Leon Orcot (under_arrest) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-01-21 13:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, leon orcot, revy |
Who: Leon and Revy
What: Leon's dreams mess him up.
When: This morning sometime.
Where: Revy's place
Warnings/Rating: Highish. Language because obviously. Lots of blood.
Status: Complete
Leon hadn’t even realized that D had any property outside of the petshop. As far as he’d been aware, the Count ate there, slept there, lived there. But despite his surprise, he supposed it wasn’t completely impossible that D rented out the top three floors of one of the most expensive high rises in LA, and he was even less surprised that the apartment apparently contained a huge fucking forest. Maybe this was another one of D’s illusions.
D was acting off, though Leon couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He was surprised at the room full of taxidermied creatures that all looked like something that would step out of one of those B-horror movies that had always given Leon nightmares, and while he began to question it, he didn’t know that the person who was in front of him wasn’t D until he asked if Leon wanted sugar in his tea.
“You know the answer to that,” Leon said, lowering the tea cup from his mouth. “Who are you? You’re not D, are you?”
It wasn’t, as Leon soon discovered. It was D’s father, and it was fucking freaky just how much he looked like Count D.
“We are the painters of unseen images. The caretakers of what has been lost. We are that which you choose to ignore,” Daddy D said, just as Leon passed out from whatever drug Daddy D had put in his tea.
When Leon awoke, he found himself in the middle of a forest. He woke up, surrounded by the same monsters that he’d found stuffed in Daddy’s D apartment, and it took him a moment to realize that some of these were the same animals that he’d seen way back when he had first met D, the time he’d fallen asleep in a museum and shot some sabertooth skeleton. It hadn’t been his proudest moment, and he almost put away his gun, convinced this was another weird ass dream. At least, until something that looked like a dragon slashed open his leg, and then his shoulder. The pain and the blood were real enough. This wasn’t a dream. He pulled out his gun, and began to shoot.
“How does it feel,” Daddy D’s voice echoed throughout the forest, “to be chased and hunted? How does it feel to be dying, detective? In Eden, there is only one rule. Kill or be killed.”
At this rate, he was going to run out of bullets, and if he got out of this goddamn fucking forest, he was going to want at least one bullet ready for Daddy D, to either gently persuade him to take Leon to the hospital, or to take him out so Leon could escape. Realizing that, he holstered his gun, and started killing the animals the old fashioned way - with his fists, with rocks, and eventually, with a large branch he managed to find.
He was bleeding pretty heavily by the time he made it out of the forest, and there… there was Daddy D, Agent Howell and… he was flooded with relief when he noticed his D there. Maybe it didn’ bode well for Leon, but his first instinct was that D would be able to help him get out of this mess.
He tossed the carcass of some three-eyed lizard at the feet of Daddy D. “Kill or be killed, eh? Easy fucking choice.”
Leon woke up, in pain and confused as fuck. Where was D, and Daddy D, and Agent Howell? It only took him a moment to realize that the pain was the same, but it must have been a Dream. He reached for the bottle of whiskey that he kept on the windowsill by his bed, and realized that it wasn’t there.
Where was he? Another moment, and he remembered. He and Revy had gone drinking, and he’d opted to crash on Revy’s couch instead of paying for a cab home. “Probably a good choice,” he muttered to himself, and sat up.
He was definitely going to have to go to the hospital. The wound in his leg was bleeding pretty freely. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been bleeding on Revy’s couch before he woke up, but there was already a nice puddle of blood pooling around his leg. He wiped the blood from his eye, and then pulled off his shirt to stanch the flow of blood from his leg. “Revy?” he called from the couch, his voice calm but taut, and hopefully loud enough to wake his drinking companion. “I think I’m bleeding out on your couch.”
Revy wasn’t a terribly heavy sleeper, but as a rule of thumb she preferred to not have her sleep fucking interrupted. Especially after last night’s session of getting utterly hammered; they stumbled back to her craphole of a studio apartment where she ditched the shoes, the pants, and conked out in her bed in nothing but her underwear and shirt (Leon had seen her without pants, it wasn’t that traumatizing).
The initial grumbling was heard. It was ignored, and she dug her face further into her pillow. It wasn’t until she could have sworn that she heard ‘bleeding out on your couch’ that she groggily blinked, perked up from the softness of her mattress and looked over. “Um, what?”
Brows furrowed, she kicked off her blanket and stood, feet against the cold floor with a slightly throbbing head. Something she could mostly ignore, but she felt the headache increase when she took those few strides over to take a look at -
“Jesus fuck, Leon,” Revy groaned, rubbing her hand down her face. “You’re actually bleeding out on my couch. And you look like shit.”
“Really? Because I feel like a million bucks,” Leon snapped, wiping yet more blood from his eye. He doubted the wound on his forehead was really that bad, but head wounds bled like a motherfucker which was a goddamn pain in the ass. “I should get outside before we call the ambulance,” he said, reaching for the cigarettes and the lighter he’d left on the coffee table. He crammed one of the smokes in his mouth, and after a couple shots with the lighter - he hadn’t realized how much his hands were shaking until then - he managed to get it lit. “We’ll say I was attacked by a mountain lion that wandered into town.”
