Loki (hamrammr) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2013-06-27 18:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed, !plot, ~john mitchell (oe) |
Who: Mitchell (oe) and James Bond
Where: The pub
What: Mitchell is paranoid and attempts some ‘delaying’
When: Today, yes!
Rating: High for thoughts and topics (WARNING: spoilery for future plot)
Open: Nope
Status: Logged
Mitchell was nervous. Nervous and anxious and a wreck. Fucking vision. The last vision Desmond had had had become fucking true. But he couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t leave her. He couldn’t leave a single one of them - he had already lost too many himself. He had friends - better friends than he could ever have wished for. And girlfriend - no, a fiancée that was simply breathtaking. No, it wouldn’t happen. He couldn’t let it happen. He knew what loss felt like and this wouldn't happen to them. No. Mitchell swallowed and looked up. Bond sat in his usual place in his pub. Why the fuck would James even do it? They got along, didn’t they? They were fine. Was it because of what he was? Did James suddenly think him a danger? The thoughts gnawed at his sanity. He could not find an answer. Suddenly, he got up, rummaged through the bar and got two beers. He carried them over to Bond. It was weird being mortal, knowing that you could die so easily. He felt like a toy that was thrown in front of a child. For once, he wasn’t the predator, he wasn’t the fucking villain. He wasn't a fucking monster. “Hey, want one?” he asked Bond and said down opposite of him. He pushed the open bottle in front of the other person’s face before he had even gotten an answer. He wouldn’t leave, not until he was sure that James wouldn’t slit his throat. As far as James was aware, there was nothing untoward going on. He liked Mitchell, he felt comfortable and secure in his pub. He relaxed, he didn’t worry about the other patrons- and that wasn’t something he could say about many places. So, he had absolutely no intention of hurting Mitchell. If anyone had told him what Mitchell had seen, he would have told them they were crazy. He knew he wasn’t the most stable of people, but surely he had enough sanity left to know that Mitchell wasn’t a danger to him. Bond looked up as Mitchell approached, and gave him a bit of a smile. “Sure, thanks,” he shrugged, taking one of the bottle from him. He didn’t often drink beer, but it was a nice gesture. “Not to pry, but is everything okay? You seem... edgy...” he admitted, before taking a drink. Bond seemed fine, he seemed friendly and somehow that worried Mitchell even more. The question - it seemed to be packed with irony. Sure, everything was just perfect. How couldn’t it be? What was a knife in your throat? Women wore necklaces, why shouldn’t he decorate his with a cut? “Err... you... err... we’re fine, aren’t we?” he asked, unsure of how to put the actual question. Mitchell didn’t want to stir things that were better left unstirred. Are you okay with me having murdered about a thousand people in the past, might have had an unwanted side-effect. Okay, something was definitely up. Mitchell was acting really guilty about something, and Bond knew enough about people to recognise that. What was he covering up? Bond shifted slightly in his seat, starting to feel a bit uncomfortable with the situation. “Why wouldn’t we be?” he questioned him, frowning with concern. Would he tell him what was going on? Or was it some kind of secret guilt? This wasn’t good. "It's just to make sure because of my past and... well, considering where you worked..." Mitchell really did not want to get into details. The conversation was already turning into something awkward. Couldn't Bond have just said 'yes, you are a great guy'? That didn’t make any sense. Bond had been drinking in his pub for months. He’d been friendly enough, hadn’t he? He’d never said anything to make Mitchell feel as though he had some kind of problem with him- except, apparently he must have. Had he said something when he was drunk? Had Q said something? Did Q think he should have a problem- Bond’s thoughts were spiralling out of control. “Why now? Why would I suddenly have a problem with it?” he questioned him, wondering if there was more to the story. “Has something- changed?” No, not the direction he wanted. Very far from the direction he had wanted. He needed a good excuse. About now. "Err... I just had a nightmare. You tried to kill me... must have freaked me out more than it should.... Yeah." That was a halfway decent explanation and not too far from the truth. "It just gets you wondering, you know." Bond gave him a perplexed look, and then relaxed slightly, chuckling softly to himself. “You’ve been watching too many of those movies,” he suggested, with a shrug. He’d seen a few, now. Goldfinger, From Russia With Love- they were kind of hilarious. “It gets you wondering whether I want to kill you?” he asked, taking a swig of beer. It was still a bit of an extreme reaction to a nightmare, but he wasn’t one to talk, there. Bond's words certainly brought relief, he seemed fine with the explanation, at least halfway. "Kind of wants to let you make sure it doesn't happen. I don't fancy myself dead. I'm too good-looking to die." The last part was an attempt to stir the conversation into safer waters and frankly, the words just came out. James nodded, and gave a sort of resigned sigh. “I know that- you know I’m essentially a trained killer,” he told him, rather more seriously than he normally would talk to Mitchell. “But I can assure you that I take no pleasure in killing. It is work, and it isn’t easy. I don’t kill recreationally,” he told him. It had meant to be a reassurance. To let him know that he had no intentions of killing him, despite Mitchell’s past. But Mitchell’s past- James didn’t kill for pleasure. Mitchell had. He’d not really thought much about it before- Now Bond's words stayed from the reassuring road. Pleasure, that was the difference between them. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he had lived killing at one point. It had been more than just the addiction. The power and freedom had been overwhelming. "Just know that I'm not that man anymore. I give my best to make up for things I did, " Mitchell said and tried to add a reassuring smile. It came out more of a grimace than he had intended. “It wasn’t a judgement,” he added hastily, as soon as he realised that his words had been taken as a personal statement. “I just wanted to let you know that- I have no reason to kill you here,” he explained. Was that reassuring? It was about as good as he could do. Without someone to give him direct instructions to kill, he wouldn’t. Unless his life, or Q’s, was in danger- he wouldn’t kill here. He could be sure of that- couldn’t he? “I’ve known about your past for a while. I’m hardly about to change my mind. Why the sudden guilty conscience? Just this- nightmare?” he questioned him. On the rocky Road between relief and worry, they stirred to the safe side again. Mitchell laughed shortly at the 'sudden'. "There is nothing sudden about it." There wasn't a day when he wasn't at war with his past. James nodded in understanding, swirling the alcohol around in the bottle thoughtfully. “Well, as long as it remains firmly in the past, you’ve nothing to worry about from me. MI6, I may be- vampire slayer, I am certainly not,” he joked, trying to just make light of the dark topic of conversation. Mitchell smiled. “Hey, I do get along with Buffy rather well. And her destiny is to kill vampires.” It was a strange feeling. All the things he had learned from her, knowing that the reason she knew them was to kill people like him. Or rather to kill the person that he has been in the past. “Well, there we go, then!” he told him, as if that should be enough to ease his concerns. It was weird, though. But he supposed a nightmare could shake him a little if he already had a guilty conscience. He would have to keep an eye on this one. “Relax,” he insisted, forcing a bit of a smile. Mitchell nodded. “Thanks, mate.” He sipped at his beer and stared into the nothingness for a bit, lapsing back into his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if he felt reassured. He had hoped to find a reason as to why it would happen and erase it. But there was none, so why this vision? |