He'd made mistakes before. He was young, didn't know everything - but discovering that Sabah couldn't be trusted was...something.
It was strange. Given time in a cramped room to think about it, he could be logical. He'd known that she wasn't trustworthy, and yet he'd still stuck by her, had tried to defend her in various circumstances, had turned to her and expected to be helped when he'd been troubled. When he looked back on ten years ago, he shouldn't have. F*ck, he shouldn't have even stayed. Even Jacques had been surprised when he'd stuck around, had poked at him to try to leave. The physical damage had been repairable. He wondered if he was just f*cked, mentally. He was so dependent that he couldn't even leave when he was being hurt.
Didn't matter, now. He was stuck in prison, and the loneliness was hitting him.
If there was one thing he could be secure in, it was that the police didn't like him, and they did not take kindly to one of their own being heavily injured. At any opportunity they got, they were rough - his wrists were raw by now from how tight they put the handcuffs when they needed to move him, and he'd taken a heavy punch to the gut, once. It hurt like a b*tch but wouldn't be permanent, so he took it. It wasn't the worst he'd suffered, and he couldn't find it in himself to care.
He was a little surprised when he was given his personal effects (his clothes, his phone, his spyglass) back, more surprised that he was allowed to change into regular clothes (he dressed quickly, found that he had more bruises than he'd anticipated - hell, he had some nasty scrapes but that was fine), even more surprised that he was being bailed out. That was what he could make out; but the officers here had realised that he spoke Greek, and made a conscious effort to try to alienate him. They spoke as he and Altair once had - rapidly and with slang. This was one of the things that did not surprise him.
"You do not deserve to go a free man," one of the officers all but growled at him, "you must have some friends in high places."
Gale didn't grace the man with a response as he was led out (half-limping). He wasn't sure who he was expecting - definitely not Sabah, but not Al, either. He blinked and frowned a little, hesitating briefly before the officer's hand pushed him forward a little. He was just...free to go. It was weird. He walked over to Al and looked down, but didn't say anything. Wasn't sure if his voice would work, really. He'd messed up and yet the man was still here, hadn't just - left. He could've. Gale's apartment wasn't going to be safe anymore, the police had the address and Sabah had ditched him, so it wasn't exactly hidden anymore. He swallowed thickly, was glad, for once, that his hair was falling into his eyes.
He ached, and he was sad, and he had lost the Jackals. That was all there was to the situation. He didn't know if he could explain it without breaking down, so he didn't. Not in a public place. Instead, he gave a lazy two-fingered salute and hoped that it would pass off as casual.
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Sept 10, 2017 19:55:31 GMT -5
He was no fool. He knew better than to think that Gale would come out okay, but seeing the young man as he was made him frown slightly. Though he knew he didn't look much better with the bruises becoming more apparent and the constant pain he was in, he found it in himself to be slightly peeved. Had this been his domain, the police would not dare to to touch those under his family. But then again, the Alkaev Bratva had connections here, but not enough to control the police entirely and he knew how that could be.
The police did what was forced upon them, but they didn't do it happily. They didn't hurt Gale beyond recognition at the very least. Seeing the young man salute to him, he stood up and smiled. "I've spoke to them, there's nothing on your records. The legal matters have been handled accordingly," he said softly, not concern about those listening in, but not too keen in raising his voice. He wanted to reach out and look at the young man, assess his condition, but decided to give him some space.
He looked shaken. It concerned to him what the police could possibly have done to him. Hopefully nothing irreparable. And then he paused, he couldn't see the young man's eyes, but he could see something about his posture that looked absolutely deflated. "Let's go, I have something that I want to return to you," he told the young man, words honest.
He still had to go to the address Maxim had gave him. The man who had been the broker between the three assailants was being held there and apparently despite the beating, whoever had hired him had his mouth sealed shut. Amusing, impressive, but utterly foolish. Alphonse knew that when he arrived, no number of secrets the foolhardy man was keen on protecting and keeping a secret would remain as such. Glancing over the young man one last time and his collection of items, he supposed he'd ask the important question when they were in private.
Certain Gale would follow him, he turned away and headed out the door to where the taxi driver was. Entering the car, he had a quiet exchange of words telling the man a location near the address he needed to stop by. Hopefully seeing his gun would brighten him up slightly. He wasn't sure. Gale had been through a lot. Caught by the police. Given how the young man had cased the location daily and how quick and professional his work was, he suspected it wasn't a mistake, but he held his tongue.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2017 20:15:24 GMT -5
Nothing on his record. That didn't sound like it was a cheap deal, but he wasn't sure if he cared. He glanced away and focused, instead, on putting his spyglass and wallet into his pocket, and opening the back of his phone to remove the battery and sim card. He checked briefly for anything else (f*ck, he was paranoid), before sliding the now-dead phone into his pocket. He'd dispose of it later.
He still couldn't find his voice. Gale took note that he felt ashamed, which was definitely something. He followed Al nonetheless, stayed quiet in the taxi and absently used one hand to press against his torso. He found some of the scrapes the hard way (it made him wince), managed to map out a few of his bruises. Nothing major, but enough minor injuries that he'd be in some pain. The pain on his back wasn't a surprise, he could probably deal with that.
Gale remained silent. He didn't know what to say, didn't know if his voice would hold up. He'd barely spoken to the police aside from to mock them (it had been more amusing than he wanted to admit). Instead of focusing on Al, he looked out of the window and tried not to think about how disheveled he had to have looked. His jeans were torn from the scuffle on the roof, his pale shirt dirtied a little. It was whatever.
His brows furrowed when the taxi slowed and stopped near a warehouse, didn't miss the harbour that was nearby. He swallowed and took a moment before getting out (ow), and then crossed his arms and all but folded in on himself. Without the taxi driver to overhear, he finally spoke up.
"I used my call on Sabah," instead of a lawyer, which wouldn't have helped him. It was sheer dumb luck that Al had wanted to help, he supposed. "She kicked me out of the Jackals for getting caught."
There wasn't really a way he could phrase it better. He didn't want to say that she'd expected Gale to rot in prison or something, because she'd talked about Al. It was easier for him to say that he'd been kicked out of the Jackals than to say that he hadn't gotten help because he'd been helping the Frenchman. It just didn't make any sense to him.
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Sept 10, 2017 21:05:08 GMT -5
The ride was short. It was enough time to actually look at Gale and his dirty and disheveled clothes. He held his tongue though, uncertain of what languages the driver might speak outside of English. Thanking the man for his services and paying him off, he moved away from the vehicle even as the man pulled away. Hearing Gale's words, he found himself sympathizing for Gale even though the younger man's actions had been foolish.
He understood where Gale had come from. When his men were in need, they looked to those who had promised to protect them. Strings were pulled, court cases were argued, evidence tampered or straight up vanished into thin air. He shook his head deciding not to voice his opinions about how naive Gale had been. He wondered if the man even realized why he had failed in the first place. "I'm sorry," was all he could manage. That must have felt like a betrayal after all Gale had been through. They were his family, he had said it once before. He knew he didn't have to say that they didn't care about Gale. The younger man knew that. "That must have been difficult."
