loki laufeyson (toberuled) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-08-06 00:46:00 |
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Entry tags: | arthur, eames, loki |
Who: Eames, Arthur, and Loki, later with Louis and Evan as well
What: A meeting.
Where: Passages.
When: Recently.
Warnings/Rating: None.
Arthur hadn’t expected Cory’s resistance to this plan to be quite so vehement. He was accustomed to a dull Cory, a conscience so mired in his own bleak outlook that he noticed almost nothing that wasn’t waved directly in his face. Arthur had become used to doing whatever he liked as long as he watched what he thought about Evan, Becky, or anyone related to the pair of them. He did much more checking of the journals than Cory did, for example, and for the most part Cory had no objections when Arthur did the equivalent of taking a dog on a walk and forcing him out the front door of his house and into the sunshine. It came as a complete surprise that Cory objected to carrying a gun. Such a litany of paranoia, about registration and laws and accidental death and injury. He was horrified at the idea of meeting Loki and even more horrified when he realized that Arthur was perfectly willing to deal with a real dead Louis if he thought that the man was a danger to Evan, Eames, or himself. This horror was all theoretical, as Arthur wasn’t actually planning on killing anyone, and wouldn't admit to ever killing anyone outside a dream, so after a heated argument, Cory took an anxious backseat and watched as Arthur fished out his least-ragged jeans and probably the only button down shirt he owned. Arthur found some gel under Cory’s mother’s sink and at least got the boy’s hair out of his damn eyes (amidst Cory’s half-hearted moaning that he hoped nobody saw him like this), so it was a frankly Arthur-like Cory that waited at the foot of the lobby stairs.
Eames had showered, as promised, and he looked slightly more presentable as he left his door than he did prior to the icy shower. Arthur had gone ahead, but Eames had taken the extra time to settle things slightly in Mombasa, as he expected Arthur would put a designer-covered foot down about him returning anytime soon. It was rather a stalling tactic, because Eames knew that Evan's appearance outside the door would make Arthur rethink the entire plan to meet with Loki. Eames fared much better with Evan's current bout of drinking than Evan did, the distance making the effect somehow less severe. But Evan, who had been on a binge for weeks now, had no such distance. Therefore, the man that wandered down into the lobby of Passages was mostly sober (thanks to Eames' stay in Mombasa), but rather a mess. Evan held onto the railing of the stairs like they were determined to move without his permission, and despite cleans jeans and a black t-shirt that wasn't vomited on, he still looked like shit. The shirt was loose on bone-thin shoulders, and the jeans fell lower on his hips than they should. His skin had an unhealthy yellow pallor to it, and the whites of his eyes were a bright, striking yellow that contrasted in a discomfiting way with the blue of his irises. He stepped off the bottom step, with Eames holding a very unsteady, very thready control over the man within, and he looked around for Arthur, spotting him at the opposite end of the stairs. "Don't mother, Arthur," he cautioned, even as he leaned back against the railing post at the foot of the stairs.
Loki hadn't considered for a moment that Louis might rally any time soon, but it seemed that was exactly what was happening. Meeting with Eames this side of the door had roused him some, as had Eames' dire warnings about what was bound to happen to Evan if anyone gave him the opportunity to go through with it. A dead Evan would be very difficult to work around, despite his bravado when they spoke, and Loki was not interested in dealing with the unknown of what might happen if Louis did something drastic in response to such a thing. A meeting, then, to try to work the issue through, but a meeting in which his control over Louis was not as complete as it had been before.
One would never know it to look at him, however. He'd tamed the impossible curls with some product found in Louis' apartment, rarely used, and dressed impeccably in a neat pair of dark slacks and a green button down he'd picked without even stopping to consider taking something else. There was no reason not to seem controlled and pulled-together, even if he had been forced to do the tiresomely menial work of washing the clothes by hand. He didn't know how humans could stand their little lives of a thousand chores. He didn't look tired, as Louis so often did, but did look a little bit hollower and leaner. He kept forgetting to eat. There was a sharpness to his gaze and an easy, confident grace to his movements that erased any doubt of who was in charge. "You look like you will fall over dead any moment," he said, without a hint of Scotland in the accent. "I'm not encouraged." He glanced over Arthur. "And you brought a guard. How sweet."
Arthur had barely been present when Cory had met Louis, and though he had asked Cory to show him the memory, there had been little to analyze except that Louis had been the anxious and clingy type. Cory had agreed and therefore, expecting that Evan would be in better hands, had backed off. Cory was angry that he had obviously made a mistake and Arthur was distracted from Loki’s glancing comment because Cory was attempting to demand control again at the sight of Evan is such awful shape. Arthur managed to win the battle by reminding him of the shared memory in which Evan had certainly been enjoying himself before killing Becky. He simply gave Loki a dirty look rather than actually replying, and he also did not attempt to help Evan/Eames down the stairs.
