2007-08-22: Babydaddy


Church_icon.gif Felix_icon.gif Vasili_icon.gif Giselle_icon.gif

Summary: Church goes to see Felix about a little girl, and Vasili doesn't get too violent for once. Once Felix passes out, Giselle makes sure that her boys are behaving. Plans are discussed.

Date It Happened: August 22nd, 2007


Hospital Wing, Primatech Paper, Hartsdale, NY

Another day, another rude awakening in Primatech for Agent Ivanov. The first immediate sign that he's swum back to consciousness is the alteration in the beeping of the monitoring equipment, as his heartrate suddenly picks up - there's a reflexive, spasmodic jerk against the bonds that hold him to the hospital bed, before he forces himself to relax, and looks around blearily. <Shit.> he says, unhappily, in his native tongue.

And aaaaaaall the way on the other end of the room is Vasili, set up in his very own hospital bed. Unlike Felix, Vasili is not tied down to his resting place, and is currently flipping through a motorcycle magazine to pass the time between painkiller dosages. Cracked ribs and a gunshot wound do not a happy Russian make, and the charming utterance of his native language do much to attract his attention. The agent looks up from the latest Harley model to squint at the waking Felix, dropping the magazine to let it thump down over his crossed knee. "Shut up, you whiner."

"You need to stay over-" It's Lawrence, back from the beyond! He appears in the doorway, today in a brown suit and tie, as well as a smile. "-there, and keep reading." Under the man's arm is a folder. It is a pink folder, and it is full of papers. "Mornin' Felix!" Lawrence chirps rather loudly, strutting right up next to the man's bed. "How's our favorite Russian today?" That's -right-, Vasili. You have been downgraded to Not-Favorite.

<Fuck your mother, Ygorovich,> Felix says, tone conversational. And then he's peering up at Church, with no more pleasure in that meeting than he's showing Vasili. "I feel awful. This is not news," he says, not inclined to be charitable or civil. "Give me a phone call, let me out, or leave me alone."

The magazine is lifted, along with Vasili's hands, in an open and common gesture of 'what the hell' while he stares disbelievingly at Church. "What? I'm not doing anything! I'm over /here/, and he is over /there/, insulting my mother. You'd think that mister fancy agent man over there would have some class." A derisive snort follows, and then Vasili points accusingly at Church. "And you and I are going to have some words over your exploding fit later." Words that possibly are delivered by fists, if he has his way.

Church stands there to listen, tongue running over the inside of his mouth. Hmm. "Fit, huh? No, no, Vasili, that was barely me being surprised. You don't want to see me throw a fit." Those last few words are delivered with an unnatural level of rigidness in his tone. I will fuck you up, man. As for Felix, he looks back down at the beaten man. "I -might- be able to give you -one- phone call."

Now we're talking. Felix's brows arch enquringly, and his expression of loathing softens a fraction. "I'm a Muscovite, we have no class," he asides to Vasili, before looking expectantly back to Church. "Okay. Sounds good. What's the deal?"

The normal deal is /no phone calls/. Vasili, though contemplating a return to the wonderful world of motorcycles, now finds himself watching Church very carefully indeed, searching the other agent's face for some sign of - something. A sign of lying, with any luck, because any phone call from Felix to the outside world would probably end badly. Still… <Yes, I know. You're a classless bourgeois dog.>

"I can give you a call, but it will only be to one person." Church's hand dives into the pink folder to pull out a sheet with a paperclip on it. Attached under the paperclip is a picture of a black-haired, blue-eyed, six year old girl. He holds it up in front of Felix like some sort of Holy Grail. Not explaining just yet.

Felix cocks his head. "You're saying I can't call whom I want - you'd dictate who receives the call? No dice," he says, firmly, before glancing at the picture with only the most token of curiosity. The image has no meaning for him, so he looks back to Church expectantly, before snarking back at Vasili, <Like you're such a noble son of the proletariat,>

<A proud child of Siberian farmers.> Sort of. Vasili drops the magazine down onto the sidetable next to his bed. His legs are uncrossed and soon swing out over the edge, his bare feet hitting the floor just as he pulls his sheets off and bundles them onto the corner of the bed. Gingerly he rises to a stand and then starts shuffling over towards Felix and Church after a short false-start wherein he finds it necessary to put a hand to his aching ribs. "Don't worry," he mumbles at Church, "I'll behave." No more beating up Felix. Promise. Especially with witnesses.