Revy’s mouth opened for a protest. Nothing came out - more like a grumble of incoherence, nothing that made verbal sense. Calling the ambulance and trying to explain how the fuck he woke up like this on her couch would raise eyebrows, and the excuse was kind of fucking stupid but they didn’t have much else to go by, do they?
“Hit and run, maybe,” she growled, a sigh with it, and went to swiftly retrieve the fallen pants. Blood and guts, she was very blase about it. No point in freaking out too bad; Leon was conscious, smoking a cigarette and making wisecracks. Still, she didn’t particularly fucking like seeing him covered in his own red stuff. Had her kind of uncomfortably twitchy if she were to be honest. “I’ll take you down; ride in the ambulance too. You can shut the fuck up about it.”
The last thing Leon wanted to do was explain how a cop woke up covered in wounds on the couch of an ex-con to a bunch of people who wouldn’t believe ‘my dreams did it.’ “Hit and run might work,” Leon said. Most of his wounds had come from animals, claws and teeth and whatever else those freakish creatures used, though he doubted that most of them would pass off as a mountain lion attack either.
As Revy left to get her pants, he tied his shirt around his leg as tight as he was able to. Then, he took a deep breath, grit his teeth, and pulled himself to his feet. He wasn’t expecting it to hurt as much as he did, and his leg almost buckled under his weight, though he steadied himself against the arm of the love seat. He fought back a bit of a smile. “I won’t say a word. Scout’s honour.” Then he glanced at the couch and grimaced. “I think I owe you a new loveseat.”
Now that she was properly dressed, shoes and all, bed hair still tangled, she quickly went to his side to be used as a crutch. Revy pulled his arm around her shoulder, put her arm around his waist and kept him steady so they could both make it out of the apartment. She was all lean muscle, kept up with the workouts on her spare time to make sure to keep that physique that was able to break bones and pick her teeth with it - she could do this, and help Leon down those goddamn stairs.
“Bloodstains give it personality,” she snorted, mouth curving into the slightest of smiles. Bloodied up and ripped into, this fucker was still kinda cheeky. Good sign there. “I’ll call the ambulance, put on my best panicked and shrieky-as-fuck voice on.”
Being cheeky was a great way to keep his mind off the pain. And from letting his mind wander to what would happen to him in his dreams. D being there really was a bit of a comfort that Leon couldn’t explain, but the fact remained that he was stuck at the top of a skyscraper with a possibly-immortal psychopath, his serial killer son, and a dick of an FBI agent, and if he was bleeding in the dream like he was in real life, he didn’t have a whole lot of time.
“This might all be worth it if only to hear that,” Leon grinned, letting most of his weight fall on Revy’s shoulders, though his grin faded into an uncharacteristically thoughtful expression as they walked out of the apartment. “What do you think about humans?” He asked. “Like, as a whole?”
Revy would put on a fucking show, then, just so he could get something out of a shit situation - see? She could be nice, sometimes. He could rest all his weight if he wanted; she could carry most of him, carefully making their way down the steps to avoid an accident that would send them both tumbling and fucking him up even more. She doubted he’d stay conscious after something like that.
But that question was strangely philosophical, the fuck? All she could assume that it had something to do with what he dreamt - and she did want to ask, later, just what the fuck happened. “We’re selfish assholes,” she answered, nonchalantly. “Even the ones with good intentions. And we’ll all end up destroying each other. It’s not cynicism. Just a fact.”
The stairs were a bitch, and he nearly pitched forward a couple of times. He held onto Revy with all the strength he had in his arms, thankful as all hell that she was there, and the string of curses did not stop until they made it to the bottom of the stairs, even as he mulled over Revy’s words.
Leon was hardly the sort of person who would come across as an idealist. He wasn’t shy about the fact that there were very few people in the world that he didn’t hate. Despite that though, he had always believed in the best of people. Maybe they’d never act on their goodness, but it was there, somewhere inside them. He’d once told D that if it came down to killing the last of a species to save Jack the Ripper, one of seven billion people on the planet that he hated, Leon wouldn’t hesitate to save the human.
Now… now he wasn’t entirely sure about that. He knew it was stupid to take to heart the words of a psychopath who’d just tried to murder him. “Like moths to a flame,” Leon muttered to himself - D’s words, from sometime back. “Maybe you’re right,” he said to Revy.
“Odd thing to bring up,” she mentioned, right as they finally reached the bottom of the stairway - the hardest part of the trip - and out they were, into the open where the sun was bright (extra bright for her but, y’know, drinking) and the streets were relatively bare. Early in the morning without much of anything. Just a couple cars passing by. It was a good time to do this.
Revy brought him to the side of the road - it’d be kinda realistic if he was actually on the ground. “Lay down, start complaining about being in pain - scream if you want, I’ll give the ambulance.”