He knew what betrayal felt like. He had faced it, it had been his downfall. Though the circumstances weren't quite the same, he still tried his best to offer Gale some form of assistance. Looking towards the warehouse by the sea, he realized there was a heavy stench of fish lingering in the area. "It's a lot to go through, if you need to talk about it, I am here for you," his words were gentle. Forcing a tasteless smile, he continued, "Though our experiences are in no ways identical, I think I'll understand."
With that, he broke off from Gale knowing full well the man would follow. He had, after all, entered the taxi. He had all the chances to turn down Alphonse's suggestion, to walk away, to leave and lead a normal life. But he recalled the younger man's words. He had been more inclined to shooting than learning. He was going to find someone else to work for - or worse - return to Sabah if he had no options. Alphonse would give him options. Approaching the door of the warehouse, he knocked lightly.
The door was tugged open in one simple motion and he found himself face to face with a man that had become strikingly familiar over the years. Viktor Yezhov, Maxim Alkaev's fiance. The man seemed to recognize him almost immediately despite his current state and smile widely as he pushed the door open completely to pull him into a bone crushing hug. Hissing in pain even as he wrapped his hands around the other man, he squeezed his eyes shut. The response was immediate and the man released him. There was worry in his green eyes even as he was assailed with Russian. "Are you okay, Alphonse?"
"Nothing too terrible, just a minor injury," he said, smiling slightly as he shook off the concern. That had hurt a lot. Shaking his head, he looked at Viktor taking in the younger man's strong jawline and sandy brown hair. "I didn't know you did jobs outside of Russia. I thought you were a Boyevik under Maxim."
"Ah, yes, I'm now a Kryshas for the Bratva. Nikolas thought it more becoming of his brother and my skills," the man chuckled even as he placed a large hand on Al's back, guiding him into the warehouse. "I was here to secure the contracts in Greece. But Maxim had told me that a close friend of ours needed help. I never thought he meant you." He explained, before turning to Gale. Pointing towards three of the Russian mobsters, he swapped to Greek much to his annoyance. He didn't understand what the man said, but he assumed it involved picking up Gale's gun from those men. Smiling at the younger man, he nodded in agreement. "I'm sorry about what happened."
Ah, that was right. Viktor had not spoken him since the incident. Forcing himself to smile despite the sore subject - somehow that had hurt more than the knife wound now that his mind was on it - he chuckled, "It was unfortunate. But as for things between you and Maxim? What of your engagement?"
"The marriage is in two months time," Viktor answered, grinning and Alphonse raised an eyebrow in surprise. Marriage? Already? He smiled, genuinely this time. "Maxim has been remodeling his house, said you kept calling him when he was getting the workers to rearrange things." The younger man chuckled at the words, his laughter had a lot of warmth even as he patted Alphonse on the back gently. "But onto business. The man who brokers deals with that small group - they're small criminals, brutal and violent killers but not the best - is right here. How many were there? One? Two? You gave them a run for their money, didn't you?"
Amused at Viktor's endless questioning, he found himself falling back into the normalcy of the situation. "Well, I must apologize to Maxim when I see him again." Pausing at the questioning, he knew Viktor was a man who loved violence and good spars. He had been dodging the man's questions for years in order to avoid a request to spar. He wasn't the kind to pull punches and Alphonse knew full well a good punch and he would be left with a broken jaw. "It was three, but they weren't well trained.' He spoke dismissively even as Viktor whistled behind him, clearly impressed.
"Next time you'll have to show me how you do that, my friend," Viktor grinned, stopping before a small shrimp of a man struggling in bonds. He was injured with a head wound, a split lip, and other various bruises and small cuts over his nude body. He had been stripped and left naked and was trembling from the cold and pain. "But here you have him, Loxias Manis. Small time crime broker and utterly dead."
Looking between Viktor and the shaking man, he tilted his head slightly as he appraised Loxias. The man was hardly more than bones and certainly held the appearance of being underweight. "Do you speak English?" He said, words slow.
Laughing, Viktor kicked out at the man's shin in boredom, "He's mute." The man slipped into Greek soon after, "Now aren't you?"
Furrowing his brows, he honestly hadn't anticipated a tight lipped man for such small criminals. Chuckling he leaned back against the door frame. "Tell him it doesn't matter if he doesn't want to speak, sooner or later, he will be begging to." It was strange to even think he had stopped this way of life for the briefest time in between the first few months after the fall of his empire. He watched the fear in the man's eyes as he spoke and knew instinctively the man understood English fully well, but didn't stop Viktor from translating.
"Now," he drawled, heading over to the tools laid out. A wrench? That was a nice touch. Picking it up and testing its weight he looked at the other man. "I absolutely despise violence though it may not seem like it. I prefer making allies rather than enemies. But I have no qualms with doing what I must to get what I need." Heading over to Loxias, he stopped before him. "What will it be?"
Loxias had held out longer than he had anticipated. Twenty or thirty minutes with a shattered knee cap, a broken hand, and a few missing teeth, the man had screamed out for him to stop after the salt touched the shallow cuts on his body. Pausing in his actions, he watched as the man breathed raggedly, eyes wide and wild with fear. "I talk, I talk," the man said rapidly in English, words muddled due to his fear. "A woman hired me." Undoubtedly Sabah, but if it turned out he was wrong and there was another player involved, then things were a bit more complicated than he would hope.
"Circe Terzi. She paid well. Tall woman, very, very young and beautiful. Dark curly hair and brown skin. She.... she spoke like she was a local here. I didn't know who I was going to send them after. I saw and knew they had died. I was afraid speaking would have me killed as well." The description matched Sabah and he nodded even as Viktor looked at him, muttering softly in Russian that he didn't recognize the name.
"It's an alias," he said softly, "I know who ordered the hit. Do with him what you will, Viktor. I have to go. Thank you for the assistance." Sharing another, albeit gentler, hug he headed off even as he heard the unmistakable sound of a dying man's gurgle. Closing his eyes, he didn't turn back as he headed over to where Gale was. "I'm done here," he told the younger man. "I'm going to return to my hotel and pack up and fly to Russia." Appraising the young man, he paused contemplating his next words before repropositioning his offer. "Would you like to come?"
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Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2017 21:30:32 GMT -5
Gale didn't respond. Didn't need to - he appreciated Al's words, at least, didn't know why a man who'd known him for not even a week was there for him whereas people who'd been there for over a decade weren't. It hurt so much, and yet he couldn't do anything about it. There was no way he could fix it, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He'd never been solo before, had never been outside of the Jackals; nothing seemed to change, and yet everything felt like it had.
He raised an eyebrow when Al was pulled into a hug. Would've smiled, under other circumstances, but he remained blank-faced and just observed. He was good at doing that. Supposed to be. He didn't know, now. Gale had been so sure that he'd secured the area, that he'd been subtle. The police had come at a strange time; there had been no helicopter nor any other eyes in the sky, hadn't been any indication that he'd been spotted. Maybe it was just unluckiness on his behalf, wrong place at the wrong time. That didn't sound right, but it was easier than the other paranoia-based conclusion he'd come to.
When directed to the other man, he flicked his gaze briefly to Al, and then did as he was told. The men, themselves, were nice enough. Made conversation.
"It's good gun," one of them said, though the Greek was rough. Gale studied him for a moment, before nodding quietly. "Handle well?"
