ArchivedLogs:Nothing to Lose

Nothing to Lose
Dramatis Personae Anette and Killian
In Absentia	2016-01-23 "I'm not telling the dog I'm in love with you."
Location <BOM> The Spatters - Ascension Island
A comfortable three-bedroom cabin, sturdily built if inelegant. The front door opens up into a cozy sitting room with small bathroom; it is adjoined by a kitchenette with room for small table. The three bedrooms here -- two off the sitting room, one on the other side of the kitchen -- are not uniform in size nor layout, with the considerably smaller kitchen-adjacent room having its own screened-in porch. The sun WOULD be out and birds WOULD be singing if it weren't for the blizzard outside. If the howling wind weren't enough, lack of anything visible out the windows gives away the storm raging outside. Even the next cabin is just barely visible. Still, Anette doesn't seem too bothered. The heat's cranked up, the fireplace is already roaring at full blast. It seems Anette's woken up at a reasonable time for once, having managed a human sleep schedule. Besides getting the fire going, she's already got a pot of coffee brewing, the TV on with weather updates, and some HotPockets cooking in the microwave. Even cabin to cabin is not highly easy travel in this sort of weather. At least, not for bipedal creatures. And that's assuming that's where Killian came from. It's from the screened-in porch that there's noise. Not the first time he's come from this direction, though one of the few times he makes it known that he wants entrance, there's a slow creaking of the porch's outer door. The white wolf, heavy and so much more dramatic than a dog, is made for the weather. Blizzard winds toss its coat back and forth, snow covering the thick furs of his hide that would easily make him nearly vanish if he weren't entering a cabin. Once inside, the wolf shakes nose-to-tail and encroaches a window to the much warmer interior. Cold yellow eyes, vibrant against the rest of him, stare through the frost-rimmed glass. And, as if that's not enough to get Anette's attention past the sound of comfort food, coffee, and the weather station, there's soft 'ruff'-like noises in the place of what would be barks. It's really not that hard to get Anette's attention and the ruffs, she looks up. Apparently, strange animals approaching her window no longer shock as she merely rolls her eyes and makes her way to the door. "Wipe your paws, try not to track too much snow in," she says, holding the door open long enough for Killian to enter before she makes her way back towards the kitchen and pour herself a cup of coffee. "Do wolves like milkbones?" she yells back as she stirs some cream into her coffee. Low stalking steps of a wolf are not too unlike that of the collie, though there's no tail wag or happyprance involved. Slow, unhurried steps- with a slight pause just inside the door she holds for him as if listening to the 'wipe your paws' request. But he continues through without answering her more than that much. Coat is just a little damp by the time he's inside with most snow left in the screened-in porch, and more noticably missing in places where fresh-scars are currently healing. He follows her into the kitchen as he is, as silent as the snow beyond him. But before he shifts to a more reasonable form for indoors, his head lifts, cold wet nose to scent the room. It's a long few moments that he focuses on the unseeable. Teeth bare briefly, skin over muzzle wrinkled when his gaze falls back to her. The sudden anger is nothing near a pre-attack, but clearly the shifter is disgruntled about something. Anette shrugs slightly as the wolf seems distracted by his own thing, pulling her hotpockets mere seconds before the microwave goes off and taking it over to the dining room table. She watches Killian curiously as he makes himself at home, especially as his scars become visible, before his growling (literally) ruffles her feathers. "What's up?" she asks, visibly concerned though she remains at her seat, casually sipping at her coffee. The white wolf follows her to the table, tongue licking past partially-bared canines. Ears are perked, yellow eyes harsh, as he rears up to place large white paws on the tabletop. He shifts, then, digits lengthening into fingers with knuckles whitened by tension. White recedes, darkening into the blacks of his typical black leather jacket, black jeans- who needs winter gear when they can so easily have fur? But the shifting is either made more difficult by his annoyance or it's more uncomfortable than normal. When the shifter is in human form, he straightens, releasing his lean from the table. Killian's expression is stern but not wrinkled as the wolf's had been. And his voice, too calm for that intro, maybe a touch tired, "Did you think you would hide it from me? Or perhaps you didn't care if I noticed." Anette's feathers ruffle even more as the wolf approaches her with its teeth bared though she keeps her seat, merely taking another sip of her coffee. It's not until