"Thank you for pointing out the obvious, darling," was Eames’ retort, and he didn't bother walking into the center of the lobby. Leaning against the end of the railing was perfectly sufficient, thank you. "As for a guard, I don't need one around you, and we both know it," he added, because despite Loki's bravado, Eames was rather certain that Loki wouldn't risk killing him, not unless he wanted to lose Louis' favor altogether; that seemed to matter for some reason that Eames hadn't quite grasped yet. In fact, the only reason he'd agreed to this meeting was in the hopes that it would reinvigorate the slumbering Louis, though he shared Arthur's opinion that Louis gave up rather too easily to be able to adequately handle Evan. "Why did you want to see me?" he asked, though he knew the answer to that too. Still, it never hurt to ask.
"Because we need to deal with this...problem," Loki said, gesturing to Evan's form on the whole. Louis was looking from behind his eyes, albeit blurrily, blearily. Being conscious was something he didn't much want, but Evan being dead was worse than facing what was out there. Very bad and very painful was beat out soundly by that terrifying, blackly panicking thought. "If you are not capable of ensuring he doesn't turn to drink in his hour of need, a different plan of action needs to be reached. You cannot expect to stay through the door forever, particularly not if he is very much set on death." He spread a long hand in gesture. "To my mind, very few physical restraints would be necessary to keep him confined in his weakened state long enough to purge his sickness. What happens after would need to be discussed, but I am willing to watch him personally, if I must.” A half roll of the eyes. “However much it grieves me to waste my time on another's weaknesses."
Eames smiled, and it was not a kind smile. In fact, it was entirely unkind, and Evan's features and the shadow of gaunt cheeks made it even more ominous. "No," he replied. Simply that. No. He would do nothing to stop it.
Loki didn't like that, not one bit, and it showed. His eyes narrowed. "So you would willingly submit to seeing him dead, your own future completely uncertain?" Now there was real panic inside, and he had to hold Louis down hard. "Are you suicidal as well? Have I simply lucked out in being presented with a hopeless case both ways?"
"I'm not making it easy for you," Eames said with a shrug. "And I've no interest in helping Evan, when it's all said and done." Which was obviously true, given the physical state Evan was in at present. "You should have considered this before you pushed him to it," he said carefully, over-enunciating, as if that would make Louis wake the fuck up.
Arthur’s poker face was not really all that good. He obviously didn’t like this situation one bit, and for once it wasn’t because of something Loki said. Loki’s plan was pretty much what Arthur had proposed earlier, and one he was completely willing to follow through with, because he wasn’t going to stand around and let Evan kill Eames. It was a solid negative from Eames at the proposal, however, and Arthur frowned. In the ensuing silence, he shifted a little on Cory’s old tennis shoes and in his blue zip-up hoodie, the one that was open but still hid the weapon Cory so objected to.
That did it. The thought of it was too ugly, too much a worst fear. "Why?" Louis asked, suddenly desperate, wide eyed and afraid. No, it certainly wasn't Loki anymore. Words flowed from him in a rush. "Why not? I didn't - I didn't push him, it wasn't me, I wouldn't have hurt him that way. Never, never in my life." His voice shook. There had just been too much gone wrong in the past few months, and he could take no more of it. Why couldn't things just be alright? Even if Evan didn't want him anymore, that was different than him being dead. He could never see him again, and it would still be bearable if Evan was alive somewhere, happy, maybe with someone else who could make him that way. "I'll stay away if he wants but I won't have him dying.” He set his jaw. He’d do whatever it took. Evan could hate him as much as he wanted to, and Eames too. “I won't have it."
Eames quirked a brow, and he glanced over at Arthur, before turning his attention to Loki- no, Louis. "Darling, you're going to have to grow yourself some bloody balls if you want to be at all useful here, and letting that bastard control you isn't doing anyone a bit of good. Evan had no idea it wasn't you and, for what it's bloody worth, you don't just walk away from a depressed, drunk bastard and give up." Which was, honestly, all Eames had wanted to say in the first place. He shrugged his shoulders. "I've no intention of helping him. He either does this on his own, or he finds people in Las Vegas who he hasn't ostracized to the point of hatred. I can't be the one keeping him from dying, you see." He rather hoped Arthur understood that too, though he suspected Arthur would do nothing of the sort.