"Yes," he spoke Russian, causing the trio to raise eyebrows and glance between each-other. "The recoil is barely there, it's a nice change from what I'm used to. Lightweight and easy to carry, too. They didn't damage it, did they?"
"Surprisingly, no," it was the same man to speak, seemed to be the more talkative of the men. He seemed more comfortable in his native tongue, and if Gale could offer that luxury, then he was fine with it. Russian came surprisingly easy to him, took only a minor stumble for him to fall back into the fluent ease he was used to. "They didn't touch it, looks like. Not sure if they've sabotaged it, but I don't think so," the man paused, "the hit you got was on the news. Influential politician. Very clean."
"My work is usually cleaner."
"You were being attacked, no?" amusement was apparent, though it was a softer kind. A gentle smile from a man who held a friendly face. "I have some contacts if you ever need work."
A card was given to him. A mobster was giving him a card. It was surreal; it looked like the man had a...a flower shop. He would've laughed if he had been in a better mood. As it was, it did lighten his mood a little, and he pocketed the card. He flicked his gaze to the other two, who seemed to be a little younger than the first man, but not by much. All of them looked experienced, but he couldn't be sure. Instead of lingering on that for too long, he focused on the gun and ensured that everything was there.
The flower shop mobster (Gale learned that his name was Vitaly) made conversation, was a talkative man though he gave very little information. He seemed to be a marksman as well. Even mentioned Altair - and then the conversation steered down that path, about positioning. By the time Alphonse came over, Gale was in a slightly better mood. Vitaly waved him off and walked away with the other two men, while Gale picked up the rifle case and looked up at Al. He wasn't in such a foul mood anymore, his mind was cleared. It had been nice to be able to distract himself.
When the offer came, he blinked slowly. Took a moment to process, and took another moment to consider it.
"Okay," he said, after a few moments. "Yeah. I'd like to come."
He had nothing else left here. Greece was not his home anymore - it was just like that. Just as she'd pulled him away from Egypt, she forced him out of Greece, removed any idea of home from him. Maybe going with Al to Russia would be an adventure, something to get himself back on his feet and get some connections so that he wouldn't completely fail while he was alone.
Except he wasn't alone, and he did have Al. That was something, and he was surprised at the comfort it gave him.
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Sept 10, 2017 22:00:33 GMT -5
It seemed that in the time he was gone, Gale had gotten himself acquainted with the three Bratva boyeviks. Smiling at the four, he nodded to them before giving his attention to Gale. Watching the young man consider his options, he wondered briefly if he would be turned down. Knew that he had when he had nothing left. It would be a disappointing farewell, but he would make of it what he could. Still, it wasn't far to hope, now was it? He knew, that in many places, it was the thing that killed him inside. The hope, the desire for something better despite knowing it was not possible. It was what broke so many people.
Gale's response however caused him to lighten up, smiling as he nodded to the young man. He was a man who had been rejected many times before, knew how to handle the brunt of that blow. The pleasant surprise caused him to brighten up slightly. "I'm glad," he said softly, words genuine as he nodded at the man. "I will arrange the means of transport."
Pausing as he appraised the young man one more time, he decided it would be best to allow the man to tend to his injuries and also get new clothes and supplies as necessary. He was under the assumption that Gale's house was probably taped off by the police for their investigations into the political assassination. It was big news and even though Gale had been released, the apartment was still going to be in the hands of authority for at least a week or two. And something told him Gale wouldn't want to return, though breaking in if Gale wanted to wasn't a hard task.
He knew ways into crime scenes, much less just areas taped off by the police. Leading the young man away from the boveviks, he started speaking. "I'm under the assumption most of your possessions are lost or not with you at the time being. Would you like to go buy some clothes and perhaps a suitcase for our imminent travels? I'm sorry to inform you, I'm not a very stationary man." That was the truth. Even as a Godfather, he was seen many places in order to secure business deals and family alliances.
And now that he had no Family? Nothing to return to regulate, he was free to go here and there building up his near international criminal empire. He had ties and networks in every continent with many differing criminal syndicates in multiple nations. Paris had merely been his base of operations and his main concern. He smiled, hoping that he didn't mind spending time to buy things for Gale. "I would suggest going back to your apartment for your belongings, but I believe that they've already been packed away and placed into evidence by the police," he informed Gale somewhat sadly, sympathizing for all the young man had lost.
They had done that with his house and he had relocated his family to another estate under one of his aliases. The police had been none the wiser about the actions. "If you want to put that off, we can return to my hotel. I can check out another room for you if you'd prefer that and you can look over your injuries and rest." Smiling to the young man, he looked at him, interested in his opinion on the matter. Alphonse had little to do now that he had finished his objective in Greece and his injury was terrible for tourism, so he would do what Gale wanted before calling Darius, his private pilot, in for work.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2017 22:12:51 GMT -5
Though Gale smiled in return to Al's brighter mood, his heart wasn't really in it. He hadn't wanted to linger on what he'd lost - was just glad that he had money. He didn't have to deal with rent or bills anymore, which meant he had more money than he would've; it meant that getting some new clothes and a suitcase would be easy.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to sleep for now," he kept his voice quiet. He was more tired than he'd thought; the sadness, he supposed, helped with that. The feeling of being lost.
He considered his situation for a moment, considered not telling Al but, hell, there was no point in hiding anything.
"I wouldn't be able to go back there anyway," he adjusted his light grip on the case, shifted his weight between his legs. Now that he was safe, the ache over his body had settled firmly. "The Jackals control the area my apartment is in, it would be impossible for me to go there. She'll probably set up watches there, just to make sure."
Sometimes, he disliked how well he knew her. Knew what actions she'd take. If she'd abandoned him, then she'd make sure that he wasn't able to go home on the off-chance he was released. He knew that word would get to her quickly about his release, knew that she'd try to push him out of Piraeus sooner or later. It was a good idea to go with Al, really. Safer.
"I can sort out getting new things, it's not a big deal," he pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand to push away the oncoming headache. Everything was too much and all at once. He really needed to rest, knew that he needed to get new clothes and the like but couldn't find the energy. Not right now. He could, at least, remember where he'd gotten his other clothes from. The only belongings that had been taken away that he was going to miss were the games. Mostly because of his saves. The pictures, too; the various pictures of the Jackals from eras, pictures of Tea and Mori that wouldn't ever be replaced. Maybe it was a good thing. He didn't know.
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Sept 10, 2017 23:05:33 GMT -5
It was a fair request from Gale and he accepted it with little to no protest. With a simple nod, he had brought Gale outside and Viktor had followed soon after asking if he had a vehicle. After admitting to not having any means of transportation, Viktor had pressed him to allow the younger man the chance to drive him back to the hotel. Though the deed was unexpected, he appreciated it quite a bit and accepted it without any complaints or resistance. The car Viktor had wasn't one of the luxury models and it told him one thing. Viktor wasn't staying here long, just as he had said.
He was one of the Bratva's enforcers now. That meant that there had been trouble in Greece, something that had decisively not been his request for assistance. Bidding Viktor farewell, he brought Gale inside, realizing that the young man had not been exaggerating when he had said he would much rather sleep. He seemed exhausted. There was something about the way he held himself that looked as if he just wanted to lay down and forget. Alphonse knew what that felt like, had been feeling it for the past few months.