Killian shifts into his human self and speaks that her feathers relax and she sets the cup down. "Does it matter?" she asks simply, leaning back against her chair. "Pedro already found it and flushed what I had left." Killian is quiet, a caught breath releases slowly in his unrelated discomfort. Blue eyes consider her, a brow raised at her response. A short shake of his head precedes turning his back on her as he moves to the cabinets to take a mug from one. "Really." It should be a question, but lacks the inflection of one. He stares at the mug for a while, and then shifts to pour himself coffee. "How long ago was this? The scent is stale, a few days- a week, maybe." The latter are thoughts to himself while he turns, leaning back against the counter, steam of the coffee heating his face. "You don't care that you slipped?" Anette merely stares at the table in front of her, picking up her coffee again and taking another quick sip. She breathes slowly, carefully contemplating Killian's words and selecting her own before she speaks, despite the simplicity of his question. "Yeah, it was about a week. Only had it for a few days, used...twice?" She finally picks up a hotpocket and takes a bite, quickly looking up at Killian's second question, brows furrowed together. "Of course I care! What the hell do you want me to say or do? I fucked up and used and I wish I could say that it won't happen again but who the hell knows?" "You sound real committed." Killian says, "Do you need a babysitter?" This could be a joke- albeit a not very nice one- given the way his lips twitch in what could become a grin. But he's either too angry or too tired to make it more convincing. He takes a sip from his mug, and shakes his head again after. "I need you to try." Is his answer, and amends with, "Harder." He looks at her with that, more of a side glance than anything. "Maybe we should leave the city awhile. Leave your hotpockets and streetcorner buddies behind, clear your head." This, still lacksidasical, as if he's thinking out loud more than outright requesting anything. Anette merely rolls her eyes at Killian's attempt at a joke. "I'm fine. I just slipped, life got a little rough. Nightmares. Cravings hit." She takes another gulp of coffee before setting the mug down once more, staring straight at Killian. "Look, I'm trying. I promise. Now please can we move on to a different topic, like who ruined that pretty face of yours?" His idea of leaving the city gets a raised brow. "And go where? Hook Mountain? And just, what, sit in the forest and talk about our feelings? Yeah, sure," she says in a sarcastic tone that suggests she's not sold on the idea just yet but a small smirk finally breaking free. At least she thinks the idea is amusing. "There's always excuses. But just like apologies, promises…" Killian slips his free hand into his jacket to pull a small bottle from a hidden pocket and gestures with it vaguely in an 'et cetera' motion, "Don't mean a damn thing." He bites the little cork and holds it between his teeth as he empties the contents into the coffee. Nearly brimming over, he takes a good drink of it. The bottle is shortly enough stuffed back out of view. "Hook Mountain’s too close. Somewhere better- farther. And we ain't gotta talk at all. In this weather, survival will be enough to keep you distracted. And I'd be of more use just keeping you warm." This, with a wink. Better, now that the taste of rum is mixed in with the previously benign beverage. The questions about his already healing wounds is shrugged off in favor of his prior suggestion. A grin slowly grows across Anette's face as she watches Killian spike his coffee. "And I thought I was bitter..." She takes another bite of her hotpocket, chewing thoughtfully as she mulls over the idea of taking off somewhere. "Maybe," she says, breaking the silence once she finally swallows her food. "What use exactly would you have? Besides company and warmth of course," she says, waving her hand idly, dismissing those clearly unimportant things. "And if not talk, what would we be doing? Besides the obvious." "What use would I have?" There's a chuckle as he echoes her question, but it's not full of his normal amusement. Not yet. "I've spent far more time in the absence of company than with it. Far more time in silence than speaking. People get too-" Killian searches for the word, a dark sort of grin spreading in place of his faint scowling, "Caught up in words. Dependent." He takes another drink, and then looks at Anette again, this time in the more suggestive, observant manner, his eyes flicking down and back up. "Hunting, building- it's all a bit more difficult when covered in white." Anette nods along as Killian explains, pressing her lips together thoughtfully. "Alright, that makes sense," she finally says, picking up her coffee with both hands one more and taking a slow, long draw from it. "I can...definitely see the appeal of being alone and why you'd want to go back. Hell, I can even see why you'd want to go camping in