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graveyardsmash2014-09-20 12:15 pm
rysligmods) wrote in graveyardsmash2014-09-20 12:15 pm
TEST DRIVE MEME
| TEST DRIVE MEME | ||
Welcome to Ryslig's test drive meme! If you're considering apping here, this is where you can try your characters out in the game's setting. A few things to note:
Sample scenarios: SCENARIO ONE: You've just been released from the hospital in Vandare and no one really seems to know what to do with you. The locals offer polite advice but don't seem to want to spend a lot of time with you. You and the other new arrivals stick out like sore thumbs, so perhaps one will spot you wandering about town. |
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[Martel took orders, sure. She wouldn't say no to him - none of them would. They were his possessions, but even now he knows that's not entirely it. Something more, something deeper. He hadn't realized that until it was too late. None of that matters now, though.]
[Greed's suddenly too still. As if he's gone straight back to stone, but the twitch of movement behind his sunglasses, the position of his talons - ]
[ - they say otherwise.] That's true. I had been interested. After all, immortality's the top of the list. [Or it was. It may still be. Greed jerks his hand away and one of the metal pieces on the epaulet comes with him. As easy as a knife to butter.]
[And while he's still got a grin, there's a grimness to his tone. Threatening now, rumbling from his own deep pit despite the carefree nature. Only a select few would know Martel and considering Kimbley's position, he's instantly placed in the second category. The boot-stomps that brought his whole kingdom crashing down with his first demise quick to follow.] Old lady - ? Sorry - that's not how it went.
[Greed pulls away, mimicking a serpent in his retreat. His body dips, his torso hitches inward. He's face on with Kimbley now and the frown that's there stays. The former homunculus lowers his hand to his side and the metal piece in his claws clinks as it rolls from one finger to the next. Back and forth.] Is that what they told you? [It's the only inkling he can think of - a soldier taking the name of an infamous Alchemist to somehow strike a chord. A nameless face in a sea of them, storming the 'Nest and raining bullets to wring it dry. Greed's teeth settle and his lips split.]
[But the grin he's wearing? It's forced.] Now, that really isn't very nice. You should know a bit better. [Finally, his sunglasses slip and there they are. Ghostly eyes, akin to a chilled viper staring back. The crystals on the side have started to form, but the process is slow even now.]
A little rude, but I can't say I blame you. I'm gunna guess that's what Bradley told you, right? [Which should have been cleared up by now. Bradley had turned from hailed Fuhrer to villain for any of those who made it to the Promised Day. Greed felt the piece of metal splinter in his fingers and he let the bits dribble from his hand.] Eh-
[He shrugs back. It's no use killing him; it's Bradley he's really after. Top of the list of his would-be kin and oh, did Wrath get the easy way out. Pleasant smiles and a death he didn't deserve. The Sin's snarling before he realizes it, but a quick fling of his hands makes it disappear.] - doesn't matter. But you're still not being honest with me. That's a little rude.
[It's no use, it seems. Eventually, a lie can be told so long that many think it to be the truth. The Sin slips his fingers into the back of his leathers and his knuckles bounce and scratch against the stone fingering up his spine. He rolls his foot away, making to take off towards town.] He didn't survive, y'know.
[With that said, Greed raises an arm. Signalling off with a cock-snap of the wrist, he turns back to his prior destination.]
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He saw the way Greed looked at her, had made the connections quickly in his mind.
Greed kept a skull in a safe. the skull had turned to dust in the bag because it had been Greed's skull and he had been dead. And Greed deliberately sought out the old woman who lived isolated in a house, an old woman who just so happened to be an alchemist.
He wants to argue, wants to press the point, but he doesn't care to.]
Who's 'they?'
[The comment about Bradley is confusing. That's not a name Greed ever used. Didn't he always call him "Pride"? But that's not important, because he feels like he's missing something key here, something he needs to know the answer to. Somehow, they're discussing two different events.
Kimbley lies all the time, though never directly and not without purpose. Besides that, he had no reason to lie to Greed in this place.
Maybe, though, maybe there's a way to confirm what happened.]