Church exudes mock disappointment, still holding up the paper to glance at it. He gives Vasili his only warning look of the day. One toe out of line and he will /lay you out/. Back to Felix. "No? I'd think you'd really want to talk to your daughter. Just look at those big blue eyes. She's pretty cute, ain't she?"

The agent stiffens as Vasili approaches, merely snorting at his reply. Church's explanation has him glancing up at the taller man, back at the image, and then back at Church - before he bursts into laughter. It's rusty and uneven, what with the cracked ribs. "Oh, man," he says, between wheezes. "You are reaching, Church. Or badly misinformed. I have no children. Never been married. And in fact, 'm about as queer as a three dollar bill. Pull the other one, it has bells on."

Wait, wait. Felix's /what/? Vasili comes up at Church's elbow and peers over the other man's shoulder, entranced by the paper. A better look is apparently necessary, because one hand reaches out to grasp pleadingly at the edges of the paper. Gimmiegimmie? Wanna/see/. "Christ in heaven, Ivanov - do you mind if I call you Vanya? - Vanya, you should never have had children. This poor kid's going to be more fucked up than I am."

Church doesn't seem convinced. At all. That is because he knows the truth. Unless he was raped silly, that was a really bad lie. The paper is relinquished to Vasili's grabby fingers, if just because it seems like he's behaving. "Aleksandra Felixovna Dmitryeva. Born December twenty-seventh of two-thousand." Lawrence moves to perch himself on the edge of Felix's bed. "Still no bells? I can sit here all day."

"She's a cute kid, but I'll be damned if she's any daughter of mine," Felix says, with complete assurance. "Really, this is an odd ploy on your part. But roping in some poor kid - that's dirty pool. And don't call me Vanya, Vasili Ygorovich. Don't use 'thee' with me, either."

"Aww, c'mon, Vanya. There's no shame in being a wanton slut." Church has managed to distract Vasili from Felix, however, and after a good looking-over of the photo the agent lets out a grunt. "I doubt coercion will get you anywhere with our Vanya, Church. I'd try hammers if I were you. Maybe on the girl, if you can find her."

Church pauses a moment, as if something came up. "Oh. Maybe you just don't know about her, then. Mikhailova sounding a bell? Misha Dmitryeva? Or maybe you knew her as Mariska…you Russians have some crazyass names." Lawrence turns his attention to Vasili for a moment. "Oh, I'm not coercing him. I'm just-" Suddenly looks back at Felix, smile flashing like a light as he stands up again with a start. "-playin' Povich. 'Cause guess what bitch, you a babydaddy! And…we've had her for a few years, now. Maybe you can make her seventh birthday." The moment of what-the-fuck disappears as soon as it came.

"Slut, huh? I bet you've got a heart tattooed on you somewhere," Felix retorts, with a sneer. But the suggestion of harm to the little girl has his face going curiously empty, for all that there's a killing rage in his eyes. He glances between them both, as if memorizing their faces. "It wouldn't surprise me to find that you'd kidnapped a child," he says, voice very cool. "But that's no child of mine." The name does snag somewhere in memory, and he's momentarily abstracted, frowning.

Vasili ends up eyeballing Church as though his fellow agent has grown another head, brows furrowed into confusion and a little discouragement. Church is just so /weird/. "Uh huh. Right." Something might be ringing a few bells deep in Vasili's brain, but he's paying them no mind. They can be seen to later. "So. What exactly is it that Vanya here is refusing to tell you, Churchie?"

