[ the thing is, david's never really felt like he fits with the other survivors. far as he can tell they're all good people in ways he's not — wouldn't beat a man nearly blind because he owes money, for example. he's not particularly worried about keeping some moral high ground. ]
You think I give a shit about that? You clearly don't know me as well as you think.
[ this is a lie. unfortunately, he can't elaborate on the truth, because even he's not sure what it is. whether he wants to make sure he and david are completely different and not similar at all whatsoever, or because he's trying to find common ground with a survivor of all people, or because something in him can't deal with the idea of condemning survivors to fates worse than just getting slaughtered on a regular basis ... he doesn't want to actually address those conclusions. ]
But why? I get people telling me I'm a good guy for taking hits like giving a shit about some people is all it takes. Would've figured somebody on your side of things would get it, but it's like you wanna fight me about it too.
Course most of the time it feels like you wanna fight me for everything so I guess that shouldn't be a surprise.
[ like he's not the one always picking fights here ]
Edited (thought of a bit more don't look at me) 2023-10-01 12:53 (UTC)
[ did he write and delete a whole text arguing he's NOT a coward and actually the workshop is FINE? just ignore those typing dots, don't worry about it. ]
Couldn't even do us an upgrade to 'probably'? I thought we had something here, Chuck.
[ he doesn't respond to that one, because either david's coming, or he isn't.
he heads for the ironworks himself, not setting any new traps but not shutting any of the ones already set, either. he won't show david that kind of courtesy - not after he got hacked to death. but david's proven almost as good as jake at maneuvering the damn things anyway.
the upstairs office is cold and silent. it used to be a furnace when the ironworks was running. one man watching everything from above, making sure everything went smoothly, dishing out the punishments if it wasn't. sometimes him. sometimes his father. sometimes somebody else who could, at least for a little while, be trusted.
he leans against the console and waits. there's no way to sneak in here while he's watching, but he keeps an eye on both doors and the busted window carefully anyway. ]
[ eventually, david shows up. he does his best to get around closing as few traps as possible — no idea what evan classes as messing with his shit — and that slows him down, and he tries not to think about the fact that he's been through here so much lately that he's starting to recognise some of the signs of a trap at just a glance. not the most hidden ones, and he doesn't catch them quickly enough to make him feel confident not really taking his time to move through the estate, but enough to add weight to the box of things involving trapper that he opts not to think about. ]
[ david jogs up the outside staircase, hands shoved in his jacket pockets as he walks the landing and comes through the door. ]
Thought about how to boost my odds.
[ since evan's leaning against the console, david opts to take the chair and throw himself down in it (with little care for the way it creaks in protest when he does,) bag rattling as he swings it off his shoulder into his lap. ]
[ he also considers putting his feet up on the console but decides that'd probably be pushing it. ]
[ he can sense the closed traps, and can sort of track david's progress by that. but there's not many, so he just waits, and listens. the metal of every stair and walkway around here means that nobody approaches silently.
and because there's no stealth in david, at least not normally, he doesn't bother hiding his approach. evan listens to the creaking under every footstep, knowing exactly where he is.
he did remove the one trap from a few inches off the doorway, because funny as it might be to see david step in that after everything, and much as he wants the bastard to suffer, this might be the one moment to at least try to be cordial. and there's plenty more around if he changes his mind.
that trap is leaning in the corner as david saunters in and lands in the chair without asking permission, closer than evan expected but maybe not so much for someone who just recently killed him. evan himself doesn't move, although his eyes do lock on the bag david brought with him. ]
Yeah? How's that?
[ there's a cleaver hanging off evan's belt. not the same one david used, but no less dangerous it. ]
[ is he acting a little too comfortable? maybe, but that's how david does most things. he leans forward in the chair as he unzips the backpack and starts pulling things out, sets down a battered but intact coffee mug and a glass jar. follows up by setting down a half-full bottle of what purports to be scotch, but is really just bottom shelf whiskey. ]
Ain't much and it's not great, but hey.
[ it's not enough to get either of them drunk — maybe get a light buzz going at best if either of them wants — but truth be told david brought it for himself more than anything, to put him somewhere close to in the mind of sharing a drink with friends, having a talk about anything and (almost) everything. a bit of social lubricant, just not the way people tend to think of. ]
[ evan was expecting something actually dangerous in that bag. some of those explosives they've developed. a weapon. a bunch of rocks so he can try to beat evan with it if things go bad.
glass isn't exactly something unusable as a weapon, but he sure as hell wasn't expecting alcohol. especially not enough to share. he stares at it as david sets it down, and then up at david, and wonders what in the fuck this is going to lead to.
but it's not a direct, immediate threat. which is a surprise. ]
Won't ask where you got it.
