(no subject)

[anewlanguage]

[PRIVATE to DEAN and IRIS]

Bring me up to date on these murders. I was assuming they're like all the other slash and run numbers we get when it's too quiet, but sounds like people are all on edge about this one.

[PUBLIC]

Hey, kitchen staff, I say we get a little festive.

As a globe trotter, I don't really put much meaning to seasons; one hemisphere's fall is another one's scorcher, and all. But hell, maybe it'd help calm down the psychopaths if they had something regimented to focus on. They had some bullshit program like that in the prison I landed myself in back home.

Comments

[spam. later]

[routemistress]

[It's ridiculous, Iris tells herself sourly, that any grown woman should be sitting in her room wondering whether or not to text a man. More ridiculous still at her age; and yet that's exactly what's happening.

If he's not here, it's surely only because he's getting Ned settled in. Ned, whose need is greater than hers, if not the same need, and she's being selfish to consider herself next to that horror.

...That doesn't convince her either. Finally, she tells herself she's being an idiot, and goes and fetches some tools and a Lassiebot skeleton from the laboratory. If she's going to sit around being an emotional fuckwit, at least she can do something useful while she's fuckwitting.

Ned's Lassiebot is going to be a honeybee, symbolic both of his beekeeping lover at home and of Ned himself, working tirelessly to bring sweetness into others' lives. She can see it already: the body banded in gold and ...onyx or black enamel? She decides on enamel, both shinier and more practical, and the wings will be tiny panes of toughened glass with an opalescent finish burnished onto them.

The work is, as she knew it would be, a perfect distraction. By the time she's settled at her desk, a slightly scorched and stained labcoat pulled on over her scarlet silk babydoll nightie, peering through her protective goggles at the sliver of glass she's soldering into place on the tiny wing, she's almost forgotten what she was setting out to distract herself from.

Well, no, she hasn't. But she's doing a fairly good impression of it.]

[spam. later]

[anewlanguage]

[It takes some time for him to be satisfied that Ned will be all right alone for a few hours. He had questions to ask, but the majority of them will have to wait; the kid is rattled to the point of breaking.

Once he has Ned settled, he heads out, and he knocks twice before he walks in.]

Still up?

[spam. later]

[routemistress]

[She's right in the middle of a fiddly bit of welding, so she doesn't jump up, doesn't hurl herself at him; Iris only smiles down at her work, a small dimpled smile that feels like an inadequate seal on the fullbody golden-retriever happy bubbling up in the back of her mind.]

Been asleep for hours, can't you tell? I'm doing Ned's Lassiebot. 'Cause slamming the door after an 'orse's arse is me favourite 'obby.

[She tries and fails not to sound bitter; and she tries not to ask how Ned is, because she knows the answer.]

Ned settled, is 'e?

[anewlanguage]

[He moves in behind her, arm around her waist, a kiss to the back of her neck.]

As settled as he can be. He's safe, but I don't know if he feels like he is yet. It'll be a rough time for him, we'll see how he pulls out of it.

And I need t'hear you say something. For me.

[routemistress]

[She lays down her soldering iron before letting herself lean into it; the great solid strength of him, the rumble of his voice coming through his ribs into her body.

She doesn't want to think about Ned any more and perhaps that's selfish of her; but they've done all they can. It wasn't and might never be enough, but that can't be helped; especially here and now.]

I 'ate to say it, but that boy needs to learn to guard 'is borders. What? I'll recite Jabberwocky in Ancient Martian standing on me 'ead if it makes you 'appy.

[anewlanguage]

[Cain agrees, of course. He's seen too much to believe that anyone can make it through life being as guileless as Ned is. But he hates having to say it.

So, like Iris, he just sets that aside for now. His hand gently cups her jaw and turns her face up to his, baring her throat.]

Say 'What happened to Ned wasn't my fault'.

[routemistress]

[She loves the way he holds her, loves how she can go pliant in his hands - as she is now, her head tilting back to catch those ridiculously blue eyes on hers.]

Jabberwocky might be easier.

[But it's not a real protest, and she lets her head rest against him.]

What 'appened to Ned weren't our fault.

[Keep her at it and she might start believing it, in time.]

[anewlanguage]

[He smiles with one corner of his mouth. It's a start.]

You wanna try it like you're convincing me?

[routemistress]

[She draws a deep breath and lets it out, slow and soundless.]

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves... no, all right.

[She reaches for his hand then, and holds onto it, carefully feeling along the bones, the tendons and calluses.]

I know it weren't. Even if I'd stopped it, 'e were threatening Ned's dog; I might've saved Ned, I might even 'ave saved meself, but I couldn't've managed Digby as well. So it were for the best. I'm very angry.

[anewlanguage]

So am I. A couple of years ago I'd have Hannibal drawn and quartered and thrown overboard before anyone knew he was missing, too. That doesn't seem quite right, and I guess you feel the same, since you're here talking to me, eh?

[He moves around, pulls her up, and moves them to the bed where they can be face to face.]

So what do we do instead?

[routemistress]

[She presses close, her hands on his ribcage; she's pliant still, moving with him, but this close, the bristling tension under her skin is palpable.]

I usually do. Right now I only wouldn't let you do it for your sake. I told you once, the best revenge is living well; I did mean it. We 'ad a version of Lecter 'ere once before: graduated. So I 'ave to believe this one can.

[She twists her hands, very deliberately, into the fabric of his shirt and pulls, sudden and violently, hard enough to pop buttons loose.]

Oops.