the middle of winter. But..." Yellow eyes focus on Killian as he sits across from her, no expression, just watching. "...isn't inviting someone along defeating the purpose of escaping people?" "And leave you by yourself? Pretty sure that's what got us on this topic in the first place." The mug is set down on the counter before he makes his way back to the table. But he stands behind her rather than across from her, putting his hands on the back of her chair. Naturally, careful not to touch her wings even as he leans there. "The ones you would be escaping would be the ones you simply can't seem to avoid." "Ah, so that would make you my babysitter which, if I remember correctly, I said I didn't need," Anette says, finishing off what's left of her coffee. "And I thought we were going to drop that topic." As Killian stands behind her, she leans back against her chair, turning her head to face him. "Maybe I don't want to escape. Maybe self-destructive is all I've ever known and it's easier than...everything else," she murmurs quietly. Killian cants his head to one side curiously, and lifts a hand to brush back her hair behind one ear if she allows him to. And after 'enjoying' that moment, he straightens, releasing his touch as he responds, "Fine. Consider it dropped." Except, not. The grin flickers and wanes, and he turns to walk towards the common room. His hands shoved in his pockets, his steps lazily slow. "Easy." He considers the word, "There's so many things it would never get you. And if that's your goal- to have nothing so you've nothing to lose-" He shrugs, his smirk curling his tone but not visible since he still doesn't face her. "Then you're right, that's easy. We all have our 'easy.'" Killian's dark chuckle is quiet, admitting to something similar, in the same breath. Anette does indeed allow him too, a soft smile escaping for the briefest of moments at his touch. Once Killian walks away, she follows him with her eyes, though she remains seated in her chair. "I don't understand you. You of all people should understand. Between the Brotherhood and your...day job, you have every opportunity to lose everything. Why do you put yourself in that position?" She rises from the table and takes a moment, as if considering following Killian but she merely picks up her empty dishes and takes them to the sink. "What is your 'easy'?" "But I plan. Every step, it's all planned. It can go wrong, I'm no psychic." Killian turns his head as if to look back at her, but when she gets up to put her dishes away, he lets his attention drop to the television instead. "But I can.. weasel out of many shitty situations. Brotherhood or hits, makes no difference. I don't like to lose." Anything. Her question makes him pause, some silence stretching before he offers, "Letting my mind go to them." The animals, he implies, but that's all he gives as a direct reply. "You decide what you want. Ain't gonna badger you anymore unless you're back in the mess you were before." "Ah, now see, that's where we differ. A plan can't go wrong if you don't have one," Anette says, dumping her dishes in the sink before turning and entering the common area again, though she only makes it as far as the doorway before pausing and leaning against the frame. She ah's softly as he explains his 'easy'. "Don't blame you, the dog's got a good life. I'd shift to him as much as I could, too." She gives a quick sigh, crossing her arms in front of her chest and momentarily glancing to the floor. "I'm getting clean and I'm staying clean. Though..." her words fade, as if this was the hardest sentence thing she's had to say all night. "Thank you. For caring. For everything." "Not the plan, maybe, but every fucking thing else." To go wrong, that is. Killian shakes his head but he does turn to her as she speaks the last, more difficult words. His blue eyes narrow, a lighter grin lining his face just slightly. With her attention angled at the floor, he returns to her, stopping a breadth away. He lifts a hand, a knuckle to touch her chin to tip it up to him. "And that," caring, he means, his voice low as he continues, "Was never part of the plan. But it doesn't matter. That's why you become adaptable. Ever changing. No single plan, but one a'many." What could be more classic for a shapeshifter to say? "I didn't come here to be angry with you." His mood shifts with this, from amused to intent, his other hand moving to hold her waist. "It's been a long couple weeks." Anette slowly lifts her head up as Killian nudges it up, her eyes soft for once as she looks into his. “Is caring ever part of the plan?” His comment about his intentions gets a faint smirk. “Then why /did/ you come here, especially with the weather?” she asks, though the smile falls slightly, her hand reaching up to gently touch his face, fingertips brushing against a fresh but healing scar. “And are you going to tell me where you were and what happened?” "No, but it's a damnable complication." Killian's tone is softer than the words themselves are. But when