never_francesca | IC Inbox

[Her fist comes down on her desk, hard enough to dislodge the cigar ashtray there, which tumbles to the floor and breaks with a loud sound - thankfully it's designed to do that, a number of large pieces falling but the thing not shattering. But then she's in front of her, eye blazing and voice ferocious.]

This is not the time for one of your fucking performances.

She waves the papers she has under his nose.]

Do you understand how bad this is? And right now, I am the only person - the only one - giving you a chance to explain what happened.

This is it. One chance. Tell me why I shouldn't have you in zero for the next goddamn year over this.

[And there's something in her voice, the way she looks at him, that is pleading for him to actually do that. Have some substance. Please.]

[He outright jolts at the sounds, and he instinctively presses back into the chair when she moves in front of him, his gaze coming up to her for the first time.

His eyes are wide, already shining. There's honest fear there, because he has no doubt if Franky wanted to give him a lashing, she absolutely could.

Breath quickened, it's only the sound of her voice, the look in her eyes that keeps him from shutting down outright. He narrows his eyes as the tears escape.]

I told you what happened... [He grits his teeth.] I tried to help Sweeney, and I ended up killing him instead! What more is there to say?!

Fucking details!

[She yells it, suddenly, gritting her teeth afterwards.]

You know. Those things that make the difference between uncaring killing and a goddamn accident! Now I've got a hell of a story here, from Sweeney's warden.

So you've got a choice, right now. Let me be on your goddamn side or keep up this bullshit attitude.

[She slammed the file down on the table, sitting behind it. She'd had to do this before, for pilots. The ones that had deserved a chance, anyway. Sometimes they got so tangled in their own nonsense, in their belief that they were - and had to be - an island, that they tried to...well, act like this. Letting the past continue to define their future. Sometimes you had to shock the record out of the groove, else it would just play forever.]

[His breath shakes as he watches her. Actually, his whole body is shaking, but...

She's giving him a chance. Supposedly... She wouldn't lie to him, right? Not after... what she'd read from his file?

...

His hand comes up and takes his glasses off as he wipes at his eyes, and then the glasses.]

I was doing my work, as I had been. With all the chaos going on, I... did my best to help. Changing bandages and cleaning them.

[He gives a hard blink, putting his glasses back on.]

Sweeney was in. Had been, for awhile. I thought—

[His clasped hands give a brief shake.] —I thought... if he refused to face his issues, maybe what he needed was someone to force him to. Maybe... that's what he'd always needed.

[A slow, unsteady breath.] I won't lie... I was angry... hurt... frustrated... And that all contributed to what I said... and how I said it.

But I... [He clenches his teeth.] ... there was no evidence that I'd seen on the network, otherwise, to know we could actively worsen a person's condition. At the worst, it should have done nothing—!

[He reaches up and takes his glasses off again, pinching the bridge of his nose.]

...but Sweeney... he always has to be different.

[And, finally, by the end, some of the tension goes out of her form. It's bad, still, obviously, but - that's a far cry from what he'd been claiming at the start. Her head slowly nods, as she sinks into a chair, gesturing at him to do the same.]

[She reaches for a bottle of bourbon.]

Right, let's get those nerves steadied.

[Azul sags into his seat. More tears roll down his cheeks.

A shaky breath escapes, and his arm comes up to press against his face.]

[She pours out an equal measure into two glasses, placing one in front of him.]

Here. This will put hair on your chest. Or burn it off. Either way.

[There's no mirth to it, but it's a thing to say, as she thinks.]

[After a moment, he lowers his arm to look at the glass. Ugh, whiskey...

But whatever, fuck it.

He nods and takes the glass, tossing it back—]

[—fuck that was a horrible idea.

At least he manages to swallow most it down, even if he's coughing and gagging after, arm coming up to cover his mouth.]

[She downs hers with a slight grimace, but at the kick, not the taste.]

Good lad. Now.

What are we going to do, hmm?

[It takes him a moment to recompose himself. When he does, he leans back, already starting to feel a headache coming on.

He looks at Franky for a moment, then shakes his head.]

...I don't know. Isn't that your job?

[Doling out punishments when he misbehaves...]

Yes. And I will.

But what we're discussing is what you realize you did wrong, and what you think needs to happen now.

[A slow breath out. He looks down for a bit.

He's quiet for several moments, deep in thought. After a moment, he draws in a deep breath, and looks back up at Frankie.]

I will apologize to Sweeney, establish that I meant no harm, and... for both our sakes, it would be better to refrain from all communication from now on.

[And some of the tension seems to magically disappear from her shoulders. It's a mature, well-reasoned plan.]

I might give it a bit of time, but that's a reasonable approach.

[He glances away.] I don't intend to contact him until I feel reasonably sure he'll be done with his death toll.

[And that will be about a week or so after his revival.]

[She nods.]

A good start. Even after that, remember to ask permission first - goodness knows he might not want much to do with you, obviously.

IC Inbox

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

2/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject