etraya | un: samil

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un: samil | video

[ cw: cannibalism themes throughout! mutilation may be mentioned.. somewhere in here. ]

So I was just minding my own goddamn business earlier, right? When one of the robots handed me a letter. Luckily, I did learn how to read. 'cause I guess the rest of you went out an' had a nice party without inviting me.

( the letter gets raised up, held high enough to be legible for several moments, before sam turns it in towards himself and starts reading off of it using a really poor imitation of hannibal's accent - )

You were enjoyed by many, especially myself. Your heart made for a delectable 'tar-tar'? The fuck is that supposed to be?

Anyway. Sorry to anyone who wasn't plannin' on eating people. Considering he fed me to myself, I doubt he mentioned it. I'd recommend staying the hell away from his place, especially considering how fucked it's gonna be once I'm done with it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

i'm just hanging out downstairs so
whatever you want to do is fine

[ Is there no self preservation at all. Just hanging out. Calmly. Yeah. Like it's easy. ]

Samil. In a world where people are concerned about you, it's whatever YOU want to do. If you want to say no, please say no. I'm used to being the one with the plan. I don't want to unilaterally decide what you're doing except I really want to unilaterally decide what you're doing. Do you want me to come there, or do you want to come here?

you're the guy who usually has a plan, i'm the guy who usually says plans are stupid and runs into shit headfirst because it's easier that way

so it really doesn't matter to me
if you want to tell me what to do then do it

I have more weapons here.

[ Tim will send directions to the Wayne manor carriage house and a passcode for the security system that he's adding in now. ]

For the record, I'll send out the cavalry if you're not here in 30 minutes.

terrifying
i'm walking

( - and he is, from the apartment building's common room over to wayne manor. given the calvary warning, sam opts not to dawdle along the way. or maybe that's the whole i just died bit. or died. . . some time ago. it doesn't matter. he was dead, he now isn't, and sam's opting to try and not think about it too deeply outside of that.

it's cutting it close to that thirty-minute deadline tim gave him when he does show up in front of the carriage house. doesn't bother with the passcode, and instead raps his knuckles against the frame of the door. )

[ Tim is ... working, mostly. It helps to feel like he's taking proactive steps.(It's reactive, and he feels like dirt about it, if dirt can be both sorry and angry. It's only proactive against the next time, and there won't be a next time.)

There's always half a dozen gizmos to dream up, information to scrape from the Network, and now this Hannibal to stalk. The great room is a disaster area by the time there's a knock on the door (not that it had started particularly tidy), but there's been a tremendous rearrangement of electronics, furniture, and sharp objects to get what he needs more readily available - and to make sure that the rest of the seats are safe to sit on. Normally? Pretty good chance someone's going to sit on something if they aim for anything other than Tim's spot.

The knock is almost late - yes, he can do all that and clockwatch - and Tim yanks the door open with one hand, tucking something away before the door's swung far enough for Sam to come in. Because it is Sam, so no need for blunt instruments. ]

Hey. Did the passcode not work?

( the door opens, leaving sam with his shoulders hunched over and eyes looking - beyond tim, into the messy carriage house behind him. )

I didn't try it.

( could have, but he figured it's tim's home, and when people are actively living in places -knocking's nice. it's the polite thing to do, after all. and given hannibal's reaction to sam entering a place he hadn't realized was occupied - well, better to be safe than sorry. right?

he walks in easily enough. lets himself into the room, idly categorizing the mess of things. more to just be nosy than anything else. )

Nice place. You working on something?

( or a few things. whichever. )

[ Tim forgets that the place is actually nice in reality and faithfully recreated here. It's a mix of new and old styles with much less reliance on polished woods and deeper colors than the Manor next door. Tim can only take credit for the detritus; it looks like this the first time he lived here. ]

Oh. Thanks. It's not mine. I did live here for awhile before and called dibs on it now, but it's actually a part of the Manor, so I'll pass the compliment along to Bruce.

[ The house and whatever its contents might reveal about is resident is actually easier than that question. Yes, he's working on finding the man who killed Sam. That's not - he shuts off a monitor and nods. ]

I think you have to get paid to call it work.

( who's bruce is the first question that comes to mind, except - sam doesn't care all that much, really. it's unnecessary information, and not shit he's going to pry into. so he lifts his shoulders in an idle shrug, and steps further into the carriage house. sam didn't bring anything with him, because he doesn't have anything to carry, really. )

I died a while ago.

( seems like a good place to start. ) Like, before that whole bullshit with the... whatever thing that was infecting this place. I came back a little before you - talked me off the edge.

( he came back from the dead, ari was gone, and everything had gone to hell and back. it was a mess. sam had other things to deal with. )

[ Tim weathers it as neutrally as he can. It's not his place to be more upset than Sam (nor would he be comfortable with letting that much show), but the distress bleeds out here and there. In the slightly open-mouthed expression, the avoidance of eye contact, the rigid line of his shoulders.

It's fine. Sam's fine. ]

Do you mean what Hannibal did, or ... twice?

[ There's no wrong answer. Or maybe there's no right answer. Neither is good or fixable. Tim would prefer less death, but he wants to be - supportive? He doesn't want to compound anything. ]

Nah, I mean - I only died once. What he did. It was just a while ago, an' I didn't mention it earlier 'cause there was other shit going on.

( the whatever it was that was causing people to go batshit. the crap that happened in the hospital. recovering after all of that. if it wasn't for the note, sam probably would've left it be for a while. )

Once is more than enough.

[ Tim ... needs a moment and can't simply bail to take it because he told Samil to come to Tim's house. All he gets to take is the briefest touch of a hand to his own chest and a burst of that gasping terror to get shocked back into consciousness at the hospital. (It's fine - anything is better than a mental slideshow of the greatest losses of Tim. Stay on the recent heart-stop trauma and leave the other stuff buried.) ]

... can we have a deal where we keep each other informed of things like this? Bad actors - or people who are actually taking the challenge of proving your universe the best by taking out the champions of other universes? Two way street?

Yeah.

( if shit had been less chaotic when it all happened, sam wouldn't have kept it quiet so long. he didn't really mean to either, it just kind of - happened. he's got people here, and sam isn't stupid enough not to recognize that even with ari's absence.

no need to talk about any of that though, especially when he can just - )

Y'know, you mentioned weapons, but all I'm seeing is clutter.

( it's not a complaint; the tone is playful. and sam opts to take the opportunity to start shoving over whatever random crap is on the couch. )

I think you need more stuff. There's still a lot of visible wall.

[ Oh, there are weapons around. Enough that Tim very careful to keep his eyes on Sam rather than give away their locations, but the room is covered to the point that - even having put some away for Sam's arrival, Tim's never more than 5 feet from a weapon.

Sam knowing where the weapons are isn't a problem in and of itself, but he's not going to just give them away. There has to be push to Sam's pull. ]

Because I'm good at my job. You might be bad at yours, too soon to tell. The weapons are around, but nowhere that you're going to sit in place of a chair for style points. As for the wall?

[ Tim smirks. ]

Maybe I left them blank for you to decorate. Or I didn't want anything in the way of the crossbow bolts.

Wow. ( the tone sounds almost hurt. almost. but it doesn't match the grin on his face, which stays there as he raises a hand to his chest. ) Bad at my job? Ouch. I felt that one, ( patting his chest, just over his heart. ) right here.

( just before he flops down onto the spot on the couch he's cleared off, legs spread out in front of him. )

I'd draw dicks on them right above where you can reach to clean 'em off, you don't want me decorating the walls. Crossbows though - that's a good enough reason for me.

[ He's not serious - or he's too good at sarcasm. As someone who is too good at sarcasm, Tim doesn't want to swing for another hit with a catty jest. Better to be just as cheshire, but nice. ]

Don't worry, I'll give you three compliments later to build you back up.

[ His eyes are focused behind Samil and up, where the wall meets the ceiling. The ceilings are high for the time the original was built, about nine and a half feet. Sure, he can't reach it with his feet on the ground, but who said anything about that? ]

What makes you think there's anything in this room I can't reach?

Do you have a ladder?

( tim isn't that small - sam is just teasing for the hell of it. his eyes look tim over, then up over his head to the ceiling above him. )

'cause I'm pretty sure your arms don't reach up that high.

( just saying. sam could reach it with minimal difficulty. )

I have a Sam, which is potentially better than a ladder because I can accidentally put my foot in your face for making me scrub dicks off the wall. Kill two birds with one stone.

[ The foot in the face has been added to dissuade Sam from testing the scenario. They don't need phallic scribbles. It's not up for debate. ]

I can touch the ceiling in a vertical jump. I can scrub the ceiling from the ground with the right tools, or by standing on at least 5 things in the room. Six, counting you.

You'd only need to stand on one if you stood on me.

( rather than having to grab five other objects. and sam is so much more fun to step on. right? right. he's still sitting, but he does lean forward instead of laying against the back of the couch. )

I'll leave the ceilings dick-less, for now, but I want it noted it's not your threat of feet shoved in my face that's convinced me.

[ Excuse you, only 2 of the 5 would need stacking. Without explaining, he steps cleanly up onto the back of the couch. His feet are nearish Sam's shoulders, but he's not touching him. Just dipping his head forward to keep smirk down at Sam as he casually touches the ceiling. ]

So noted. I'm going to have questions later about why it sounds like we're entering foot fetish territory, but I am curious about what convinced you.

Hey, man, you're the one who brought feet into this. I just said getting a foot to the face ain't gonna stop me if I'm really determined.

( with tim behind him, sam opts to lean back so he's looking back and up towards him. )

Anyway. Ceiling dicks're for brats. If I'm gonna be obnoxious, I'm going to do something way worse.

And you're the one who asked me to step on you. I think we know which is more outright suggestive.

[ Tim shifts to keep eye contact as Sam moves, no balance checks needed. Still with the same smirk, looking somewhere to the west of pleased. Alive. ]

Oooh, your worst. The bar's high - or should I say, it's low. You're going to have to crawl to clear it.

I'm gonna knock you over.

( it's the grin, the stupid pleased look on tim's face which isn't bad at all, especially given the way sam is grinning at him in return.

still makes him want to yank tim down off the back of the couch though. not that he's reaching for him yet, but the threat is there. )

If you knock me over, I could get hurt. Fall of about 3 feet - almost 9 for my head. Could be a concussion. That'd make for a lousy visit.

[ If the goal is to keep Sam's mind off what happened (which it is, ostensibly. That's the excuse for relieving Tim's fears) - then silliness can be encouraged. Laughter is medicinal. ]

Then again, you announced it, so you can try, but now I'm on guard for the move. How fast are you?

Do I come off as the kind of guy who'd let you hit your head?

( cause of course he won't. he will, however, reach up as high as he can, fingers grabbing for tim's shirt wherever he can reach so he can - yank him down a little. )

un: samil | video

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