That night, he had called up Darius Wilson. The man was originally a member of the Royal Air Force with an impressive resume and in his times in the 13th, he had met Darius here and there. In the ending, they had fallen out of contact until his MI6 acquaintance, Malakai Croft, had gotten them back into contact when he had requested assistance with some monetary problems and alcoholism with a good friend of his from the RAF that would pique Alphonse's interests. He never fathomed it would have been Darius.
When they had served, Darius had been everything. He was prim and proper, he took his job seriously, and was a stickler to the rules. It had been difficult to get Darius to give up drinking. The money had not been the problem. He had later found out that Darius had been kicked out of the military for misconduct due to his alcoholism and gambling addiction. He later traced the causes to a rather heartbreaking divorce. Without an employer, Darius became easy to secure as one of his own and his money fed into the gambling addiction that Darius cut two years down the road after falling in love and marrying Angelica.
Darius had his own private airlines nowadays and he taught individuals how to fly. His son ran it mostly and Darius taught. When Alphonse needed transportation or the transportation of goods, he serviced him well and kept him in contact with other big names in the private airline services. Darius was loyal to him and only him, never extended his transportation services to anyone outside of the Fournier Family and acquaintances. He had not spoken to the man since the fall of the Family, and given recent events, he knew how quick people were to turn their backs on him. Listening to the phone ring, he wondered if he would just be allowed to go to voicemail. That would... That would be quite an answer to an unasked question.
Just before the dial tone ended, he heard a familiar but exhausted voice that sounded both surprised and confused, "Alphonse? You're okay? Alive? I thought you were dead or something after everything that happened."
"It's not that simple to kill me, mon ami," he said warmly, realizing after a moment that Darius had been asleep. The man had one of the worst sleeping schedules known to man after his time in the RAF, he had been less of a stickler to rules.
"Alrighty, alrighty, I'm up. What do you need?"
"I need a flight to Russia. The Alkaev airfields," he answered knowing that Darius knew exactly where he was talking about. He had taken Darius into Maxim's mansion before and the pilot had been not as interested in it as he was in the planes the Alkaevs had laying about in their airstrip. It had amused Alphonse and Maxim greatly, though neither man voiced the matter to Darius.
"Done deal. The soonest I can be there is the day following tomorrow, 4 am. I've got something I need to tie up here, some sort of bills. Ever since you went into the dark, a lot of people have been talking Al. They say you're out for good and I don't believe that, but only you can silence them for good. In the meantime, I'll keep the boys here in line. I know who we stand with."
The words had not surprised him, but he nodded, thanked Darius - for everything, his loyalty most importantly - he closed his eyes and settled into bed. He had checked his injuries over, noticed they were healing nicely despite everything, and winced when he had poked tentatively at it in his own morbid curiositydespite his experience with wounds. The next day was uneventful. He had met up with Gale, informed the man of news of their travels and had spent much of the day doing nearly nothing except cleaning his clothes and accepting a package he had ordered. It was his cigarettes.
The day passed quickly and by the time it was the time to meet with Darius, he had gotten the younger man to come with him to meet up with Darius. The pilot had greeted him with warmth and - dreadfully - yet another hug that caused him to wince but smile all the same. The conversation had been mild and kept quick. Details about what happened were spared, but the cause of his injury was mentioned though he told Darius to not worry about it as well. The plane ride from Greece to Russia was short, just under four hours and when they landed in the Alkaev airfields, he was met by Maxim's men who had come to pick him and Gale up.
Loading up their suitcases and belongings, the men drove them to Maxim Alkaev's mansion, a beautiful large white building with an excessive number of lights that was beautiful, but he could hardly imagine the electricity bill. Darius had asked to stay at the airfields. When they arrived in front, he patted Gale's leg gently, "Let's go." The words were said gently even as he stood up and walked to the door where Maxim was standing, arms spread wide for the hug.
He had found out long ago that Maxim's men insisted on carrying his belongings inside and any signs of resistance would be met with genuine annoyance and the individuals more often than not appeared to even be upset at the behavior. "Maxim, it's been awhile," he said, pulling the man in close. The hug was long and warm and a lot less rough than Viktor's.
Maxim had chuckled, nodding into the crook of his neck before kissing Alphonse on the cheek. The action was responded with a kiss of his own. "I am pleased to see you, Alphonse, my good friend," Maxim said, smiling widely even as he opened the doors wide. He didn't miss the way Maxim glanced toward Gale, wary but trusting enough of him. "You look like you have seen better days. Is the injury bad? Artem can finish the job on his own accordance if it is."
"No, no, it will be fine." he insisted, sitting down after Maxim. Waving his hand to placate the man's concern he looked at him. "So, tell me about this job. It's in a week?"
"A week and three days. There's a Brigadier in an enemy Bratva that has been trying to steal our business. Of course, we want the hit done as a message but no ties for the police. He has a full protection detailing of five highly trained boyeviks, some of their most vicious. He's doing business with one of our accountants. We want you to kill him while he's in the act of signing the deal and the accountant to send a message." Mulling over the details, he supposed it wasn't the hardest of jobs. And there was Artem or Eight to assist him. Hell, Gale could help if he wanted. "The payout, as you know, is Artem. I know he'll service you well."
"And does Artem know of this?" He asked tipping his head, contemplating the answer.
"No, if you get him to want to follow you, he is yours. If he wants to stay, he is ours. That is fair, yes?" Maxim responded, something thoughtful on his features. He had been called a silvertongue lawyer before, knew that this was a test by Nikolas and not Maxim's plan. Nodding slowly, he turned away.
"That will be fine."
Smiling, Maxim looked away from him to Gale. "And this is?" He paused, his gaze lingering on Gale before asking, "Do you speak Russian?"
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Post by Deleted on Sept 11, 2017 11:26:29 GMT -5
It had been a while since he'd felt like this - and even then, it wasn't as bad. It didn't take him long to realise that his mind had moved from this is fine, and I'll be fine, to be on your guard. It took him a while to get to sleep, and even then he slept in short bursts. He found that it was easier to sleep if he sat on the floor with his back to the wall and his body facing the door.
His sleep was full of nightmares, and he wished that he could forget.
Somehow, this was worse than ten years ago, and he didn't know why. Ten years ago, his lover had been killed and so had one of his closest friends. Jac had been missing for two weeks - they'd thought he was dead, had decided to begin traveling. He shouldn't have gone with Sabah, shouldn't have trusted her. He still remembered the cold feeling of a blade pressing into the skin of his back, could remember the moment the pain had overwhelmed him. He'd woken up in a hospital bed, with more bandages than skin. Had been told that his friend had brought him in. Apparently, the story was that he'd been attacked by some roadside thieves, or something like that.
Gale had forced himself to believe it. Pretended that the knives and the constant murmurs of failure had just been his imagination, his delusions playing up. It hadn't been that. He knew it. His memory had only failed him once, and that had been after the original Jackals had fallen. He knew, logically, that he'd been tortured by someone he trusted - and yet he'd continued to put his faith in her, had accepted her apologies. Who apologised for torture? For the things she'd done? Sabah did. She got away with it, too, and he'd found out that he hadn't died because Jacques had come back. That had been the only reason.