[anewlanguage]

[He laughs, listening to buttons bouncing on the floor.]

You are the real reason I thank God and my old sergeant I know how to sew.

[routemistress]

[Iris is not feeling humorous, but he can bring laughter out of her even when it's a wrench; it comes up now, sharp-edged. She leans her head on his chest and runs her hands along his waist and the base of his ribcage.]

I'm a force for chaos and destruction by nature, I'm afraid. I can put this anger away. I keep it stashed for emergencies, you know; it's a brain thing. I 'it Victor between the eyes with it once; 'e didn't 'alf howl. I've seen you do summat like it.

[He knows how she works, possibly better than any human she's ever encountered. Definitely better than most - no, than any - Time Lords, and that's both bizarre and excruciatingly precious to her.]

...I saw 'im call you a contradiction. You setting yourself up as bait, are you?

[anewlanguage]

[Talk of Hannibal pulls him back to business. Which, considering his concern for Ned, might be a good thing.]

I can't wrap my head around which contradictions he spotted. But no. He wants to take a swing at me I'll cut his arms off, but otherwise I doubt we'll share space anywhere.

[routemistress]

You were a bit too curious. Convincing enough; 'e's just on the sharp side.

[It hadn't convinced her either, but it would have if she hadn't known him.

And then she giggles.]

...aye, I don't s'pose 'e'll be working in the kitchen any time soon.

[anewlanguage]

I am curious. I just can't tell if he knows why yet.

[Maybe that's the contradiction, then: Cain is bored, is sick to death, of serial killers, of people to fight. But on the other hand he's curious about their unique skillsets and characteristics--and he's not entirely sure why. Sadism, perhaps; there is a part of him that wants to use everything he finds against Hannibal and people like him.

It always simmers back down, though. He's done more than enough to fuck with people in his sixty-odd years. He has no real intention of doing anything to Hannibal, unless the man is stupid enough to go after Cain or someone Cain protects.

...And leave it to Iris to break him out of his thoughts with a joke, especially a sick one. He, of course, laughs with her, and means it.]

Not while I'm there. Lord knows I already can't stand organ meat, let alone whatever he throws on the grill as penance.

[routemistress]

That's 'cause 'e can't see the wood for the trees. Since when does curious need a reason?

[She's speaking of herself here, more than Cain; but she's recognised the signs. Curiosity, abstract and catholic, has been Iris' lifeblood all her life and she's familiar with all its flavours - the shrewd, investigative Cain she watched speaking to Hannibal is a new one on her and perhaps, she suspects, on him too.
Not that it hasn't always been in him; but she rather thinks it's always been turned to whatever end he had in view. Possibly it's a surprise to him to find that out of all the tools turned to his trade, this one's still ready to his hand.]

...It's one of the few things I don't like so much 'ere. No real scope for investigating. Finding out 'ow people work, though. That's never not fun.

[She laughs too, and runs her fingernails from the base of his ribcage around to his back.]

I like a nice bit of liver meself. I'm rather glad I weren't in the infirmary when 'e did 'is food run.

[anewlanguage]

[She's not wrong. He has always been intent on prying people apart, be it physically or mentally. But before, those interrogations had always been a way to find weaknesses, to find information no one would willingly or knowingly give.

On the Barge it's not about that. He could protect people, yes; but he can't necessarily stop Hannibal. He's accepted that. It's how the Barge works, and it makes all of this feel very new, like it's his first serial killer.]

Hah! I wonder if you would've seen through him. I bet he had some significant tells, handing out those dinner trays.

[routemistress]

[She goes still, in the way she does when she's forgotten to move because something's given her an idea.]

...I could find out. Maybe. People 'ere are funny about being hypnotised; can't blame 'em. But I can see exactly what they saw. If they let me.

...would I? Maybe. I always did think 'e were creepy.

[anewlanguage]

You wouldn't have to ask his permission exactly, would you? Course if you did he'd probably say 'yes' just to see what you could do.

[routemistress]

[She gives him a Look.]

I don't 'ave to ask anyone. But I do. I've been on the wrong end of it too often not to. Any road, I don't mean 'im. I'm not going in there. I were thinking of the people who saw 'im. You know all the things you don't remember you see? Except you do, of course; you just don't think about 'em. They're all still there. Know your way round a mind, you can unreel 'em frame by frame like an old movie.

[anewlanguage]

[He's ruthless in his methods, despite the compassion he's beginning to learn. When it comes to stopping serial killers, though, he's willing to pull stunts that would get him demoted as a Warden. He's still a work in progress, really.]

I can't see them turning down some help if it'd mean keeping this from happening again.

[routemistress]

[She loves that about him, though. Every time Iris takes the ethical option, every time she doesn't override someone's freedom of choice, it's a decision. They've both met people for whom it's not - Ned, for instance, who rarely has to make choices about what kind of person he's going to be, moment to moment.

She doesn't think she envies Ned that. He wears it like an albatross.]

I can ask. Might come in 'andy for 'is warden, when 'e gets one. I bet you there'll be no takers, though.

[She snorts in brief laughter.]

...Babs is always griping about 'ow surveillance cameras don't work 'ere too.

[anewlanguage]

We don't get a whole lot of volunteers around here. It just happens. I mean either we do it, or things go to hell, and that's what I'm counting on.

[routemistress]

Oh, I'll ask all right. Now you've got me thinking on it, I'm dead interested.

...Come to that, you've got to 'ave seen 'im in the kitchens. Want to fast-forward back over that, see if owt jumps out?