“Was it?” Leon asked, a little dumbly. He was starting to get light headed and he was pretty sure that that was a bad sign. It took a moment for him to actually be able to see anything but a blinding white when he stepped outside, but after blinking a couple of times he was able to start to make things out.
He sat down heavily on the side of the road, glad to be off his feet. “I’d rather complain about my shirt,” Leon muttered, looking longingly at the shirt tied tightly around his thigh, already soaked through with blood. He’d loved his shirt, it had had a picture of a Holy Shih Tsu on it.
Still, he wanted this to be convincing and he had read somewhere that screaming and cursing was supposed to help with pain, so that’s exactly what he did, letting out a string of expletives that would make a sailor blush.
Complain about the shirt, more power to him - whatever he wanted to do to distract him from this shitty as fuck morning (and she’d make a note to get his sorry ass a new shirt, too). Morning air sucked in, the coolness sharp against her lungs and she pulled out her phone to make the call.
And put on an awesome fucking show, too. Shrieky panicked voice and everything, Revy almost did sound like a damsel in distress near tears. “Yes, hi--I need--there’s a guy, on the road--I think someone--someone ran him overor--he got attacked, I don’t know but there’s blood and--that’s the address, just send someone over, he needs help now! Please!”
Leon’s screaming in the background was a nice touch too. Sold the act rather nicely, and once the theatrics were over, she put her phone away to go right by his side. “Stay awake, asshole, there’ll be here soon.”
Screaming was a lot more work than Leon anticipated it being, so as soon as Revy hung up the phone he fell into silence, put his thumb and index finger together in the A-ok sign, and sat back. Was he panting? Good Lord, that was embarrassing.
“Good show, Rev,” he said, huffing and forcing a smile. He dropped his arm. “Practically a fucking Oscar nomination.Needed more tears though.” It was meant to be a joke; he'd be the only one to see actual tears, after all, but he had trouble adding a note of levity to his words.
Revy had to laugh, sort of. And behold - a sympathetic smile, so different than the wolfish grin that made her look like she’d go straight for the jugular. “Take it easy, fucker,” she said, tempted to light cigarettes for them both but the ambulance had been a quick response. Sirens could be heard from a distance. Traffic was minimal, it wouldn’t take long before they saw the lights and white truck coming at them.
“Took it like a champ and not a bitch. Proud of you, Orcot. When they get you patched up, I’ll get you steak. From the place you took me on our first ‘date,’” Revy snickered, pushing hair from his forehead. “I’ll keep the guns in my pants.”
As much relief as Leon felt at hearing the sirens, he probably would have wished they’d held out for five more minutes if he had known that he might have gotten a cigarette out of it. A cigarette and a nice, big bottle of whiskey to chug back. But knowing the ambulance was close and that he was still conscious made most of the worries that he had been refusing to think about - namely, him bleeding out and dying before he could get to the hospital - melt away.
“Told you it was a date,” Leon snorted. Later it would occur to him that she was probably just humouring him, but right now all he saw was his obvious victory in an unimportant argument. “I’ll need the red meat though.” A steady diet of nothing but hamburgers and steaks would probably set him right.
He donned a thoughtful expression, and then exhaling. “Thanks for this, Rev. Not sure what I’d’ve done if you hadn’t been around.” She’d probably think it ‘too sappy’ or something, but fuck it, he wanted her to know that he was grateful and he owed her. Preferably before the paramedics who were in the ambulance that turned the corner and came into view were around to hear it, since then she might actually decide it would have been better to just let him bleed to death.
It wasn’t that sappy. In a state like that anyone would have been scared waking up looking - and feeling - like they got fucking mauled. Revy probably would have reacted with a little more exasperations and a fuckton more ways to be creatively vulgar, but… “You would have survived,” she promised, honeycomb eyes squinting from the brightness of daybreak. “You’re a cockroach, Orcot. Annoying as fuck, but resilient. I just helped make it suck a little less.”
Having someone else around to just be there in a shitty situation was comforting. Human nature and all that.
Leon scowled at being a cockroach, even if he didn’t actually take much offense to it. Scowling was simply an expression that came easily to him. “You’re shit at compliments,” he said, deciding that being called a cockroach in this context probably was a compliment. “I hope you know that.”
The paramedics were out of the ambulance now, though as he saw them preparing the gerney be called out “I can walk.” Well, kind of. With help. “I really don’t need that thing.”
Oh, she did. Know that, that is, hence the shit-eating grin. And she did meant it as a compliment, considering those little creepy fuckers could survive the apocalypse and outlive the entire human race.
Revy rolled her eyes, fighting back the urge to pull out a cigarette and just watch him waddle pathetically to the ambulance. Fine, she’d help him up, grabbed his arm to drape it around her shoulder to help him to his feet. “C’mon, you macho fuck, let’s move your feet and get you up on that damn thing. And try to not be the worst patience in existence, got it? You’ll make it worse.”
Besides, she needed her drinking buddy back soon so she could watch him be a fucking fool with his attempts at picking up bimbos.