He'd felt sick of himself for a few years, after that. Women can't harm you. He'd been told that before, time and time again. By his father, by his brothers, by some of his sisters. By Jacques. Sure, they can beat you in a fight; but they are not capable of the things that men can do.
The fact that his younger self had accepted that, he supposed, had lead to the events. The apology had been all Sabah had needed, even as she continually proved herself to not care. Even as she continued some of the behaviours. In recent years, it had become less; more about pushing him around and emotionally messing with him than anything she'd done before. He'd thought that maybe, just maybe, she'd grown out of it. It wasn't as if he could get her put in prison for any of it; nobody would believe him, the court would be in favour of Sabah, and he would be trying to ruin a young woman's life. He'd considered it before, had dismissed it. Had completely lost interest when she'd gotten better, had become more about intimidation than wrecking him.
And yet, he managed to be somewhat surprised at her betrayal. He hadn't expected her to turn her back on him after their years together, hadn't thought it was possible for her to dismiss him - but apparently, it was. And he was lost and alone, and scared. So. F*cking. Scared.
He spend the day sorting out belongings; getting a small suitcase and some clothes, buying a new phone (he could change the sim depending on country; he'd always preferred pay-as-you-go), and...that was it. There wasn't enough things to do to occupy his time. He'd managed to place a call with Vitaly, had been given a more personal number rather than the flower shop number (he'd been lucky that the man had even had his work mobile with him). Give me three days, Vitaly had said, and I will call you with some contacts. I think there will be some you will very much like.
The words, to his surprise, unnerved him. Hell, his nerves were shot - jumping at slammed doors or female voices (he'd always been wary of women; he was learning that he was terrified, now), always checking for possible escapes. He wasn't sure what had gotten into him.
Gale spent the flight in utter silence. He'd barely spoken a word, really. Confirmations here and there, but no small talk or conversation. He barely had the energy to go through the actions of the day, let alone hold an entire conversation. He felt bad. He still wanted Al to be able to try some more Egyptian homecooking - but that could wait. Jesus, that could definitely wait. When his leg was touched, he jerked it away a little too quickly, tensed more than he expected. "Don't touch me," he breathed, nearly inaudible.
Maxim was not what he expected, but then again, he didn't know what he'd expected. He flicked his gaze away as the two men conversed, instead chose to pay more attention to his surroundings. It wasn't good. He absently looked down at himself, began to pick at the bracelets of one arm and the skin underneath. The motion didn't help him as it often did.
He doesn't really want you here, came the thought, catching him a little off-guard. At this point, it's just pity. You're a child that needs to be taken care of because you can't take care of yourself. It would be much easier on him - and everyone else - to go before you cause more trouble. It would be easier to leave. No-one will notice; you'll be mentioned maybe once as one of the young lives who couldn't stand everything. Maybe not even that. People take their own lives away all the time. You've tried before. Maybe you just need the access to guns all the time.
He swallowed thickly. Didn't enjoy the intrusive thoughts, but couldn't stop them. They rolled on, about rope and knives and water and Sabah, it always came back to Sabah. He was lucky he was half-tuned into the conversation, otherwise he would've missed being talked to. The Russian made him falter and flick his gaze slowly to Al, before he looked back to Maxim and managed a distant smile.
"Yes, I speak Russian," he said quietly. God, he voice was rougher than he remembered. "My name is Gale Amari."
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Sept 12, 2017 1:45:25 GMT -5
It had been a strange change in Gale. The silence. He was used to the somewhat comfortable silences they had fallen into after his time at young man's apartment and the conversations. Gale could ramble quite a bit when he was really enthusiastic about something or when he was speaking of his past, Alphonse had come to find out from the time they spoke about Gale's new rifle. But now? Now he was silent. He supposed it was only natural with all he had lost. His friends... his family? It had been a bad situation for the young man, they didn't care about him. But he had cared about them.
That was his downfall, he supposed, putting his heart and all of himself into an unequal relationship where only Sabah benefited from his devotion. Though most of his older friends kept his mind slightly occupied of the death of his closest and truest friend, he kept a watchful eye on Gale. Things seemed to have changed between them and he wondered if he was seeing the true Gale now or if this was just a temporary engagement from his sorrow and pain. He wasn't sure.
He knew one thing for certain. Gale's words, soft as they were, surprised him and found himself pulling his hand back immediately following the words. Was Gale afraid of him? Swallowing thickly, he had merely whispered a soft "I'm sorry" in response to the shocking reaction. Things had been simple between him and Maxim from there and he tried to leave Gale's matters until later. He wasn't sure where he went wrong, but he realized one thing.
During his entire time at Gale's apartment, he couldn't remember ever touching the younger man except when Gale had patched him up. But then again, that meant Gale was touching him and not vice versa. When Maxim spoke to Gale, he mulled over that thought briefly paying attention to the conversation but also attempting to decipher where had went wrong. Gale had always seemed uncomfortable to Sabah's touch, but he had assumed that was something related to Sabah.
Perhaps he had been too quick to assume. He knew what kinds of actions could cause a similar response, but looking at Gale and noting the scars that he had merely accepted as common place - it would be hypocritical of him otherwise - he wondered for the first time the story behind those wounds. Shaking his head slightly, he leaned his head against his hand as he listened to Maxim respond to Gale.
It had came as a surprise that Gale knew Russian. That meant the young man knew Egyptian Arabic, Russian, and French. He assumed the young man also knew Greek considering where his group had settled and English considering the man had mentioned the individuals at the Cafe speaking it. But he wasn't sure. Five languages, though? That was quite an impressive repertoire. He wondered idly if Gale knew more than just that, but left the question unasked as he flitted his gaze over to Maxim who had an expression of slow recognition.
His eyes had widened before he grinned, "Ah, that's a good man." Maxim had said fondly. The Brigadier appreciated those who came seeking business with the Alkaevs who learned their mother tongue, had considered it a sign of respect. It was one of the reasons why Maxim had tried to return the favor and learned French, nowadays he called Alphonse at strange hours to practice. It was amusing to say the least. "I am Maxim Alkaev. I recognize you, you're Alphonse's friend. Any friend of Alphonse is a friend of mine."
Those words struck a chord and he found himself frowning slightly as he listened, tipping his head. The same words had been said to Clement when Maxim had met him, the two had stepped off on a good foot. Nobody could get a man to drink a bar like Clement did with his stories and witty banter. Before Maxim noticed the falter in his demeanor however, he schooled his features and the an continued.
"I must say though, my friend here has been through very much and he is like a brother to me. He treats those around him like his family, he takes care of his own," something in Maxim's eyes changed, they looked almost vicious for the briefest of moments. "I would kill those who cross him like I would any that touch my family." It was a warning, he understood almost immediately.
Considering Gale's fearful response from earlier, however, he chuckled and intervened. "Maxim, I can vouch for him. Please." Waving off Maxim's attempt at argument, he continued. "I think Gale is actually quite tired, we've had a long trip."
Recognition lit up in Maxim's eyes and the man nodded, "Come on. I'll show you to your rooms." The man spoke of the decor, talked about the change in scenes for his upcoming marriage with Viktor, and extended an invitation to him to attend. He listened as they walked, looking at the interior of the mansion, eye catching on a painting and a vase here and there before Maxim stopped before one of the guest rooms. "This is one of the few rooms yet to be touched Gale, I hope it suits your tastes. If anything discomforts you, tell me. I'd hate to be inhospitable to a friend of Alphonse."