I don't care what happens to Bradley.
[That's honest enough.]
Say I am lying. What would you say happened? Enlighten me to correct the misinformation I've heard.
[Maybe he'll get Greed to turn around again. Though more likely he's about to pick a fight he's going to regret.]
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[But Kimbley's good at setting a hook and oh, he just can't help but bite. The Sin gestures with his hand again. Wild yet cool in his expression. His index goes skyward and draws a circle. One, two, three times - until it stops still.] Equivalent exchange - you remember that one, right?
[All Alchemists did. Nothing's free in this world or the next. It's a statement that the Sin can live by. Everything has a price, everything has value.]
[That hasn't changed. Not here, not before.] You tell me what I want to know and in exchange - [He turns then to face the other and the pieces of metal from before crunch under foot. He applies the pressure, pushing the tip of his boot down to flatten what dregs of grass are left.] - I'll tell you what I know.
First thing's first though. [Greed places his hand to his face, showing off that signature tattoo of his. With the black of his skin, it almost hums there like a beacon. A sign of his making, at least his original one.:]
[The serpent. Constantly consuming its own tail to swallow itself whole.]
[He finds the silver piece at his nose and gingerly grasps it. As if the item is almost a treasure and he peels them off slowly. One roll of the thumb flips an earpiece closed and he shoves the other into the cuff of his vest. With his pair gone, those eyes really open and the slits thin out, then expand. In the end, he's a predator even with his status stripped from him.]
[He flicks a glance back to Kimbley.] Sounds fair, no?
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Equivalent Exchange, huh? [But he's smiling (almost smiling) a dangerous smile. These are rules he's familiar with, rules he doesn't mind continuing to follow, not really. He's always been a believer in the principle.]
Then what do you want to know?
[If the same story he's been telling isn't working, he'll think of something else. He's not going to lie, not to Greed, not now. Not when he's pretty sure that Greed could do serious damage to him. The silver is enough to make him wary. He's not entirely certain he wants it touching his bare skin.
But he stares back at Greed like he's used to being watched, and for a moment he once again feels like Zolf Kimbley, the mad bomber, the military's dirty little secret.]
I'll tell you whatever you want.
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[After, well - that's an entirely different story.] You said you knew Martel - [A flash seems to go between his eyes and a brief narrowing follows. He hadn't seen how it ended, but he knows all-too-well of her fate. The Sin touches the roof of his mouth briefly.] And who else? Me and mine don't let that kind of information slip.
[Especially not to a State Alchemist, but he leaves that out. He didn't really care one way or the other, but they did. Any trust in their government vanished as soon as they brought their broken bodies down into the lab. A promise that had turned false and through their misery, they made it out.]
[Greed'd be lying if he said that wasn't something to admire.] You know what they were then, didn't you. But for someone out of Laboratory Five, you don't really look like a Chimera. [Nor did he smell much like one. Which again, points to option B. A promise is a promise though, and Greed's always stuck to his deals. Even if they were and are always pointed in his favor.]
So - they didn't use you for that. So, what? You escaped with the rest of them and I was the one who broke you out? [Not to his recollection. Rumor and first-hand intel was that Kimbley had been released under government order. And he had been wrestled into the rest of the seven-deadlies: to further the plan, to keep the ball rolling and rolling.]
[This one? Doesn't seem like the same guy.]
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He holds up one hand, ticking off the names on his fingers.]
There was Bido, Dorochet, and... Roa, I think his name was. There were a few others but we never spoke. Didn't catch their names.
[Making up names would go against the deal he made at any rate. He'd rather not risk having things get heated between them. Not when the fact that Kimbley is still in military uniform. There's an implication there that he's uncomfortably aware of.]
I'm not a chimera.
[It's a bit too defensive and he looks too on guard, but it has nothing to do with them, not really.]
Like I told you, I was supposed to be used to create the Philosopher's Stone. Some thing that looked like the man running the place had us all brought out into this holding cell made of red water. I didn't have any plans of trying to escape until some bastard accused me of lying.