There we go. There's something. Those moments inside the man's eyes and on his mouth is the one little something that Church needed. Good, good. "She's a nice kid." Whether or not he knows this from experience is left up in the air. "But, that was my offer. Daughter or nothing. It's a pity you don't know she existed. DNA testing is a bitch, but it's something else." When Vasili speaks, Church turns his attention warily. "I'm this close to not being so nice about it, but I just want him to share what he can do. Not that hard for me, but it must be like tearing off a leg for him." One sentence away from 'I showed him mine but he didn't show me his'. "I'm one of the friendliest guys here, but he's grating on my last nerve." The older man puts both fists on his hips, frowning at Felix, almost pouting. Fft. "I think we'll end up having to wipe him or just do this the hard and painful way." Partly because of you-says the look Vasili gets now.

Felix's face freezes at that. "I'm not some sort of mutant, as you seem to imagine," Felix says, blithely retrenching, as he glares up at Church. The girl is momentarily forgotten, as he works busily on transmuting creeping fear into anger. Because really, anyone can be broken, depending on how unscrupulous you're willing to be. "We can chase around this again as long as you want, but you have the wrong guy." Now they're back to it, just as he suspected.

"Aww. I guess poor Vanya just doesn't want to admit that he's a special snowflake." Vasili tucks the picture back at Church, trying to make the other man take it. Whether or not he does, the Russian's going to be letting go of it - because he's advancing on Felix's bed, moving far enough forward and leaning down enough to grip the sides of the mattress, looming over the captive. <We know all about freaks, Vanya. So you tell the nice man over there everything he wants to know and you hide nothing from him, or I'm going to disregard my current orders and beat the answers out of you.> Through the short, one-sided conversation Vasili makes sure he doesn't touch Felix even once. No need to provoke the Church-man.

Church takes the picture and paper back, tucking it back into the folder and keeping his peripheral vision on Vasili. "I do not exaggerate when I say that the hard way is going to be extremely bad for you. I don't care what you /think/ you are trying to do, but I have a duty and I will do whatever it takes to accomplish it." He has gone from cheery-happy to an inexistent level of nonsense.

He can't help himself - ashamed as he'll be of it later, Felix recoils as much as his fetters will let him, trying to get away from Vasili. "I'm not a freak," he insists, more quietly. "I have nothing to say to you." This latter statement is a lie, because he adds, trying for that previous casual tone, <Fuck you, you little thug.> He's obviously afraid. And equally obviously intending to remain obdurate about the entire thing.

Vasili gives Church a sidelong glance, one that attempts to indicate that no /actual/ harm will come to Felix. The recoiling is a good sign, as far as he's concerned, and he leans in closer until he's almost nose-to-nose with the other man. "You're a freak, and we want to know exactly what kind of freak you are. As you've seen, Church here is an exploding freak. It'd be really entertaining if he exploded /you/ after I put you through the grinder." One of Vasili's hands comes up to wrap around Felix's chin, giving it a condescending wag. "Be a good boy and cooperate, or we're going to get mean."

Church steps closer to the bed to stand on the opposite side from Vasili. His brows are creased and his eyes narrowed down at Felix and the expression on his face one that is really looking as if he is planning the best way to suddenly pry it out of Felix by force. Make him use it, even. Two company men, looming over your shackled hospital bed. What a pickle.

The agent has backed up as far as he can go, and contents himself with glaring at Vasili. The monitoring equipment still attached to him betrays him, the beeping and flickering speeding up as his heart starts to race. "I have nothing to say," he repeats, scowling.

"Then you had better think of something to say or a song to sing us, Vanya." Vasili's hand moves up from Felix's chin, his fingers suddenly gripping in underneath the other Russian's cheekbones. His face, it is grabbed. "If you want to be able to walk by the time you leave here, that is."

Church lifts his arms across his chest, the folder held in his fingers below as he watches Felix. "I know as well as you that you don't want to be leaving here in a bodybag. It will make things smoother if you sing like a canary, mister Ivanov. I don't want to have to change Babenkov's new clearance levels back to what they were."

Vasili's gorilla grip has Felix making a small, pained noise - too many bruises and lacerations there. But he's still glaring defiance at both of the agents. "Fuck you," he says, voice muffled.
In this instance - given what has come before - Vasili is willing to defer to his fellow agent. He turns, looking over at Church with a frown on his face. What to do? There's no call to get into even deeper hot water with the high brass, especially when further violence could be supported.