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Post by Deleted on Sept 12, 2017 13:29:40 GMT -5
He felt bad. He was being an a** to Al and he knew it, but he wasn't sure how to fix it. He was trying to be fine but he wasn't fine, he felt like he was dying. That was all there was to it. The quiet apology twisted his gut like a knife have been shoved in, and he felt a wave of nausea but pushed it back. Was this going to be like, now? Realising everything Sabah had done in a darker light, feeling sick at stupid things? He absently crossed his arms to make himself a little smaller, glanced to Al from the corner of his eye but said nothing.
Maxim's threat made him tense - a brief thought of death isn't so bad moved through his brain, followed by I'm not going to hurt Al. It was a surprise - but he supposed that...Al was all he had left. He didn't know why he trusted the man, didn't know why he followed him, but he did and that was all that mattered. If that was the case, then yes, Al was all that he had left in this world. It was strange to think about.
"I'm not going to cross him," he said gently, gaze flicking briefly to Al once again before he refocused on the Russian man. It seemed he'd have to get used to speaking Russian often again; it had been a while since he'd spoken it, but he found the tongue relatively easy to fall back into. His pronunciation was smoother than he remembered.
He followed and listened, mostly. Didn't bother to take in his surroundings but rather focused on checking possible escape routes - which surprised him. He wasn't usually an escapist, but whatever. Maybe the capture had shaken him up. That was probably the answer. He paused when Maxim stopped, and tilted his head.
"Thank you," his smile was still faint; he couldn't quite manage to be better, but he was glad he remembered manners. Saying it, though - he didn't know why he felt awful. He'd have to figure out why soon, because he felt like he was being a pain. He didn't like that feeling much, didn't realise how much made him uncomfortable.
As he'd promised, Vitaly called three days later. He'd all but isolated himself, had focused on trying to piece his shattered mind back together. It wasn't working. Night terrors were common and he'd often wake only to find he was in a state of sleep paralysis; he realised, with some surprise, that he was terrified of being alone. That he woke up and his instant thought was find someone, but he couldn't. Couldn't bring himself to go to Al and talk to him, because he wasn't sure if he could keep himself together. Logically, he knew he needed to talk to someone - it had been something he'd been told years before in hospital. Talk, or we can't help you. The matter at hand was Vitaly, though; he could try talking later.
"I have numbers for you," Vitaly said cheerfully. In the background, Gale thought he could hear some sort of action movie. It was amusing, to say the least. "You are going to love some of them, my friend. One of them is Farouk. The other one is Amari," he sounded rather smug.
"N, K, or A?" he asked cautiously.
"N!" the other man sounded far too proud of himself, but Gale didn't focus on that. Instead, he swallowed and looked at the wall. He hadn't spoken to her for years - hadn't even...considered keeping in contact. He'd been seventeen when he'd left Nadya Amari to herself, hadn't even called. She hadn't seen him for that long, hadn't heard his voice. Guilt began to build up in his stomach, but he pushed it away quickly.
Vitaly was quick to recite the numbers, and Gale committed them to memory. After thanking the man, he hung up and input Nadya's number into his phone, but paused for a moment.
His hands were shaking. He noticed that. He swallowed thickly and fell back on his bed, put one arm over his eyes and took a deep breath before pressing on the call button and holding the phone to his ear. As the ringing went on, he became more aware of his quiet breaths (which weren't quite even), became more aware of how quickly his heart was beating. After the third ring, she picked up.
"Hallo," she greeted, voice as gentle as he remembered it. "Who is this?"
Her English was as rough as he remembered, her accent thick. He found himself smiling a little, but f*ck, he was so close to tears. It took him a moment to compose himself.
"This is Nadya Amari, right?" he spoke Romanian, which was...it was easy to come back to. So goddamn easy. He noticed the silence that followed. "We...haven't talked for a while. Seventeen years, actually. Imagine that."
"Gale?" he wasn't sure what he could hear in her voice. Sadness? Happiness? He couldn't tell. Hell, he'd never been good at picking up on emotions over the phone - other than Sabah's, but she was a surprisingly expressive person. He didn't want to think about her, though. Not now. "Oh, puiule," he supposed that the mindset was that he was still a child, judging by the term of endearment. He couldn't quite find it in himself to mind. "It's been so long! I have been so worried," her tone became more serious for a moment, "my beautiful boy, you are grounded."
"I'm in my thirties! You can't ground me!"
"Watch me, you little a**," she huffed softly. He heard a low growl in the background, found himself comforted by the sound of a dog. "Shh, Cyrus, don't worry. I'm not actually angry."
"Cyrus?"
"New dog," her tone was soft again, "well. New...for you. When you left, it was Kalb," she sighed softly, "is your naming sense still bad?"
"I haven't had any pets to check," he absently began to bite at his nails, watched the ceiling as he did so, "...mama, when I left, I didn't think about it. I was young and I was stupid, and that's not an excuse but - leaving with Sabah was not a healthy thing for me to do," she hummed for him to continue. "I'm safe, now. Safer than I've ever been, which is strange, considering the circumstances."
"Oh?"
"I mean. I was arrested! But then bailed out."
"You were arrested?"
"...mhm. But it was temporary. A few days in prison, not a big deal. I lived in Greece, but now I'm not in Greece," he frowned a little, "I'm with Fournier and his associates."
"Okay, I can trust that you're safe," she laughed quietly. "But Gale, my little one, getting involved with the mafia is not a little thing. Are you sure?"
"Nope," he squinted up at the ceiling, tried to make out patterns on it. "But I trust Fournier, so I think I'll be okay."
"If you trust Fournier, then I'll trust your judgement," the softness in her tone was comforting. Maybe this had been a good idea. "I would like to meet him one day, though. To make sure that he's not going to get my baby in trouble. You know. Normal mother things."
"You weren't banned from mother things," he said defensively, "you had Luca!"
"Luca joined the Eypgtian Armed Forces. I think...he's in the Egyptian Army? Yes," she sounded doubtful. "He used to write to me when he could, but he hasn't for a few years, now."
"I'll fight him for you."
"Gale, no. Fighting your siblings is not encouraged."
"I do what I want."
"I've realised that, but shhh. I think Luca needed a little bit of courage, and you leaving at seventeen helped him with that. You're still very, very grounded, and when I see you in person, I will settle the grounding in place."
"You've never grounded me before," he whined. Whined. He felt like a child again. She was most certainly in the mindset that he was still a child, but he couldn't blame her. It was his own fault - she hadn't been able to care for him and then he'd left. "How did Luc join the Egyptian Army?"
"By applying, I'd assume."
"He's as neurotic as I am!"
"Be nice!"
"You aren't denying it," he couldn't help it - he huffed out a quiet laugh. It wasn't long before he heard her join along.
"Just because it's true doesn't mean you should say it," she reprimanded gently. "Look, puiule, I have to go. I have some work to do - but you will visit me when you can, and you will keep in touch. Do you understand?"
"Yes, mama. I love you."
A pause, and then a quiet laugh. She sounded happier than she had when he'd started the call, which warmed his heart. "I love you too, my little one."