I blew him up and escaped while the rest were distracted. Couldn't tell you what was going on in the floor below and honestly I don't care. I assume the rest of the prisoners were rounded up and killed, but I escaped.
That's when you showed up and offered me a job working for you.
[It's entirely truthful, but it's also the same story hes been telling, just with more details now.]
What you were doing there, I couldn't tell you. I never asked.
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[And by then, it had been too little too late without even a piece of evidence to send them nipping at his heels.] That's not what I remember. [And he doesn't like that fact. With the purification in recent memory, the differences in stories strikes a chord that he doesn't like. Greed's lip momentarily threatens a snarl, but it doesn't quite get there.] Sounds like a pretty good story, but that isn't how it goes. I never had an alchemist. Least, not at first.
[Intel for intel - he knows the drill.] We were in Dublith for a while. A rumor from Central caught my attention - [A murderer and a suit of armor. It drifted in from whisper to whisper until it finally, as always, came back to him. Everything came back to him eventually. The underworld had been his turf, his kingdom.]
[And those in it had known that fact all too well.] Working for me, huh. I don't hire just anyone. [The Sin's nails pitter-pattered across the edge of his thighs. The more Kimbley explains, the more he's conflicted. Interested, but cautious. He hasn't seen anyone else around and it'd be stupid of them to try anything now.]
[Besides, they've always been a little more upfront.] So - you survived Dublith, then?[It's where one should tread a bit lightly. History's a bad maker and if anything, Greed's not too keen on traveling down that road.]
[But it seems there really isn't much of a choice there.]
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It's almost right, but it's like someone put pieces from another jigsaw into the set.]
It's not like I had anywhere else to go.
[It's not a very helpful prompt. Truthfully, he doesn't know why Greed hired him short of, well, greed. Kimbley could kill people with his bare hands. He probably assumed the alchemist would be useful to have around.]
I survived.
[It's said like he's agreeing. He's not stupid enough to say that he was the cause. That he'd found a better deal. Hanging around in some dingy bar hadn't been an ideal situation for him, but he'd stuck around because working for Greed hadn't been terrible.
Being given an offer to rejoin the military had been the more appealing off, that was all. Nothing personal. Archer outright slaughtering most of the bar hadn't been part of the deal, but there was also nothing Kimbley could have done about it.
Greed dying had been an unfortunate side effect he hadn't seen coming. Kimbley still isn't certain what happened. It wasn't something he ever discussed with the man who lured him away at any rate. Whatever happened, Kimbley was nearly positive Greed wouldn't be able to answer his question anyway.]
Not many did.
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[Greed plucks his sunglasses away from his vest and casually slips a claw under an earpiece, sending it wide open with a stroke.] Tsk - you really don't know, do you? [The expression that follows is only the slowest crawl of a smile. Sinister and pushed, as if he's got more to the story. Greed sinks into his shoulders and his sunglasses go to the bridge of his nose.]
You've still got it all wrong, friend. [Whether it's the old beast biting or the new one to replace it, a growl trails Greed's voice. He can't help it, really. It's almost like going on the rewind - the pieces coming together, his memory intact. Yet, it feels just like then. When the images came in crude static. Bouncing and knocking against his skull, bringing with it an anger he couldn't place.]
[Wrath. A sin he doesn't particularly like for a multitude of reasons.]
[The tips of his fingers press into the rounds of his shades, threatening to crack the very glass there if he isn't careful. Thankfully, he is and a ginger push rights the pair over his eyes again. The town spins in them and the reflected image is swallowed. Taking the illusion of far-off hell fire.]
[He doesn't like where this conversation is going.] That's another time you've lied to me - c'mon. Who do you really think you're talking to? [With his back to Kimbley, Greed straightens and tilts his head over his shoulder. The fur masks his jaw line, but that half-bit grin would be hard to miss. Sarcastic, egotistical.]
[But oh, is it dangerous. Not that he's had inclination to go to that point. Not yet.] I thought I gave you a pretty fair deal. If you're not interested - [As he turns away, he poses a dramatic shrug. Enough to make his vest rise, then fall. Both hands shoot out, flipped upside-down and tossed to the wind.]