her other questions come, there's a lapse of quiet before he's willing to answer. "The dog may be happy anywhere, but the human.. has very specific places." There's a light squeeze at her lower back, to pull her closer. "It's my night, or at least it should be. Y'gonna send me back into the snow?" Is quietly arrogant, referring back to his 'day of the week'. When she touches his face, there's again a pause. "I'm doing what I'm always doing. It's nothing special, nothing different. I was out of state, and will be again soon. It's a big job, not that I need the money but-" He shakes his head briefly, slowly, warding off the twinge of intensity that came into those words, "Well, you saw for yourself why I have to do it." "Your night? What does that mean 'your night'? You think you can just show up, paw at the door, and be let in whenever you want?" Anette teases, grinning as Killian pulls her closer. "I'm almost surprised you haven't just made yourself at home in Daken's old room." His hesitance to speak of his job dampens her own mood and she sighs softly. "And why do you have to do it? Blood lust? Give the cats something to do? It's just when you dissappear like that I...well, you know." "Well, of course. Could you deny my puppydog eyes?" Killian leans to kiss her forehead when she states her next in reference to Daken instead of giving a direct reply. He'd pull his head back at her sigh to look at her. "I don't know how not to." He responds, sobered, "All of the above. The game, the animals, the escape. I've only been living this life for a little while." The hand that had been under her chin drifts to stroke the side of her neck and her hair there, his blue eyes watching her curiously, but untelling, "You don't keep yourself busy otherwise?" Is both a little playful, and searching. Anette smiles faintly as Killian leans forward to kiss her forehead. "When they're actually the puppy's eyes, they're irresistable," she replies with a soft chuckle. "It's the ears that sell it." As he goes on about why he does what he does, she nods along with the slightest grin. "I feel like I should give you some speech about how dangerous all that is and you're gonna get yourself killed but...we're terrorists." The grin dissappears as his hand moves to her neck but it seems to be replaced with a very...content expression. "Busy? Not as often anymore." She raises a brow and looks up to Killian. "I suppose you're just as charming when you're off on your jobs as you are here. I'm sure some poor girl has fallen for that devilishly handsome face of yours and kept you company while you were away." "I'll keep that in mind next time you tell me no." Killian's focus becomes distracted as he teases her hair with those fingers, playing at the nape of her neck. Eventually, the smirk comes with the delayed words, "There's so many, their names escape me." He looks back to her eyes with that, adjusting the cocky tone to offer, "It's a select few times I'm in this form beyond this island anymore. But lately, I've been a little more.. distracted. Maybe I'm slipping." He doesn't specify what he's slipping from, moving on instead, "Would it bother you if I was kept company in the cities I go to?” "With great power comes great responsibility," Anette warns, though her faux stern tone is no match for Killian's fingers playing with her hair and she quickly relaxes again. "Oh, I'm sure. Probably all gorgeous blondes, too. Supermodels or something." She glances over his supposedly hardly used form, tilting her head slightly as her lips form a faint smirk. "I seriously doubt that. No...bars or clubs? Collecting phone numbers from poor unsuspecting drunk girls?" His final question though gets an odd reaction: she tenses, unable to resist glancing away, even as she tries to continue to look casual, forcing a grin back on her face. "Why should it? What do I care what you do when you're on your jobs?” "That's only for spiders." Killian plays off her quote, responding in a mock-serious tone, his expression briefly falling to some sense of sternness. "And I don't like shifting into those little fuckers." Her relaxing, her playfulness, seems to have a similar effect on him. "There are plenty of bars and clubs, but not for the things you might like. Ain't no better way to get information than a room full of people drunk off their ass. And, sure, phone numbers could be part of that." He shrugs with a return of his grin, leaving that open to interpretation. Even her somewhat unexpected tensing doesn't change that, simply watching her as she forces her expression, "You are awfully curious to not care, love." "If you ever turned into a spider, there's a very good chance I would go ahead and squash you," Anette warns, a slight shiver going down her body. "Not sure I could concentrate in a bar well enough to be useful in that sort of thing. You've seen me around alcohol." As he questions her curiousity, she sighs, reaching up to run her talons through her hair and comb it back away from her face. "Christ, what do