snowblindrpg | [log] Decoherence [open]

Think I already have.

[He shakes the bottle once more, then drops it into his coat pocket.]

Turn out your pockets.

[He was hoping he'd overlook that. Turn out your pockets sounds downright paternal.]

Don't feel like it.

[The Vicodin is one thing, but the harmonica is petty as it gets. What use would Alfie have for a fucking harmonica? Davesprite's posture shifts subtly as he says it, too, wary all over again as if he weren't already. Alfie can't be as fast as Bro, but an armed man is an armed man.]

Edited 2017-11-15 01:42 (UTC)

You want me to do it for you?

[His tone suggests that he absolutely does not think that Davesprite wants that.]

You think you can?

[Doubt and question. Alfie's not Bro. No one is Bro, and he's seen Bro go down, but it took a superpowered dog demon to do it. He hates this, because who wants to fight, but backing off from a challenge is never something he was offered. You take it, and you get your ass kicked if you can't match up.]

[And he's not armed, but that doesn't mean he can't do something. He's fast. Alfie doesn't have a tail.]

I think I've got a knife that I'd like not to use against you, but you'd like me to use it even less.

[It's not an answer, but at the same time, it sort of is.]

Then keep it to yourself if you're so opposed to using it. I'm not twisting your arm, am I?

[He's also not backing down, let alone reaching for his pocket.]

Empty your pockets.

[Alfie repeats, his voice level.]

Nah.

[Just as level back. His pulse is thrumming through his veins.]

[Alfie starts walking towards him, slowly but not at all hesitantly. The knife stays lowered, but it's still in his hand.]

[He hates it. There's presumption in it, the way Alfie has spoken and how he approaches him now, like he's just some dumbshit kid who's all talk. Like he'll get a little scared and hand over the goods. But the other, gnawing part is that the narrative's all wrong. Why doesn't he just fucking start this shit? Bro wouldn't have hesitated. The fight was the point.]

[His pulse doesn't calm at all, but he holds his ground until it feels like Alfie's close enough. Then his tail whips out with the intent to sweep Alfie off his feet. He doesn't just stay there, either. The point was always to move faster than the other dude, and he goes, moving sideways to try to get out from between him and the counter, away from the side he holds his knife on.]

[It works, and it works well. In terms of speed and agility, Alfie is in no way a match for Davesprite - and not for the first time, he wishes he had some decent, reliable back-up. He's had some allies here and there, but the only ones he'd felt he might really be able to come to trust are dead and gone. He's alone.

He hits the ground, landing on his hip and sending a shock of pain down his back and leg. It keeps the wind from being knocked out of him, though, and so he'll scramble up again easily - the knife still in his hand, and the bottle of Vicodin still in his pocket, on his feet but more unsteady than he'd been before.]

Fucking hell, kid--

[He's actually kind of impressed by that move, but damn if it wasn't annoying and inconvenient all the same.]

[Davesprite isn't interested in hanging around. Alfie can get up fine enough, sure, but he's already shoving a chair hard his directly as soon as he has his hands on it. He doesn't expect it to bowl him over (he didn't throw it or anything), but it's an obstacle, there to impede his path while he makes for the kitchen's exit. Lockdown isn't ending yet, and he doesn't want to be near Alfie if he has any intent to take the knife to him.]

[Alfie's expecting it more, this time, and so while it does slow him down, it doesn't slow him down much. He's able to use the chair for support, even, leaning on it as he dashes around it after Davesprite, keeping himself upright.]

[Fuck. Meant for an obstacle and now he's given him a passing handrail. Davesprite still has the speed advantage, but there's only so much good that does him when he's unarmed and can't get outside. Furniture is heavy and will slow him down if he tries anything with it, and that was never his style anyway; the chair was a fluke, quicker to maneuver, and it did him little good anyway.]

[The only thing he can do is lead the way to the room where he's left his things and make a dive for his discarded police utility belt to try to snatch up his pair of scissors from their loop. If he's fast enough, he'll wheel back around, point out and up.]

[In any case he's yelling:]

Just let me keep the fucking harmonica!

Why?

[Alfie follows him, stopping in the doorway and blocking the exit. He's not bulky like he used to be, but he's able to fill the doorway enough that it would be difficult for Davesprite to just slip past him.]

Honestly, why? Why should House be rewarded in this way?

[He can tell. Speed won't do shit if he smacks right into Alfie. He adjusts his posture as he watches him, rising upright and into a ready stance that looks more at home on a swordsman than a teen holding a pair of scissors. He's got both hands together on it, and he knows it's all wrong; this has nothing like the reach of even a broken half-sword. A sword has more bulk, a sword has some kind of hilt and guard, and a cutting edge that isn't dependent on the blades being held open. He's not shaking, but there's a harsh edge to his breath. The shades hide the fear in his eyes.]

I'm throwing him a surprise birthday party and I wanted to get him a present. It's no lady in a cake, but sometimes a dude has to improvise.

[He snorts, though it's an amused kind of snort.]

Set it down, lad, and you can go.

[That's the reasonable thing to do, the only thing to do, says Alfie's tone.]

No.

[Sharper there than the flat nah of before. It doesn't work that way. It never works that way. There's always a game to it, a catch, and he doesn't trust Alfie one bit, let alone when all the old instincts are swimming through his head.]

[Alfie's face hardens.]

Davesprite, if you'd like to coddle the man, find some other way to do it.

I'm not coddling him. Can't it be that I'm not cool with you ordering him around like that? Can't it be just that?

[That is why he's doing it. He doesn't move now, can't relax even a little.]

Then leave, and go comfort him.

Yeah, man, I'm gonna go give him a hug and a pat on the back. There there, House, go on an' cry into my shoulder. Have ourselves a whole manly fuckin' talk about our feelings and paint our nails after. You think that's going to work?

[Attempting to convince him that way, he means, but House has never been one for taking comfort straight even without the mocking tone he's put to it.]

I don't think this is.

[Alfie doesn't so much as twitch. He barely even blinks.]

You're not gonna get out of this room with anything you took, and that's just the fucking end of it.

[Alfie's steady posture and confidence are the most unnerving thing about the whole encounter.]

Really? Over a harmonica, bro? You've got the Vicodin.

It's not about the harmonica; surely you understand that. It's about what it represents. Mm? What it means to him.

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cw: past child abuse (just going to mark that as a standing warning instead of repeating each time)

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cw: some kind of weird ass toxic masculinity

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