(no subject)

[marcato]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, SATURNSCHILD. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 001.00.653.90 *** SATURNSCHILD has joined 001.00.653.90 <saturnschild> Hello. <saturnschild> I'm listening.

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[marcato]

[His eyes immediately lock onto the gun, that deadly glimmer catching in the overturned lights, and his chest tightens in response. He loathes that feeling, the bubbling terror of being alive. He pictures himself suffocating it with one of those tasseled pillows.]

They will.

[He's still focused on the gun, on Dandy's thumb and its precarious position. It would be so easy for him to shoot him and send him back into the darkness.

He swallows dryly.]

Place the gun on the table, dear Dandy. [He hates the way his voice sounds, the way his fear colors his syllables in subtle shades.] Your enemies aren't in this room.

[puppetmurder]

[Like a soothing balm to his soul, those words relax Dandy so easily, as if it were the whispering of a doting parent in the ear of an upset child. His shoulders that had been pinned to his ears, round downwards into boneless arms. His pinched expression falls slack and serene with a childlike bliss. A breathy laugh bubbles up from his chest as he turns his gaze, pinched at the corners with sudden comfort, towards Aunamee.

His thumb lifts from the hammer and it snaps forward with a loud click that almost breaks the tension between them like a twig snapping. Dandy's arms lift, pulled into the lazy gesture of a relaxed shrug as he sways towards the man.]

Oh, Aunamee, I would never shoot you! [His heavy brow knits up, his expression no less manic with mirth than it was with anger just seconds prior,] but fine, I will put it down. I only held onto it, just in case you were followed.

[And he does just that, turning towards where a brass and glass rolling cart is lined with liquor in crystal decanters. He sets the gun down and glances over his shoulder.]

Care for a drink?