- it's a shame, really. If anything, I like to think I'm pretty fair. Eh- [He takes another step forward. His nature is taking hold, deciding his path for him. There's the town in sight and things to have.]
[Still - ] I am sorry, y'know. Whatever they told you - whatever you think: you and I never met.
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[He doesn't like the word, doesn't like Greed calling him 'friend' when the tone indicates anything but. He also doesn't know why it matters so much. He's Zolf Kimbley. Infamous for doing whatever the hell he wants to without even the slightest regard for another person.
It's not the idea that Greed doesn't remember him that bothers him, exactly, because if he had, he would have attacked the alchemist by now.
No, this bothers him because it's a mystery. Because there's something going on, something that is so wrong it's nearly tangible.]
I've been nothing but honest with you.
[He should be grateful, because Kimbley doesn't usually feel so generous. Maybe he can present a fact, he doesn't know. It's probably pointless. There's too many slight differences between their stories, even if Kimbley hasn't been told much of anything.
But maybe he could bring up something, something that whoever Greed keeps bringing up wouldn't know about.]
You used to keep the bar well stocked. Pretty damn good collection of spirits. But you never cared to share the stock you really enjoyed. So you kept it in one of the back rooms under lock and key.
[Maybe that's one detail that will remain the same.]
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[Greed pricks his index from his thigh, then settles it again.] Oh-?
[There's no point to it now. Even after a while, the act would have been dropped. Be it one of his kin or a soldier from that time. Which leaves more questions than answers and if anything, he's always been keen on knowing the truth.] Ha -! That's a new one. All right. [The Sin rolls out his hand, sending all his fingers splaying one by one.] You've got my intention - Kimbley.
[It's the first time he's used the other's name in conversation and it sounds odd on his tongue. But that doesn't matter - he knows things. Certain details only a select few would have been privy to.] Looks to me like you and I have things to talk about. [Greed jerks his head forward, as if signaling to the town itself. He's been out here too long, away from the sights and sounds. And while the information is enough to make him stay, there are other wants in question.]
[Mainly his own.] C'mon then - doesn't seem right to do this all out here, hmn? [The Sin beckons with his shoulder, with a slight slant to the side. It's almost as if he's boneless in the way he moves. Slouching and swaying.]
Besides - it's still not like you can really hurt me, right?
[And with that, he takes the lead. The town isn't far off and the stroll there will kill some time.]
[That and he can get to know a little more about what's really going on.]
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It's ill fitting, even for him, and the end result is how small Kimbley looks. He's thin and boney from years in prison. He's still quick on his feet, enough that he could dodge a few blows from Greed if it came to that, but not much else. Even newfound abilities thanks to this place don't help him much.]
You want to take it somewhere private?
[He almost sounds confident in how he speaks now. Like he's not the least bit concerned with what Greed could do to him.]
I'm not going to try anything with someone who can't die.
[Not the wisest thing to say, but it's an admission that he's not going to start anything if nothing else. He follows behind Greed with a very deliberate walk, content to fall silent for the moment.]
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[Sort of.]
[The split of his grin is as audible as it is obvious. Wetly smacking when his lips pull tight. Kimbley's wrong again, especially now that they've stripped that aspect away. Still, the stone on his hands is a similar carbon. Almost if they chose it on purpose.] I'm not immortal - not really. You should know that. Built pretty tough, I'll admit.
[But that doesn't mean he can't die. Of course, usually, they can come back. Rising onto feet like ghouls from the grave. But there's a point where not even that's enough. He knows that better than the rest - two permanent dirt-naps under his belt and Greed's not about to chance a third.]
[It's just not on the list.]
[Grass gives way to cobblestone under feet and the Sin's heels clack as he goes. Sure, this might not be the wisest thing. People in town were suspicious, almost dreadfully sad in their making. As if they knew exactly what was coming and their sympathies were etched onto their faces. He doesn't care, though. Not now. Not when he's got an answer at his back and desire to the front.]