[ there's four places to get alcohol that he knows of, and it's always stolen. never a good idea to learn who got fucked over by losing their stash. but hell, if he was on their side, he'd do the same thing.
he waits until david's poured a measure for each of them to take whatever's offered, and lets the smell reach him through the mask. it's old and familiar and reminds him of things he'd rather not think of. ]
[ david lets out a quiet, amused breath at that. he can't decide if he'd want to know or not if he was in evan's position, but plausible deniability and having somebody bring it to you is probably the best option. ]
[ he pours them both a measure and nudges the mug toward evan, taking the jar for himself, no idea what goes through evan's head but at this point the smell of cheap liquor is, for david, the smell of some of the only good times he ever has anymore. some of the most miserable too, but somehow it's easier to let those go. already, just having a drink in his hand has improved his mood. ]
[ maybe he's also considered how easy it would be to smash this bottle to use it as a weapon, but one shouldn't sour the mood by letting that kind of thing linger at the front of their mind. ]
So.
[ david tilts his head up to look at evan, raises his eyebrows. ]
You invited me out here, so I think that means you go first.
[ he doesn't drink right away. he was never a heavy drinker - didn't need to be, not when the rage was always right there - but that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate it. still, unlike david, it's not something that'll help him loosen up and talk more easily. he needs a clear mind for that. one unclouded by being drunk - or being furious.
evan watches david instead, seeing no rage, no demands, no uncertainty. not yet, anyway. one wrong word and it all goes to hell, he knows. but he doesn't want to talk about any of this. address even a single idea fermenting in the rot of his skull. ]
You keep gettin' in my way. Fucking around. Never learning. Keep gettin' better at it.
[ it's hard to put it into words, especially for him. but, for the moment, he'll try. ]
You, coupla the others. You do stupid shit and it sticks. Start wanting to see what else you do next.
[ he pushes the mask up partway - just enough to drink. the whiskey burns like fire, but that's fine. that's what it should do. ]
[ honestly after this long, david doesn't hate many of the killers in any real way, most of them are just playing their parts same as him. sure he'd jump on the chance to kick the shit out of most of them, but he saves his ire for the likes of the ones like ghost face, freddy. the ones who get off on tormenting people outside trials. ]
[ it makes shit like this easier, he's learning. makes it easy to just listen while evan talks, tries to sort out his thoughts-- well. david does open his mouth when evan says they never learn, but he stops himself with a sip of whiskey. sucks in a breath through his teeth at the familiar burn of it. makes a quiet noise when evan drinks to indicate he's listening. thinking. ]
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hardlydead) wrote2021-11-01 05:44 am
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You think I give a shit about that? You clearly don't know me as well as you think.
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[ not that evan, or anyone else in existence, cares how ghost face feels. and that's a legitimate truth. ]
i've seen some of you ditch the others and run to save their own skins. if you were a real shithead, you'd do that.
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Tell you what.
I'll tell you how it felt if you tell me what your obsession with this shit is.
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well ]
just curious. shouldn't be, but i am.
[ this is a lie. unfortunately, he can't elaborate on the truth, because even he's not sure what it is. whether he wants to make sure he and david are completely different and not similar at all whatsoever, or because he's trying to find common ground with a survivor of all people, or because something in him can't deal with the idea of condemning survivors to fates worse than just getting slaughtered on a regular basis ... he doesn't want to actually address those conclusions. ]
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I get people telling me I'm a good guy for taking hits like giving a shit about some people is all it takes.
Would've figured somebody on your side of things would get it, but it's like you wanna fight me about it too.
Course most of the time it feels like you wanna fight me for everything so I guess that shouldn't be a surprise.
[ like he's not the one always picking fights here ]
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why are you trying to act like you're the worst fucker here? the fuck are you compensating for?
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And you're dodging the question.
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so are you.
you want to talk, you come out here. don't fuck with my shit on the way and maybe neither one of us gets killed.
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Where am I going?
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workshop. don't need eavesdroppers.
[ not that being in his workshop guarantees anything, but it's a lot less likely that anyone can sneak up on him in there. ]
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[ mr "i'm gonna cut your limbs off and put you in the furnace" ]
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[ that way he can throw david off the walkways if necessary. ]
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Couldn't even do us an upgrade to 'probably'? I thought we had something here, Chuck.