They hung up without farewells - neither of them had ever been in the habit. If you're seeing each-other soon, why say goodbye? she'd always said. He'd never understood, but he'd fallen into the habit when he was with her and so that was how it was. Gale lay on his bed for a few moments, and decided that he could call Altair later. He was shaking, now, and he was...happy. It was a surprise.
In the end, his call with Altair was short and brief (though the other man admitted he was glad that Gale was alive, which was something), and he agreed to help Gale reach out into the world a little. It was strange - there wasn't open hostility in Altair's voice, but something unfamiliar. He couldn't quite place it. He decided not to think on it too hard.
Early morning the next day, he decided to speak to Al. It was something he'd come to a conclusion over in the night; if he was sticking around with Al, he couldn't just take it out on the man. He couldn't just be quiet or hostile because of another matter - not when he wasn't the only one hurting. He checked the time to ensure that it wasn't too unreasonable, and quietly headed to Al's room, knocking quietly.
"Al," he said quietly, "it's Gale. I want to speak to you."
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Sept 12, 2017 14:15:03 GMT -5
After they had left Gale to his own devices, Maxim had taken him to a private study. It was a room where conversations were never repeated, the location of many sealed business deals, stories, and quiet conversations. He remembered the study. It was spacious with a wooden oak desk lavished by books, loose sheets of paper held firmly down by a lion figured paperweight, and a pen holder that was surprisingly empty save for one pen. Behind it was a large black leather chair. From the left of the door in, there was a large red sofa next to a small wooden coffee table set across from two black wingback chairs. The walls were lined with books.
It was as familiar as the day he had first entered it. Settling down into one of the wingback chairs, he offered the other man a smile as Maxim sat down across from him on the sofa. "My good friend," Maxim's French had always been a little rough, the pronunciation harsh, but understandable. "Let's set aside business matters. How are you?" He could almost feel the concern.
It sickened him.
Maintaining his smile, he raised an eyebrow at the question. It had came as a surprise. "It's been difficult," the words lingered in the air, an understatement that didn't even begin to explain the pit of despair he felt at the death of Clement. "But I've been -" Breaking apart. Lost. Exhausted. "Managing."
"I see," the words were slow and he could see in Maxim's eyes that he was searching for something that told him Alphonse was telling the truth. Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to find. Maxim relaxed slightly, but there was still something there Alphonse couldn't quite decipher. Not quite concern, not quite anything. "His death... it was difficult for all of us, but I understand it... hurt you quite a bit?" Maxim spoke as if he was walking on broken glass, navigating through dangerous waters toward an unseen destination.
Shaking his head, he ran his hand over his eyes. He had fled Seraphin to avoid this exact conversation, knew full well that if it lingered too long he would be ask about everything. He wanted to keep the last bits of his dignity and pride intact. "Yes, it was," he didn't know why he couldn't find the right word to explain the emptiness Clement's absence left, "painful. But I made him a promise quite awhile ago, when we were younger. I have no intentions of disappointing him."
Maxim had seemed satisfied with that answer, because next thing he knew, the brigadier smiled. "You are a good friend, Alphonse," it was strange to hear those words and all he could do was swallow thickly. There was a lump in his throat at the memory of Clement. "I'm certain he has no regrets." The conversation had lost its appeal, whatever comfort he had found in the Russian was gone. It was sheer luck that Maxim had not decide to press onto the matter of what had happened to his family, a blessing that he did not mention Seraphin again.
That night, he had chain smoked his way to morning. Thankfully, it didn't show or Maxim had decided not to mention it, whatever it had been, he did not look the gift horse in the mouth. Instead, they had spoke of lighter topics such as business. Maxim was full of praise for Eight, the Ukrainian hitman. He spoke highly of Artem and had provided him with the necessary details about the other Bratva's brigadier's habits. When his mind was occupied with work, the pain was almost unnoticeable.
The days passed by without much turmoil and he had found himself awake early before his alarm would have went off. He had always been an early riser, but the nightmares made it so that he hardly slept. He was lucky on the nights where he passed out due to sheer exhaustion. This particular morning, however, he took careful note of his appearance. Maxim had informed him that today was the day he and Artem would meet for the first time to go over the job itself. So he had taken the time that was allotted to him due to his inability to sleep to contemplate his course of action.
The soft knock at his door had came as a surprise. He knew Maxim was not an early riser and did not do so unless necessary. Raising an eyebrow, he slowly got to his feet before hearing Gale's voice. The words caused him to raise his eyebrow in confusion, but he didn't question it. Opening the door silently, he allowed Gale enough space to enter. "Hello Gale," he said, words quiet and soft. He still had yet to figure out what he had done wrong to cause the young man to react as he had. "Is there a problem?" Did Gale want to leave? Had he changed his mind? Whatever it was, he wasn't certain he wanted to hear it, but he awaited the answer patiently anyhow.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 12, 2017 14:36:06 GMT -5
Now that he was here, he didn't know what he wanted to say without oversharing. He wasn't here to tell his life story to Al, he just wanted...to explain some of his actions. Quietly, he moved past Al before crossing his arms somewhat nervously, picking at his bracelets and swallowing. He flicked his gaze away and steadied his breath - his breathing hadn't been the best recently - and his brows pulled down.
"It's not a problem," he said quietly. "An explanation. I'm not...going to apologise. You asked before if there was anything that makes me uncomfortable," he felt the bite of his fingernails digging into his skin, but paid no attention to it. "I don't like physical contact. It doesn't...just make me uncomfortable, though. It makes me feel sick," his tone grew softer. "I've been learning there are words that make me uncomfortable too, but I don't know them all yet."
It meant that the words were likely to be said. He was okay with that, he could trust Al not to say them again.
"My problems aren't yours, and I shouldn't be so," he couldn't find the words. His nose wrinkled and he lifted his shoulder in a shrug. "Whatever I've been like, I shouldn't be like that."
But he wasn't going to apologise. He'd apologised too much in the past, had done it every few seconds with Sabah for things that hadn't even been his fault. He didn't want to say sorry anymore, and he supposed he'd make Al aware of it.
"I'll be okay, though," it was easy to say because he wasn't sure if it was a lie. Maybe he would be fine. Maybe he wouldn't. The future wasn't definite, and he wasn't someone who could see ahead of time. "I just needed some time alone, mostly."
It felt like he'd spoken too much about himself, assumed that Al cared. He wasn't quite sure. He shifted his weight nervously and finally moved the hand that had been digging into his skin, shifted his weight and shoved his hands into his pockets so that he didn't continue doing that. Now that he'd said his part, he wasn't sure what else to say. Hell, he wasn't even sure what he wanted to get from this conversation.
"I found out that I don't like being alone, though. That's why I want to talk. You were the first person I thought of," it was strange to say that out loud. "And I felt like I owed you an explanation, so it worked out. Uh - if you have...questions. About Sabah. I'll answer them. Also, uh. How are you doing?"
That should've been his first question, but hey. He'd been rambly.
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Sept 12, 2017 15:39:18 GMT -5
The reason as to why Gale had withdrawn from him had been a matter of for him. It had caused him slight worry as to whether or not Gale had been okay, but also it had made him doubt his actions and how much of it had been appreciated by the younger man. However, he had been caught up in his own problems he hadn't actually considered bringing it up to the younger man. Having Gale here now, willing to speak about what had occurred, came as a surprise to him.