The jaw on the older agent clenches, his eyes boring silent holes. "I want you to know, mister Ivanov, that I'm allowed to do what it takes to get a peep out of you. I have the feeling, however, that I'm not going to get anywhere with that, at least with you. I fear I'm going to have to see what I can do to have you wiped." He didn't -want- to do it, but every second seems worse and worse, so he's putting the threat up. "Or, we could always put you into a coma and do our job without your whining." Hmmmmm.

Wiped? That sounds ominous, if rather Ghost in the Shell-ish. Felix's brows arch quizzically at that, and he blinks past Vasili's grip on his face. "Wiped?"

But Vasili's face is soon right back in Felix's, his expression not unlike that of a very satisfied cat. <Wiped, Vanya. We have freaks here that can fuck with your mind. Make you.. forget things. Who you are, who your parents were, where you live. You might want to cooperate before we decide to nuke your identity.>

Church tilts his head a bit. "Remember what I mentioned about starting over? I wasn't joking, or being complex." And it sounds like Vasili is making things clear. Perhaps out of chance, he happens to repeat Vasili, but less threateningly and more matter-of-fact. "We have guys that will /fuck you up/."

Felix stiffens at that, frowning at them both. "I don't know anything about what you want," he persists. "You've already fucked me up. You may be freaks, but it's nothing to me."

"You stopped me from moving, Vanya. I don't get stopped unless a freak is involved." This is, however, getting overly tedious for Vasili. He glances back towards Church again, curling his lip. "I say we do things the old fashioned way." Read: Beat The Guy until he Spills Everything.

The folder in Lawrence's hand lifts to fan a little at his own face. He actually seems to consider Vasili's words, by the almost devilish glint in his eyes. "It's either just you telling us some little things about what you do…or you could end up losing everything. Everything you love, everything you hold dear, everything that you have spent years working for, everything that matters to you." Over his words, the air in the vicinity has begun to heat up. Getting warmer. And warmer still. Who turned off the A/C in August?

I betray myself, I betray my friends. It is a rather Faustian bargain. Felix's face goes quiet, though the monitoring equipment is still recording that panicked heartrate. "I have nothing to say," he says, for the umpteenth time.

Vasili is at the very last threads of his patience with Felix, and almost seems about to resume the job he started the other day - but he doesn't, and instead (relatively) lightly slaps the injured man on the cheek in a way that might almost be jocular. "Vanya, you /are/ a stupid bastard. Good luck remembering who you are by tomorrow."

Church finds controlled Vasili to be amusing, but right now he is dealing with Felix. Now, the temperature here has risen past the point of 'hot summer day', quickly passing 'locked car' and 'hot blacktop' and right up into El Azizia. He has said nothing, but now he just seems like he is seething silently.

"Why would I give you anything willingly?" says Felix, sweating noticeably, panting a bit. "If you're going to take what you want anyway. I've been abducted, imprisoned in some mutant concentration camp…..what's the point? Why go after those who have these supposed abilities?" He jerks his head, trying to get away from Vasili.

BREAKTIMEZ. At this lull in the day, Agent Muldoon does not have much of a reason to be here, but she doesn't have much of a reason to be anywhere else in the building, either - which is why she's /here/. It's as a complete guess to her as to how Felix has been doing, and in that respect, she has /first-hand observations to make/. After asking around, she'd eventually found the door to the right unit - and is promptly greeted, after stepping in, by a blast of hellish heat. "-What-" she gags out a little, raising a forearm to her forehead. The skewed angle of her vision reveals a trio of men piled ridiculously close to one another. Um.

There might be sweat rolling down the sides of Vasili's face and his clothes might be currently soaked by the same, but he's not really paying any attention to that. He's far more preoccupied with watching Church and Felix, at least - well. At least until Giselle comes in and raises her voice. Then Vasili is suddenly spinned around, his blue eyes riveted on the newly-arrived woman. Now instead of a pleased cat, he looks more like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. "Hey, Giselle. Have an air conditioner handy?"