[In terms of a cross-road, it isn't entirely terrible.] Looks to me like you haven't gotten a gift from our friends yet. [Idle conversation at best. As he moves into something that resembles more of a street, Greed's reminded of a different time. When the proverbial shackles were still on, when he still took orders with the lot of 'em. This town's old. Older still than Dublith had been when he left.]
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Killing Greed repeatedly would only enrage him, after all. And Kimbley doesn't have his alchemy. Even if he did have it, it would probably mean that Greed would recover and be strong enough to split Kimbley in half and he's not exactly interested in dying. Not at the hands of his old boss at any rate.]
I don't know what you're talking about.
[It sounds genuine enough. Kimbley isn't that great of a liar. The tells are obvious, when someone knows what to look for. The slight hitch to his voice, the unbreakable stare.]
...and I find it hard to believe we share many mutual friends.
[His hands finally slide into his pockets as he walks. It's almost like old times. It just so happened that "old times" involved kidnapping children multiple times, but Kimbley hardly cared. Orders were orders. He'd done far worse.
At least the walk is pleasant enough, even if he's growing more and more certain that he's failing these little tests.]
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[The Sin finds his destination easily enough and with that smooth demeanor of his, he acts as if he owns the joint. A hand goes to the door and eases it open slowly. The wood shivers his arrival, the hinges groan. He doesn't say it, but the feeling of false light on his skin is a nice change. A warming yellow touches him, forms across his body and face like a cleansing wash. Though it's sickly in color and under its scrutiny, more of the changes can be observed. Near his temples, protrusions of black rock are starting to crack on the surface. Another set starts their coil further up his hairline.]
[Even to the untrained eye, they look like the first beginnings of horns. Four in total just waiting to break free.]
[Greed shoots his heel out with a kick, shoving it to the bottom of the door to hold it ajar. It's the least he can do with present company. This alchemist may be playing him a fool, but it wouldn't be the first time. And given the circumstances, the former homunculus knows he's got the upper hand. Even without his gifts, even with the black holes in Kimbley's story - ]
[- if it all went sour, he could at least defend himself. If not leave a scratch or two as a reminder: no one steals from him. Not now, not ever. And leaving out the truth? That's just the same.]
[When they're inside, Greed lets the door bang behind him and his hands find pockets as well. He clicks his tongue, exposing his throat as his head rolls back again. He's examining the goods, deciding what's worth it and what's just shit for the next poor sucker coming in.] Two - [He starts in airy. His inked-red hand flutters from his pocket and he raises two claws in signal.] - scotch, light on the rocks.
[With his order concluded and god-willing he gets it, Greed traces the line of the bar. He gets a glance here and there, but everyone already knows: some show signs of their changing, others are just better at hiding them. The Sin's neither - showing it off as if he doesn't have a care in the world.]
[And really, in the end? He just doesn't.]
[A booth to the back is his target in question. As he strolls, his boots thud, his leather bands jingle. He's like a snake in that way - rattling to give a warning:]
[He's here on business.]
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Maybe it's because Greed is someone else from the same world, someone who knows the same things about the world as Kimbley. Or at least, they way the world used to be. Turning into someone that looks like a dog, a chimera isn't something that Kimbley wants to think on too long. He already has the teeth, the claws.
The ears are the dead give away-- fur the same color as his hair that twitch in the direction of sounds he wouldn't have picked up on before.
Greed might not care to hide his changing appearance, but Kimbley wishes more than anything that he could hide his.
Still, at least the inn isn't deserted. He trusts Greed to an extent, even now, but the only thing he trusts for certain is that Greed isn't entirely predictable.
Still, he decides the best course of action is to order similarly to Greed:]
Gin and tonic.
[Kimbley, in turn, walks quietly. Like he's used to having severe discussions about his behavior in corners away from prying eyes. He's on guard and alert, but not tense.]
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[It's merely interest there, a desire. Need in the most raw of instances. He just really can't help his nature.]