you want me to say?" she says, pulling away from him to make her way to the kitchen and pour herself a cup of coffee. "Maybe I'm just curious." Killian stays where he is as she pulls away, watching her quietly. However, after she starts pouring the coffee, he follows after her. Stopping close behind her, with the forethought to avoid contacting her wings, he touches her hips and kisses the base of her neck and up to the bottom of her ear. "Anette." He says so softly it's more a murmur. "You can tell me the truth. Nobody else is here to listen. I can be a dog if it's easier to talk to him." There's a faint smile, more felt than seen as he's still so close to her skin as he talks. "Or I can go. But I'd rather not." The latter is his more usual arrogant self, balancing the gentle persuasion. Anette ignores Killian's touch as he approaches from behind, though she doesn't pull away, other than to reach for a bottle of whiskey tucked away in a nearby cabinet. Pouring more than a splash in her coffee, she takes a tentative sip, seeming content with it as it's followed by a large gulp. The suggestion of talking to the dog gets a soft chuckle, and she hangs her head slightly. "I'm not telling the dog I'm in love with you," she finally says, finally turning around to face him, managing to actually make eye contact though she conveniently takes another gulp of coffee to avoid facial expressions or saying anything more. "He would like that though." Killian is waiting to look back at her when she turns to face him. He takes a breath at her admittance, a long exhale following. "This will complicate things with Mr. Sunday and Monday." His joke is only of faint humor, head tilted slightly as he touches her cheek, brushing with a thumb and then letting his hand fall away. His expression is clouded when he continues, "And it upsets you that you do?" "They'll get over it," Anette says with a faint shrug. She continues to resist reacting to Killian's touch, merely lifting her mug to take another gulp before she speaks again. "You were half right. It does complicate things. Do I really need to go into detail?" She sighs, leaning up against the counter as she watches Killian, yellow eyes flitting about though the rest of her remains cold and distant. "Your turn to be honest." It's his turn to step away, seemingly in response to both her continued lack of response and her request. Killian walks a couple of paces towards the main living area, looking out a window at the snow and sweeping winds beyond. He lets silence stretch until he eventually offers, "I've been a subject since I was fourteen, not a week after my powers manifested. I was nineteen before I got out of the fucking place, and even then as you know, I was an animal for over a year. I've been like this for less than a year. Strong emotions are not my strong suit, love. Using words for them, even less so." Anette can't help but chuckle a bit, lowering her eyes to the ground and shaking her head. "Like I said. Complicated. At least you have an excuse. Strong emotions just terrify me. Unpredictable. Liable. Distracting." She takes another large swallow of her coffee, the mix of caffeine and alcohol slowly relaxing her a bit, body and mind. "Look, you wanted to know and I told you, alright? I didn't want to ruin...whatever we had." "It doesn't ruin anything. Body language doesn't lie, sweetheart, only mouths do. It only changes things if admitting it implies.. changes." The last has a breath of a chuckle to curl it. Killian rounds the side of the couch and drops into it, throwing his arms over the back of it. "Liable." He mumbles, almost under his breath, "Seen plenty of that already, before this. I'd do whatever for you, you should know that already." "And what changes would it imply?" Anette asks, finally managing to crack an amused grin once more. A moment's thought and she slowly makes her way over to the couch, sitting on the other side, close to Killian but not quite cudding him. "That...is what terrifies me. That I would do the same for you. Like owing a debt that can't be repaid." She holds her coffee mug in both hands, slowly appreciating a long, steady sip. "Expectations." Killian says to the first, "If there's things you want me to do that I can't." When she sits, he finally looks up at her again, "Not how I see it. A debt is grudgingly paid. This shouldn't be so difficult as that. Guess I could-" His tone slips to a more humored one, a hand lifting briefly from its rest on the back of the couch to indicate the TV, "Watch more terrible sitcoms to get some ideas. The cat just wants to bring you a dead mouse or two." "I don't expect anything," Anette murmurs quietly as she adjusts herself, making herself comfy on the couch. "Though I was thinking more along the lines of terrible romantic comedies." The mention of a cat raises a brow and she glances towards Killian with an odd look somewhere around disgust and disbelief. "And then people wonder why I'm not a cat person. Then again, the dog might bring me a squirrel."