Watching the young man enter the room seemingly anxious and uncomfortable with the situation, he wondered if he had somehow messed up somewhere. Perhaps Maxim's threat had the finally decisive factor. With each word Gale said, he came to understand that he hadn't been the problem, but he had... unknowingly fed into it. Frowning slightly, he realized he felt slightly ashamed of himself for not being more considerate. Had he been caught up in his problems to that extent? Had Gale lied to him because he had seemed unwelcoming to the young man?
At the very least he knew now what he had done wrong. He had touched Gale, had assumed because Gale had responded negatively to Sabah's touch that it was exclusive to only Sabah. Nodding slowly, he raised a hand to run through his hair as he took in the information. It was... a lot to take in all at once, but he understood why to an extent. Well, at least it meant one thing. Gale trusted him now enough to tell him the truth. "I see," he said slowly. "I'll refrain from touching you from now on."
He knew that he had to emphasize that he would respect the boundaries Gale had set. He knew that it was the way to allow people like Gale - people like him - to feel safe. There were certain actions that were acceptable, certain words that were fine. And then there were those that were just... He took a deep breath before offering Gale a reassuring smile. "If I ever use one of the words you're uncomfortable with, tell me, please."
"I'm glad you thought of me though," he said, wondering if the words were awkward even as he gestured to his bed. "I'm always here if you need me. Would you like to sit down and talk?"
"I-" He found acknowledging and attempting to help Gale's problems easier than admitting to the existence of his own. Pausing, he looked at Gale, a lie already on the tip of his tongue. The young man had been nothing but honest to him right now. "I've been thinking about what happened as of late, but... what's done is done. There is little I can do to make things go back to the way they were before."
"I'll be okay," he said, echoing Gale's words. "It'll just take some time."
Looking at Gale, he tipped his head to a side contemplating if he had any questions for Gale. He realized, yes, he did, but there were those that were downright intrusive and those that he had no idea how Gale would react to. Holding his tongue for a few seconds, he finally sighed, lowering his head so that he could idly scratch the back of his neck. He decided, yes, he had questions, but no he didn't want to ask any of them. Instead, he found himself searching for Gale's eyes to lock gazes with the younger man. "I don't have any questions, but I want to tell you that you're not indebted to me. If you want to leave... if you decide you don't want to come with me any longer, I can arrange for you to leave if that's what you would like." It seemed out of place to say, but he wanted Gale to know he had an option to leave.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 12, 2017 21:18:10 GMT -5
He hadn't realised that it would be a relief to hear Al heed his boundaries, felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. Maybe he'd feel better after talking, maybe he wouldn't! He didn't know. Whatever tension had been relieved, however, returned quickly upon Al's words - goddamnit. He pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaled deeply, tried not to fall into whatever mess he'd been in over the past few days. It's a common word, he told himself firmly, people say it all the time. You can't just stop them from it. He could, however, stop Al from saying it, and that would be a start.
"That's one of them," he said softly. Didn't know if he needed to give an explanation, but found that he didn't particularly want to. "It sounds...stupid, I think, but the words I've found are...polite? It's silly."
Trying to soften it, trying not to sound ridiculous. He didn't know what Al would think of him, found himself nervous but - he had come here to talk and he wasn't going to back away from that. After a couple of seconds, he moved to the bed and perched awkwardly on the edge, gently curled his hands into fists and set them on his lap firmly. He had to try to stop picking at his skin whenever he got anxious; it was an unhealthy habit, but then again, he had plenty of those. Too many to list.
"Yeah, I'd like that," he swallowed thickly, tried to pay very little attention to the rising nausea. He didn't even know why he felt like this, had been learning things as he went.
Gale listened to Al quietly, took in his words. It made sense for the man to still be in pain - he had considered it a few times. I'm fine was a lie he was all too familiar with. It was a shame, really. A long time ago, he'd done nothing but tell the truth, often played games with others to get equal truths out of them. In more recent years, he'd been lying. Too much, out of...something. Fear, maybe. He didn't know why, didn't like it, though. It was probably time for that to stop, but it would be a hard habit to break.
"I know," he flicked his gaze to the other man instead of watching his hands, tilted his head a little. "If I wanted to leave, I could have done already. I know how to vanish," his smile was very faint, but there. He considered his words for another moment before continuing. "But I don't want to leave. I don't know why - but I want to be of help to you, so I'm going to stick around."
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Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Sept 12, 2017 22:03:31 GMT -5
Watching Gale pinch the bridge of his nose, something told Al he had already accidentally filtered in one of the words Gale was uncomfortable with. Hearing Gale's confirmation of his thoughts hadn't come as a surprise and he found himself frowning, trying to figure out which word it had been. Well, considering that he had been repeating Gale's statement nearly, it was either tell me or please. Frowning thoughtfully, he contemplated what Gale had said. The words I've found are polite. Barely stopping himself from asking for confirmation, he paused. It was probably please. It was the logical one, wasn't it? It was polite and tell me wasn't polite as far as he was concerned.
"I, uh," he paused, "I apologize." He finally said. It saddened him to some extent that Gale had found his own boundaries 'stupid' and 'silly' though and he found himself sighing softly. He had seated himself a fair distance from Gale, enough, he hoped, that the young man wasn't uncomfortable. "I don't think it's silly though and I'm glad you're telling me." He hoped Gale knew he was being sincere.
But at the very least, Gale didn't mind talking to him. The younger man wasn't going to take the easier way out and escape confrontation as he had been doing for... months? It was admirable, if he was to be honest. His eyes briefly trailed down at the signs of motion, briefly noticing how Gale picked at his skin before settling down. Was Gale that anxious to speak about what bothered him? When he thought about it, he realized that Sabah had not been kind to him. He had all the reasons in the world to be anxious and fearful about opening up. He had been with Sabah for years and the woman, in the few days he had come to meet and know her, was bad news. She was everything he despised and worse. She took pleasure from controlling and hurting and years with her was... well, it was damaging to say the very least.
It relieved him to some degree hearing that Gale didn't want to leave. It was... well, it wasn't new, but it had been the first time he had heard those words after everything that happened. He had thought that for everything he had done, for everything he had not done, and for all those he had failed, he was deserving of being left alone and abandoned. Perhaps that was why he isolated himself from those who cared about him, so that they would realize all his mistakes and leave. So he didn't have to feel the pain twice.
He wasn't sure how to respond to those words, how to tell Gale how much it meant to him that he wanted to help and was sticking around. "Well," he spoke softly, lowering his gaze for a moment to look at his hands. He had yet to wear on his gloves. Running his fingers over the small cuts and scrapes, he glanced back up, "I'm glad you want to stick around. I can't say that I feel deserving of you, but it means a lot to me."
"Which uh," he coughed, knowing how ill timed this conversation matter was considering how Gale was being genuine and honest about what bothered him, but he knew he had to bring it up eventually, "Brings me to what I've been thinking about. If you want to stay indefinitely, well, there are benefits to your loyalty. My associates and family members are all on my payroll." Sighing softly, he rubbed the back of his head, "It's ill timed, but how does half a million euro a year sound? Is that... okay?" He raised an eyebrow as he looked at the younger man, attempting to read his response.
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