No, Arthur didn’t. It simply wasn’t practical to give up the responsibility to someone else when you could just tie the man to a chair and get on with it. However, Arthur returned Eames’ glance when Louis made his oh-so-obvious appearance, the surprise there obvious. He had not expected that Louis would be capable of that kind of strength, as he doubted Loki would just step aside for the man in the middle of a conversation without at least a snide remark. At that point, Arthur decided this was just a ploy to get Louis to cooperate, which was fine by him. He relaxed visibly.
Somewhere, somehow, Louis found a reserve of rage. "You have no idea what I saw, or what it's been like for me, being apart from him and just knowing what he was off doing. But he asked me. He told me to go, so I went. I wasn't going to...throw myself at him, but I won't see him die, whether you care or not." He was intense, to be sure, still frightened, and angry. He had no idea where that had come from, but there it was. "You can be the one to let him die, to throw up your hands, which, I'll note, is precisely what you just accused me of doing. I'll do whatever it takes, on my own if I have to. If I have to lock him in a room and send that girl to private ruin to keep her away from him, I will. But don't you patronize me."
"I dislike him. Throwing my hands up is rather the point, Louis," Eames assured the angry man standing across from him. He wasn't really interested in the girl being mentioned just then, didn't associate her with Ariadne. "You're supposed to care about him, which means you don't throw up your hands. If someone I cared for told me to leave, while in such obvious dire straits, I would do no such thing." Which was also true. Arthur could tell him to take a short walk off a bloody pier and he wouldn't do it, not if Arthur was so obviously harming himself. "It comes to this, darling. You're either strong enough for this, or you aren't, and being strong enough doesn't involve threatening girls or letting Norse gods puppet you to make things worse. As for what you saw, we all saw things. You'll simply have to fall in line if you're going to use that excuse." Eames was not feeling particularly charitable.
Arthur had to control Cory again as the subject of Bianca came up. Was there anybody the kid didn’t feel he needed to defend at every turn? After this shift in both his weight and concentration, Arthur agreed to say something on order to keep the peace and control of Cory’s body. “The girl doesn’t need to be ruined. She has the right to be upset, and she’s going to be. We need to help Evan so that he is not so easily taken apart by what happened. Otherwise we’ll be protecting him for the rest of his life, and that hasn’t worked so far.”
"You can dislike him all you want," Louis snapped. He was clearly at a ragged edge, and he didn't like any of this. "But if you're going to abandon him, don't even think about chastising me for not picking up the pieces well enough for you when you're not willing to help." Eames’ callousness and his disregard infuriated him. Louis had been despairing, and almost mad, and now, on top of it, he was angrier than he could ever remember being. It was a rare thing, for him to get angry, and never, ever on his own behalf. "I knew what you were. I did. I made the mistake of trusting you, but I knew you were a selfish prick. I appreciate you underlining it for me."
His attention darted to Cory. They'd only met briefly in the past, but he didn't sound the way he remembered at all, or speak the way he had when they'd talked through the journals. "I'll decide what happens to the girl." Flat, cold, angry. He was in no state to negotiate, or to see reason on that point. "As for Evan, you're asking for magic. He's not stable, he hasn't been since the accident. But he was getting better." And that was what stung the most. Things had seemed like they finally might be going right for a change. His mouth twisted. "That is, until that girl wandered up and broke it all to pieces like a vindictive child."
"He was getting better because I was holding him together, Louis," Eames said, infuriating calm coming from Evan's normally smirky mouth. "He's right," he said motioning to Arthur. "Evan must do it for himself, and with the help of those here, not with us. We're no help to him in the end. We've our own lives, and our interest only extends so far." He refrained from saying that Arthur's, perhaps, extended father, as there had been the incident in the alley. But Louis was angry enough, and bringing that to light was hardly going to help anyone at present. "You left him in that bloody cab, and you didn't fight worth a fuck, and you're the one meant to be in love with him. Not me. So turn your anger inward, darling, and quit railing at everything around you. Bianca will be angry. There's no changing that. If someone killed your sibling, you'd be angry too. He needs to come to terms with it, and that's the long and short of it." End of story, obviously, as Eames turned toward the stairs and looked up them, as if climbing them seemed an almost impossible feat.
Arthur’s eyes narrowed, and there was little of Cory in the cold look. “This is about Evan, not the girl. If you touch her, you’re going to have an even bigger problem on your hands.” It was a threat, delivered as such. He was so confident in it that he turned away almost immediately after giving it, toward Eames and the steps.
It was like a series of sharp slaps, one after another, and at the end of it, Louis was left standing at the bottom of the stairs while they both turned away to go. He was stunned, really, and so angry - so angry. Eames had it all wrong. Inward was where that anger was always turned, until someone really worked to draw it out. So they were going to insult him, tell him it was his fault, command he take care of Evan and leave the girl to destroy him again if she wanted, and then walk away. With no sign of when they'd be back, or if. And Cory's alter, Arthur, wasn't he the one that had - yes, he was. He stalked toward them both, closing the distance between them.