"The entire reason we did not take what we wanted was to be as courteous and cooperative as possible with our temporary detainees. Something which you have thus far /not/ returned in kind." The heat seems to stop rising, and it is obvious it is coming from Lawrence. He is as cool-skinned as he was when he walked in the room for the first time. Unfortunately, it does not continue for long. When Giselle appears in the doorway, the man's power wavers and the heat coming from him lessens to almost normal, but the higher degrees will linger until it is able to dissipate. In other words, it's now like opening a car door to let it cool down; still hot as hell, but it'll mostly pass. Standing up and clearing his throat, Church makes sure to take a careful step back and away from the bed. Wasn't me.

Felix looks desperately to Giselle. Not that he expects much help from that quarter, really. "Yeah, prison rape is gratis, I suppose?" he asks Church, drily, arching that stitched brow at him. "I can't help you," he says, turning his face away from the others, as much as he can. "Let me go."

"What. The hell are you doing." The rolls of sweat are /so/ not helping, mang. Giselle might easily have believed otherwise, but the sudden expressions of guilt are too weird to ignore. She leans her free hand on the doorframe, drawing up the rest of her body close to it as she stares. "/Really/. What are you doing."

Who wouldn't feel guilty when faced with a potentially displeased girlfriend who also happens to be a Super Secret Agent of Pain and Ouchies? "He won't talk," Vasili offers helpfully. "We're trying to fix him. I think we should get the thumbscrews."

Church loosens the tie around his neck, the pink folder in his hand tucking back under his arm. "My job. Vasili just happened to be behaved enough to be helping me." His chin motions toward the feisty Russian agent, who seems equally surprised that Giselle suddenly appeared. Truth be told, they are alike in a few ways; this is just one of them. "No thumbscrews." /That/ is /not/ one of the other ones.

"They're threatening to take my memories. Not just the relevant ones, but all of them," Felix is oddly matter of fact about it, for all that the heartrate monitor is still beeping madly.

Giselle 's hands, both of them, suddenly come loose from the doorframe to pose in a palm-up position with her elbows still clenched by her sides. Her mouth opens silently, and she might be mouthing 'wtf'; those palms are pointed quite clearly at Felix's desperate expression. "So you're trying to get him to talk by - what - molesting him?"

"Church is doing that part. I'm just watching." Pfftt. "/No/, Giselle. We're not molesting him." Vasili grabs the front of his shirt, airing it out a little. Damn heat is annoying, and he's never done well in hot weather. "Vanya's just a bit more of a pathetic jerk than we thought."

Red fittingly takes over as the primary color of Lawrence's face, but he's still serious. Scoff. "No. We did that when we had the man sandwich. Have you never gotten into the nitty gritty before, Gigi? Tell me it isn't truuue." He croons this, smiling when he finishes. "Morally gray, love."

Felix has gone silent….and really, a rather odd shade of gray, too. Not looking so well.

"Are you sure? Theeeen what's with all the talk about free prison rape?" It's set up weird. /Really/. /Weird/. Giselle's eyebrow lifts as she slips further into the unit to situate herself at the foot of the bed, transferring her sardonic glance to Vasili as he speaks. Church is only looked oddly at with no answer to his question. Or pet naming.

Vasili edges away from Felix's bed, moving when Giselle does so that he meets her when she arrives, his good arm stretching out to gingerly settle across her shoulders to deliver a light squeeze. "He's projecting his gay fantasies. Church might be up for it, but I've got better things to mess with."

Church can do worse with the pet names. He's probably gotten punched in the arm already, to be honest. "Shut your piehole, Babenkov." The pink folder gets fanned at the air around Felix's head before the air around him. Someone open a window, already. He is also watching the other pair as he does so, suddenly aware again of his wariness. "/I/ wasn't the one punching the pants off of him." If they were five years old, tongues would be sticking out.