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depends on what you say and how pissed off i get. you can come out here on a maybe or you can hide and not get your answers.
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he heads for the ironworks himself, not setting any new traps but not shutting any of the ones already set, either. he won't show david that kind of courtesy - not after he got hacked to death. but david's proven almost as good as jake at maneuvering the damn things anyway.
the upstairs office is cold and silent. it used to be a furnace when the ironworks was running. one man watching everything from above, making sure everything went smoothly, dishing out the punishments if it wasn't. sometimes him. sometimes his father. sometimes somebody else who could, at least for a little while, be trusted.
he leans against the console and waits. there's no way to sneak in here while he's watching, but he keeps an eye on both doors and the busted window carefully anyway. ]
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[ david jogs up the outside staircase, hands shoved in his jacket pockets as he walks the landing and comes through the door. ]
Thought about how to boost my odds.
[ since evan's leaning against the console, david opts to take the chair and throw himself down in it (with little care for the way it creaks in protest when he does,) bag rattling as he swings it off his shoulder into his lap. ]
[ he also considers putting his feet up on the console but decides that'd probably be pushing it. ]
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and because there's no stealth in david, at least not normally, he doesn't bother hiding his approach. evan listens to the creaking under every footstep, knowing exactly where he is.
he did remove the one trap from a few inches off the doorway, because funny as it might be to see david step in that after everything, and much as he wants the bastard to suffer, this might be the one moment to at least try to be cordial. and there's plenty more around if he changes his mind.
that trap is leaning in the corner as david saunters in and lands in the chair without asking permission, closer than evan expected but maybe not so much for someone who just recently killed him. evan himself doesn't move, although his eyes do lock on the bag david brought with him. ]
Yeah? How's that?
[ there's a cleaver hanging off evan's belt. not the same one david used, but no less dangerous it. ]
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Ain't much and it's not great, but hey.
[ it's not enough to get either of them drunk — maybe get a light buzz going at best if either of them wants — but truth be told david brought it for himself more than anything, to put him somewhere close to in the mind of sharing a drink with friends, having a talk about anything and (almost) everything. a bit of social lubricant, just not the way people tend to think of. ]
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glass isn't exactly something unusable as a weapon, but he sure as hell wasn't expecting alcohol. especially not enough to share. he stares at it as david sets it down, and then up at david, and wonders what in the fuck this is going to lead to.
but it's not a direct, immediate threat. which is a surprise. ]
Won't ask where you got it.
[ there's four places to get alcohol that he knows of, and it's always stolen. never a good idea to learn who got fucked over by losing their stash. but hell, if he was on their side, he'd do the same thing.
he waits until david's poured a measure for each of them to take whatever's offered, and lets the smell reach him through the mask. it's old and familiar and reminds him of things he'd rather not think of. ]
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[ he pours them both a measure and nudges the mug toward evan, taking the jar for himself, no idea what goes through evan's head but at this point the smell of cheap liquor is, for david, the smell of some of the only good times he ever has anymore. some of the most miserable too, but somehow it's easier to let those go. already, just having a drink in his hand has improved his mood. ]
[ maybe he's also considered how easy it would be to smash this bottle to use it as a weapon, but one shouldn't sour the mood by letting that kind of thing linger at the front of their mind. ]
So.
[ david tilts his head up to look at evan, raises his eyebrows. ]
You invited me out here, so I think that means you go first.
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evan watches david instead, seeing no rage, no demands, no uncertainty. not yet, anyway. one wrong word and it all goes to hell, he knows. but he doesn't want to talk about any of this. address even a single idea fermenting in the rot of his skull. ]
You keep gettin' in my way. Fucking around. Never learning. Keep gettin' better at it.
[ it's hard to put it into words, especially for him. but, for the moment, he'll try. ]
You, coupla the others. You do stupid shit and it sticks. Start wanting to see what else you do next.
[ he pushes the mask up partway - just enough to drink. the whiskey burns like fire, but that's fine. that's what it should do. ]
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[ it makes shit like this easier, he's learning. makes it easy to just listen while evan talks, tries to sort out his thoughts-- well. david does open his mouth when evan says they never learn, but he stops himself with a sip of whiskey. sucks in a breath through his teeth at the familiar burn of it.
makes a quiet noise when evan drinks to indicate he's listening. thinking. ]
... That why you keep asking why I do what I do?
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