"Don't you dare turn your back on me." Cold as death, and his voice broke. A sharp look to Arthur, "Funny how fucking him isn't apparently enough to draw even the slightest bit of care for his well-being. Don't even think about threatening me." He turned his attention back to Eames. "I want to talk to him. Before you leave me to twiddle my thumbs and wait for you to come back at your leisure, before you put him in my charge and wash your hands of him, and tell me what I have and haven't done, what I should and shouldn't do. You're going to stop talking to me like you have any right to judge me, and let me speak to him. Now."
Eames glanced over at Arthur, his expression indicating that he didn't think this was a good idea, but Arthur didn't speak up, and Eames stopped and shifted his vision back to the angry blond man in the room. "That is the trouble with you, isn't it? You blame others for everything, and you can work up quite a lather while doing it, but it's never your fault. You weren't about to help with the Bianca situation, and you weren't about during the bender, and you haven't been about since the memories. Darling, rather try looking inward on occasion."
And then Eames was gone. It was almost immediately obvious. Evan was better at drunken and hungover coordination than Eames was, and he was accustomed to a body that was shutting down. He looked around, clasped his gaze on Cory, then on Louis, and then he pointed toward the door, even as he moved forward. "Man, whatever is going on here, we can finish it at the bar."
Since Arthur had already done his threatening, and he did care for Evan (though not nearly in the way he cared for Eames, himself and the people they knew), so he didn’t bother responding to that. He was willing to care for the man for his own reasons, but Cory’s impulse was just charity with no return, and that set him apart from Louis already. He met Eames' look, but he assumed the man knew what he was doing, and unless someone was in danger of dying, he wouldn’t interfere... too bad that was now. When Evan stepped forward, so did he. “No.”
Louis blocked Evan moving any further with his body. If there had been any way, any way at all, that he could have punched Eames in the jaw without Evan suffering the repercussions, he would have. As it was, he was gone too quickly for Louis to say anything in response to him. Needless to say, if he never spoke to him again, it would be much, much too soon. "No we can't," he said, almost at the same time as Arthur. Louis looked like he was absolutely on the jagged edge, still angry beyond belief and despairing, and that Evan's first words after seeing him had indicated getting a drink hadn't helped at all.
Evan looked from one man to the other, and he groaned a tired, lazy groan. "Fine, man. Fine. I'll go crash then," he offered, moving around Louis with amazing balance, given the trouble Eames had been having. "Louis, what do you care, man? I won't drive, and I won't kill anyone on the way. It's cool." Cory got a much more amicable. "Later, man," before Evan made the rest of the trek to the Passages door, already reaching for the cell in his pocket to call a cab. He had a killer migraine, and maybe sleep wasn't a bad idea, just a nap, that would be alright.
Arthur didn’t correct Evan’s mistake. He imagined that with the hair and the manner, the man would figure it out eventually in the next few minutes. “I’m going to stay with you,” he said. Yet he didn’t move forward to touch him, and when he did move to shadow, he moved around the edge of the room very slowly. Looking away from Evan and the door, Arthur paused in his step and raised his eyebrows at Louis. Well? the look said.
Louis hardly needed the encouragement, and shot Arthur a vaguely surprised and suspicious look. Hadn't he just chimed in with Eames on not caring what happened to Evan? It didn't much help that he was the person Evan had sex with on the side.
Louis met Evan at the door, and took hold of his arm. "That wasn't me," he said, quickly. If he didn't fix this now, he wasn't going to have even the tiniest chance of helping him. "It was Loki that said those things. And I'm not going to let you go wander off into a corner and kill yourself, not quick with a gun and not slow with drinking. I'm sorry." It was obvious how desperate he was, how close to snapping entirely after all the things Eames had said, after what he'd seen. That didn't matter now, it couldn't. The apology was general - for not fighting harder for him, for not being there when he should have. This was his fault, Eames was right. He was worthless as it was, and if he didn't put this right, he'd be even less than that.
Evan turned around, even as he pulled his arm from Louis' grip, his back pressed to the hotel lobby doors. "Quit, man," he said of being grabbed. "I'm not some old guy that needs help walking to the cab," he assured them both, that same infuriating calm in his latently slurred words. "Listen, you can both watch me sleep. Whatever, but, yeah..." He trailed off, too tired for conversations about Loki, or about when Cory figured out how to use product in his hair. He shoved through the door a second later, and he finished dialing the cab. They could get their own, yeah, sure.