With a certain crowd. [Greed answers, pocketing his hands. He turns his head up towards the ceiling.] And liberating is an interesting way of putting it. It wasn't like I was hiding, Blue Eyes. Suppose they figured I'd show up sooner or later. Eh -
[He tips back his heel, throwing the toe of his boot up and into the air. Yeah, he remembers: Michael on his couch, the faint smell of soap on his skin, and defeat beaten into every, single one of his feathers. It'd started then, hadn't it? When his coveting hands first wandered before he even realized what it was he wanted.]
[The Sin pivots towards the door.] Wouldn't be right if I left you there, Blues. All things considered - [He doesn't elaborate. Michael's trying to have a good night, after all.]
[Instead, he reaches for the door and he feels something thunk against his chest.] No, I don't care what you are. I never have. And you say that, but I don't think you want to hear about who I've fucked. Besides, not sure they're really my stories to tell, hmn? [And why does it feel weird to talk about that? He sleeps around plenty, that's no secret. So why does it matter now?]
[It doesn't. But as his claws reach up to his throat and blindly hook a thin chain of steel hung about his neck, the former homunculus mindlessly thumbs open the side of his watch.]
[Greed narrows his eyes.]
[Michael's not in that picture.]
[Michael should be in that picture.]
[Fuck it.]
[The Sin throws the door open as he begins to wind his way through the bar. He dodges people, questions, the stray strokes of hands on his chest. It's to a window that he goes and as his fist curls around the frame, he yanks it open, sticking one leg over the sill. He can see a few icicles hanging from the fire escape.]
Y'know - [He bites, wedging the phone tight into his shoulder. The sound of the ladder being pulled down is loud and rusty.] - for a man that's over 10,000 years old, you're really fucking dense.
[His boots drum off the wrought iron, breaking apart sheets of ice.] It isn't strange, Blue Eyes. So you want to be alone with me. So what. [A whistle of wind nips at the receiver.] You think I don't?
[The cold air, while it doesn't do much, gives him all the excuses he needs. And as he continues his climb, the Sin focuses on the steel under his claws and on the slips of ice as they crack, break, and tumble into the alleyway below.]
Sorry, but that's something I can't do. [Ignoring him. He couldn't even if he wanted to.] Someone's gotta keep you from getting lost in your head.
[Finally, he clears the ledge, leaving the rumbling of the bar as a far-off echo. A couple of cars pass by and as they honk, the former homunculus idly begins to cross the roof. He pulls out a fresh cigarette, clicking his tongue.] Can't promise that, either. It's in my nature. But I'll try not to get you too involved. Fair enough?
[Greed quickly swipes his claws against the aluminum frame of a vent, coaxing a spark.] Maybe you forgot, but I own this place, Feathers. [He inhales, exhales, stopping at the edge.]
Michael - [He says his name this time.] - I'm going to ask you again. And I know, I'm cheating. You can hold it against me later. [The Sin shakes his wrist.]
no subject
[He tips back his heel, throwing the toe of his boot up and into the air. Yeah, he remembers: Michael on his couch, the faint smell of soap on his skin, and defeat beaten into every, single one of his feathers. It'd started then, hadn't it? When his coveting hands first wandered before he even realized what it was he wanted.]
[The Sin pivots towards the door.] Wouldn't be right if I left you there, Blues. All things considered - [He doesn't elaborate. Michael's trying to have a good night, after all.]
[Instead, he reaches for the door and he feels something thunk against his chest.] No, I don't care what you are. I never have. And you say that, but I don't think you want to hear about who I've fucked. Besides, not sure they're really my stories to tell, hmn? [And why does it feel weird to talk about that? He sleeps around plenty, that's no secret. So why does it matter now?]
[It doesn't. But as his claws reach up to his throat and blindly hook a thin chain of steel hung about his neck, the former homunculus mindlessly thumbs open the side of his watch.]
[Greed narrows his eyes.]
[Michael's not in that picture.]
[Michael should be in that picture.]
[Fuck it.]
[The Sin throws the door open as he begins to wind his way through the bar. He dodges people, questions, the stray strokes of hands on his chest. It's to a window that he goes and as his fist curls around the frame, he yanks it open, sticking one leg over the sill. He can see a few icicles hanging from the fire escape.]
Y'know - [He bites, wedging the phone tight into his shoulder. The sound of the ladder being pulled down is loud and rusty.] - for a man that's over 10,000 years old, you're really fucking dense.
[His boots drum off the wrought iron, breaking apart sheets of ice.] It isn't strange, Blue Eyes. So you want to be alone with me. So what. [A whistle of wind nips at the receiver.] You think I don't?
[The cold air, while it doesn't do much, gives him all the excuses he needs. And as he continues his climb, the Sin focuses on the steel under his claws and on the slips of ice as they crack, break, and tumble into the alleyway below.]
Sorry, but that's something I can't do. [Ignoring him. He couldn't even if he wanted to.] Someone's gotta keep you from getting lost in your head.
[Finally, he clears the ledge, leaving the rumbling of the bar as a far-off echo. A couple of cars pass by and as they honk, the former homunculus idly begins to cross the roof. He pulls out a fresh cigarette, clicking his tongue.] Can't promise that, either. It's in my nature. But I'll try not to get you too involved. Fair enough?
[Greed quickly swipes his claws against the aluminum frame of a vent, coaxing a spark.] Maybe you forgot, but I own this place, Feathers. [He inhales, exhales, stopping at the edge.]
Michael - [He says his name this time.] - I'm going to ask you again. And I know, I'm cheating. You can hold it against me later. [The Sin shakes his wrist.]
What do you want? What do you really want?