Giselle flicks her gaze up to Vasili when her shoulders are gripped, leaning to give a light cheek-peck - but she stops mid-movement when Church talks, twisting to glare a little. "Hey. Watch it." Though she only just arrived, the excessive heat is getting to her too, a little; she touches her fingertips to her forehead, then to a sleeve.

Aww, but cheek-pecking would be most welcome. Vasili holds Giselle a little tighter, pulling her in towards himself to form a sort of half-hug rather than a simple leaning embrace. "Maybe you should've been, Church. You don't really seem to do much at all."

Church succumbs to Giselle's warning rather easily, out of necessity. He can't be on her bad side, now. "You have no idea what I do, Vasili." His voice is stale and cryptic about this. Lawrence wanders over to pry open one of the windows along the top of the wall. Much better. "So what are we going to do about him, Giselle? I'm not sure where we should take this clamming up situation. Did you see this? He didn't seem very affected, so he must not know." The man steps over to hand her the pink folder of papers. Inside is most of the basic information on Sasha, Felix's daughter currently being held. It also has in it the results of the preliminary DNA tests they had ran on him when something came up already in the Company systems.

The folder is accepted as Giselle sticks out an arm to take it, still in her semi-wrapped position. She offers a 'hmm' as she flicks it open to ruffle through inside, pausing first on the status sheet about Sasha. No, she hasn't seen this yet. "What were you trying before I came in? That thing about simply threatening to remove all his memories might work, especially with this—" she waggles the foremost Sasha page - "to remind him."

Vasili slides around behind Giselle, wrapping his other arm around her free shoulder while pressing his head in against the side of hers, literally peeking over her shoulder at the files in her hand. It's still fascinating to him, too, that Felix could actually have a kid - much less one he doesn't even know about. "I say we bring the kid in. Show her off to her daddy. Then take her out and start her screaming or something. He'll break in ten seconds."

Church shrugs once. "He didn't seem to know her. I saw something averse in his eyes, but I think that was because he knew we're keeping children." He lifts a hand to rub at the side of his jaw. "When I came in, I was just trying to talk him into talking to /her/. Then he got a bit whiny and it kept up until you came in. I think he's out now." Church gives the still Felix a cursory glance. Then Vasili. The older agent is frowning a bit. "I want to avoid doing anything to Sasha, period, but perhaps bringing her in would do something helpful. It's not him or the kid I'm worried about, it's mom." He'll leave it at that. "But, if I had to make a professional move on my own, I think that I would wipe him to at least before he was captured. Then either let him go or keep him and try in here again. If we would let him go after wiping him early, I think that I might be able to get him to trust me that way instead. He seems scared of this place, even without us bothering him."

Grudgingly, it is occurring to Giselle that a long-term route might be the most effective of all. Assignments usually go better that way. "It'd take a /lot/ of trust to get someone to agree to be experimented on," she points out, giving Vasili a confirmatory look before slipping out of his grasp to rest the folder atop a bed bracket. Felix is good and out, ja? "I know -I- wouldn't be so stupid. Whyyy don't we try everything you can think of /first/, including hauling in Sasha and possibly making him believe we're hurting her, before a wipe is tried? I mean, it's not like he'll remember it anyway." Etch-a-Sketch!

But - but - /awwww/. And Vasili's cuddle-time is cut off at the knees. The Russian lets out a somewhat annoyed grumble and takes a step back, leaning against the bed behind him so that he can watch Felix and his fellow agents. "Keep him as he is. The more traumatized the easier to mess with."

"The more traumatized, the less likely he is to cooperate. Felix has had training that most of the population skips out on, so I am thinking he would rather go out in a body bag than speak up." Church crosses his arms casually. "Sasha has little to do with what we brought him in for. While she would be an asset, she would also be a liability." Again, not getting specific. "It takes a lot of trust to be experimented on, but it doesn't take much trust to confide in a friend with similar…afflictions as yourself." There's a plan forming. "And my favorite part of that plan is the fact it is not so messy. The less we need to do, the smoother it goes."

