Zee (fall_of_rain) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-02-13 14:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | black widow |
Who: Zee
What: Laying down the law and an alter switch
Where: Back room of the tattoo shop
When: Today
Warnings/Rating: No?
The early evening at the tattoo shop was quiet for Zee, the sound of one lone artist at work coming from the front room. He'd stashed himself in back so that he didn't get put on walk-in duty, and worked on some sketches while his mind wandered about what to do for Valentine's Day. Hunter hadn't really committed to wanting to do anything in particular, but that didn't especially surprise him. It only meant that Zee had to come up with something himself, something that would hopefully be more successful than his attempt with the lease at Christmas. Something smaller, maybe.
He started making a list on the side of his paper, different ideas that popped into his head. At the very top was a pink balloon. Even if it was small, he felt like he needed it after the discussion with Hunter. It would make him laugh, at least, and hopefully Hunter would too. The list continued after that - dinner (with a number of different options there, though a diner was at the top of that list), candy, something for Fluff. And then a big question mark next to the words "go back home". He had to smile at that one even though it made him a little uncertain. Cheesy and cliche to count on something like Valentine's Day to make any difference, but he wasn't going to turn anything down, either.
But into that quiet smile and contentment came the slow realization that he was standing in the doorway to the alley behind the shop, his fingers clenched around the wood of the doorjamb. His breathing was shaky, forced into a tremble by the overwhelming thought that he needed to go, to get out of the shop, to go to the hotel and through the door. Whoever it was in his head hadn't made a move this strong in weeks, and had at least stopped taking over his body in the night. But the force, something that wasn't even a request but a demand, was too much. He'd been willing to cooperate, had done it enough with Meg in the past, but this person had never seemed interested in cooperation. So he put his foot down, refusing to take another step.
"No." The word came out nearly as a growl, and a wash of surprise hit his mind. It had more feeling to it than anything else he had been able to pick up, and an identity. Not a name, but the sense of someone female, someone dangerous, before it was suddenly gone. Zee blinked a few times, trying to cope with the sudden silence where there had been watching and waiting and unease for more days than he cared to count. And into that silence came a new voice.
Qu'est-ce que c'est? Qui êtes-vous? French, and that was somehow a relief. He'd dealt with French before, and from the openness he found from this new person, he thought he could likely handle it again. He still remembered a few words, but it wasn't quite necessary as the thought behind the words was easy enough to follow. "Zee," he murmured, careful of being too loud and drawing the attention of his coworker out front. "My name's Zee." He tried to form a thought, to describe as clearly as possible about the hotel and Las Vegas. The voice was quiet, processing things for a moment before responding. You can call me Émile. The statement came with a soft rush of knowledge, that Émile wasn't quite who he said he was, but Zee simply nodded. He could live with Émile and all that twisted history that had just been handed over.