Re: Lakeside dock: Liam R/Lear L
It was too bad for dumbfuck here that the day he decided to grow a spine was the day the threats leveled at him weren't empty. Lear's sister was fucking Hela. He was the Midgard Serpent. This thing before him? This shell. Was nothing more than that. The husk of a lonely little man, who'd died just like he lived. Forgotten and for nothing. If the idiot wanted to think he couldn't be torn into shreds, saved by something as small and shoddy as death, let him. Lear sucked on one of his canines, his cigarette held between two cold fingers, with smoke spindling away on the wind. He looked down at the creature—not with repulsion, not with hatred. That would require caring, in some form or another. But, with the same look you'd give a pile of shit on the sidewalk.
"You're bothering me," Lear corrected, "and it's my lake. So, do what I fucking say, or I'll drag what's left of your shitty corpse to the dump myself. You can spend your days haunting fucking used condoms, knowing that even they served more of a fucking purpose than you ever did." He didn't speak with venom. It was all a cold, dead hiss, and Lear meant every word he said. "If you want to weep on people's fucking docks whenever you want, don't fucking do that shit again." He flicked his cigarette through the ghost. It landed in the water, another hiss in the night air. He crouched, coming down onto the balls of his feet, his forearms on his thighs. He let his hands dangle from loose wrists as he stared at the stupid thing. Lear looked over its face with a frigid, but invasive intensity. "Nod if you understand me." He gave the ghost a smile that didn't so much as reach his eyes. "Don't make me spank you. You won't fucking like it."