paradisalogs | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Who: Crowley and Faye
What: Getting answers
When: Today!
Where: Let's say Faye's room
Rating: We'll go with PG13 for now.

Crowley had been trying to get the truth out of Faye's attacker from her since he found her in the infirmary. As was typical of the woman, she evaded his questions at every opportunity and was always conveniently 'away'. He didn't get it, it was like she was trying to protect whoever it was or something.

...Which knowing the circles Faye often found herself in didn't surprise him at all. Still, Crowley was annoyed and this person, well, he needed to have words with them about proper conduct around people the demon considered 'his'.

And so, he came to her room in the wee small hours of the morning, when he assumed she'd be asleep. It was too late for the bars to be open, but too early for the sun to be up. Perfect timing to catch her, really. He hoped.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It was a good tactic, really. As a general rule, she didn't do too many things terribly well, but she was a master at evasion. And when it came to Crowley, she'd had a lot of practice. So far, the girl had managed to stay one step ahead at every turn, just out of proverbial and literal reach whenever he tried to pin her down long enough to get any information out of her. Every time, she'd flown off before he'd had much of a chance.

So, get her while she's sleeping.

And, apparently, he's finally got her. The lights are off, Faye is snoozing away in her bed.

It was the one time he KNEW she'd be still and he'd have a chance to trap her. He knew she hated being trapped, but really, desperate times called for desperate measures. So, with a wave of his hand to lock the door behind him, he stepped to the bed and gave her a poke.

"Valentine."

Whether she'd been awake before or not, she moved like she had--rolling over and pulling a weapon from under the pillow next to her in one motion, until Crowley very suddenly had a gun practically shoved in his face. It was almost like she'd been expecting someone.

Arms straight, hands steady, she almost didn't hesitate. The demon very nearly had to deal with the trouble of a silver bullet blasting a hole through his pretty face.

But the voice was enough. The recognition hit her at the right moment, just pausing her finger before she pulled the trigger.

"--Crowley?"

That would have been unfortunate. It would have stung like a buggery, without a doubt.

"Gee, thanks for not shooting me, that's nice of you," he said, moving to lounge on the foot of the bed. "Worried they'll come back?"

Lowering the gun, she pushed herself to sit up and immediately hit him with a glare.

"What is wrong with you??"

An angry response conveniently dodging his question-- odds are good that he's right.

Also, leaning to turn on the lamp sitting on the nightstand. Light was a good thing right now.

The demon shrugged, tilting his head to look at her.

"The same thing that's been wrong with me for the past week. Someone attack my girlfriend and I don't know who it is."

It was rare he even gave her such a title, but serious business meant serious words.

"Spike told me it was a vampire."

There was almost an argument against the title, because it caught her, grated, made this whole thing more uncomfortable.

...But then she swallowed whatever words had been there.

So, Spike tattled, huh?

After a minute, she settled back, set her gun beside her on the nightstand. A very small sign of surrender.

"Since when do you two talk? Don't tell me you're starting to become pals now."

"We're not pals, there's a good chance he told me just so he could prove he knew something about you I didn't," Crowley paused. "Which is a conversation for another time, because I don't think I even want to know what was happening between the two of you that night."

He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, lighting it and taking a long drag.

"So. Would you like to tell me which one it was, or would you like me to just hunt down every vampire in the place. I'm cool either way, to be honest, but maybe you've grown a conscience in the past few days and would prefer not to let innocent people get hurt."

She rolled her eyes at the first part. It helped her seem dismissive about this, instead of... whatever this was that she was feeling.

Anxious, at the very least.

It almost prompted her to go digging around for a cigarette of her own. ...But, instead, she leaned to reach for the bottle she'd had stashed under her bed, being the classy girl that she is.

"You're not going off after anybody."

Crowley didn't even blink an eyelid at the bottle, after all he was well used to Faye by now.

"There will be words, whichever way it goes," he replied. "It's up to you if I have words with a lot of them or just one of them."

It was a good thing that he didn't mind that bottle, maybe... because she gave it more attention than she was giving him-- taking a long sip, fidgeting with the label.

"Right. '...Words.' And what good do you think that's going to do, huh?"

"It will make me feel better," said Crowley evenly.

He took a long drag of his cigarette, blowing out a stream of smoke, watching it dissipate towards the ceiling.

"Why are you protecting who did this to you?"

She scoffed, rolled her eyes with a little more feeling than she probably should have.

"Please. I'm not protecting anyone but myself."

"So, what? You're afraid they'll come after you?" Crowley hunched his back a little, staring at the plume of smoke, fixating on it. "Because that's just boring and stupid."

Oh... that suddenly ramped up her anger a couple steps. Her eyes and voice got sharp, narrowing in at him.

"Boring? It's smart is what it is."

Anger is a better response than avoidance, as far as he's concerned. It means he's getting something from her.

"Why? Do you think I'd let someone hurt you?" though, of course, there have been times it's happened before, where he hasn't been able to stop it.

"Look..." She straightened up where she sat. Facing something like this head-on wasn't exactly her favorite way of dealing with things, but she'd been pushed a little too far in a couple of different directions lately to have the ability to dance around for long.

"You're not my white knight, okay? So don't bother trying to act like one."

"I prefer black knight to be honest," the demon replies. "You can get away with things like pushing people off the roof and such if you're a black knight."

"And then they come back, and the problem just gets bigger. We're all stuck in the same little cage, remember?"

She paused to take another drink--a small measure to try and quell some of the... everything. Nerves and anger and annoyance...

"So, it stays my problem, okay?"

Crowley rolled his eyes behind his shades, sitting back on his chair, staring at the ceiling.

"And one day your problem will make you dead," he replied. "You can't just keep living in your own little space bubble."

"That's just the problem," she mumbled toward the bottle in her hands. "If I could stay in my own little space bubble, I'd be fine."

And then she sighed, and used the bottle to gesture with.

"What good would you getting involved really do, huh?"

Crowley shrugged, folding his arms, trying to hold his ground here.

"Well for a start, I can stop it from happening again."

She matched the gesture, despite the bottle in her hands.

"Oh yeah? How?"

"I..."

Crowley paused, frowned. He wasn't sure. After all, Faye had a habit of getting into trouble. A lot. And bar from watching her for twenty four seven, which wouldn't go down well, there was nothing he could really do.

"You'd rather just risk your life again?"

Yeah, that's what she thought. And the reality of it makes her shoulders slump, leaning back against the headboard.

"'Again?' ...Have I ever stopped?"