Time for PDAs later. "I have no objections with messy," Giselle objects, flipping towards the very end of the folder to find the DNA forms. "/Complicated/ is another thing, which is what I know you meant, but like I said before— we can do pretty much anything to Ivanov as long as we get rid of his memory later. /I/ think it's worth trying." Doesn't have to be complicated, either. Like Church, she's not being specific, but the connotations of this are pretty clear. Abuse first, Church's way after, if need be.

Perhaps it was the 'we can do pretty much anything to Ivanov' that ticked off a bulb in Lawrence's head. He pauses to peer at the air for a second, then he laughs a trickster's laugh. Hehehee. "What if we only /pretended/ to do it?"

It takes Giselle a slight bit to catch on, but the expression on her face suggests it's almost there. UNFORTUNATELY. Not quite. "Pretended to - wait, what? You mean stage Sasha screaming where Felix can't see her, or something?"

Church shakes his head and smiles at his partner. "No. No Sasha, period. We might even have to make a /phone call/." The man takes a few steps this way and that. "Miss Wilmer could do the dirty work she enjoys so much, and we could avoid any issues with bringing the girl in. We'd need to meet with her first, though…" Church falters off in thought, his light pacing over the floor pausing.

Candice. Orite. "Oh. I hadn't thought of that." Giselle is smrt, totally. "We should meet with her sometime soon, then." A very slightly sulky expression crosses her face. She does a different kind of dirty work, but she enjoys it no less.

"If we can get her in and give it a whirl, that'd tell us right away if we need to start him over or push harder." Either way, as long as Felix can be cracked, Lawrence won't care how it is done. When he's done being excited about that, his eyes do cross over that moment's sulk from Giselle. "Oh, you'll get a crack at him eventually. How about I make it up to you and we can go break in the new guns?" He tips his head and whispers now. "There's even a Zastava Black Arrow that hardly anyone's touched yet." Who doesn't like playing with guns? Fft.

True to expectation, Giselle's eyes slant a little bit, then light up with a pleased smirk like she's a child on the receiving end of Christmas. "Best thing you've said all day, Church." After a moment's silence, she lets her gaze slide across to Vasili. "/You've/ been awful quiet. What do you think?"

Vasili has been awfully quiet because he's concentrating on /not/ being awfully distracted by the tight pain in his chest, courtesy of Church's previous outburst. He glances up when spoken to, sullen as a kicked puppy, and pouts at Giselle. "I guess. Illusions aren't as good as the real thing, but if it's what we have to go on, then whatever."

Church would do it again if he could! But he'd never say it at such an inopportune time. He is currently congratulating himself mentally on saying something right today, when it comes to Giselle's good graces. The fastest way to get those back is through the promise of something destructive, violent, or otherwise badass. "Illusions are faster, and we're all busy people. Either way-Vasili, if you want to kick him in the balls a good one before he's wiped, I'm giving you a free ticket for later." It's…a reward. For behaving. Yeah.

Yeah? You know it. "C'mon, Vasili," Giselle comments gently, attempting to rest a hand on Vasili's upper arm. "Church came up with this brilliant idea the other day. We can beat the shit out of Felix /later/, then post it to Youtube. How's that sound?"


Well. /Well/ then. Vasili is just being rewarded on all sides now, isn't he. It actually brings a sort-of-smile to his mopey face, and he lifts a hand to clasp it over Giselle's for a good tugging. C'mere~. "As long as we blur out my face."

Church didn't say that in particular, but now he's not going to say no. "Of course." He sighs as he turns to gather the pink folder and prepare an exit. "I guess if we keep it all off the record and out of the security, it wouldn't hurt. Well. It'd hurt -him-." Poor Felix. "But you're not allowed to go too far. If we still do it later, then when I say stop, stop. One second over and I'll break an arm instead of a rib." This is in good humor for Church, who even chuckles as he speaks. "I used to be like you. You're going to ruin twenty years of my learning good behavior…" Heading for the door, muttering.

Giselle obliges and succumbs to Vasili's tug, leaving one last smirk for Church as she does so. "/That's/ a given, silly. And look. Even Church doesn't mind." Judgment passed: Felix really does deserve it. Case closed.

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