[When the drinks come, it's by the hand of a woman. Dressed with enough layers to keep them guessing, but her white, thinned-out nails poke through the cuff of her sleeves. The Sin's glance is briefly taken when she arrives. His mouth purses and both of his legs slowly stretch out beneath the table. The cuts of his heels bounce where the floor's uneven and that feral grin of his shifts to something more pleasant.] Thanks lovely. [She's lifting the glasses up and he meets her halfway. A chance touch at her knuckle, harmless and in passing. Whether or not it's intentional is the real question.]
[But she doesn't say a word. Her eyes widen just a tad to stare at him and she shakes her head, sending evenly cut white-blond hair to and fro. She hands of the drinks and leaves without comment.]
[And Greed watches her go.] Now that's interesting - [His glance slides back to Kimbley without a twitch of movement. A still gesture and another part of his making.]
[It wasn't always that he worked like this. No, there had been a time where he had been made for just the opposite. To kill and slaughter; to lure them in with a crooked finger and dice them whole. But those days were long gone: longer still with the time he's been here.]
[As his hand wraps around the lip of his drink, Greed raises a pointer to present company. He's mapping out the changes and any inclination that Kimbley's bothered goes to the wind.] - those must be new. [The Sin's voice rolls off his tongue and his ankles lace secretively beneath. The look harks back to someone he used to know, though he never did have the physical traits.]
[It's almost endearing; almost enough for him to drop his suspicion. But not quite there.] There wasn't any old woman. [He draws back to the conversation from before while his claws undulate against the lip of his glass. As they circle, the cup groans a protest. The glass etches.] That part of the story never happened. Good ol'Pops never did find that necessary.
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Still, Kimbley doesn't care enough to address the woman directly, flashing her a predatory smile as she leaves.]
And if they are?
[His frown is the only indication that Greed has stuck a chord. He's not good enough at keeping his face neutral, is too sensitive about the idea that he's lost his humanity, but he doesn't retort something aggressive at Greed, instead watching him evenly as soon as he's gotten his composure.
He leans back, drink in hand, taking one long drink, feeling that familiar burn-- it's been too long since he's had proper tolerance. This is probably a mistake. Kimbley can't afford to get tipsy around Greed, can't allow himself to show any weakness at all, but it doesn't stop him.]
There was an old woman. The Elrics were at her house. You sent the others in to grab Alphonse Elric and you and I took care of distracting Edward Elric.
[He's not sure what to do about the "Pops" comment. Greed had never referred to the other homunculi as siblings directly. He had certainly never mentioned a father.]
You and her seemed to go way back.
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[He swallows more, almost hungrily. As if he's parched; as if he's been dying for the drink for centuries. The ice snaps to shards in his teeth and Greed's eyes sag half-hooded beneath his sunglasses. It's not the best, but it's good nonetheless. A sound boils in his throat when it bobs and for a second, his knuckles turn white. His nails bite in.]
[It's never nice to tempt the tempter. But he's also never been one to deny himself what he wants.]
[The glass is half-empty by the time he comes up for air.] No - [Greed sets his portion down with a resounding thud.] - wrong again. The others got him when he was in Dublith. [Sweat streaks lines at his nails, dripping into the shelled-out curves.] Just who the fuck have you been talking to?
[His face, though - it doesn't change. Still playing the Cheshire for his best grin, Greed rolls his body back into the booth. His fingers drum on the edge.] For someone who thinks they know me, you sure have a lot of things wrong. Though, you still know more than most. You might just be remembering something else entirely, Kimbley. After all -
[Again, his index goes skyward. His lips smack, his foot bounces. Picking up a rhythm from somewhere.] - there's no such thing as no such thing.
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I think her name is Dante?
[He shrugs. Greed had mentioned it in passing and Kimbley had chosen not to question it.]
She was human as far as I could tell.
[But at that, he pauses, staring carefully at Greed, not quite giving a disbelieving look because Greed doesn't lie, but this is adding to the list of a growing number of things that just don't add up.]
That old lady lived just outside of Dublith. Secluded and alone. Alchemists are so paranoid, you know.
[He practically drawls it, watching with eyes that are far too menacing for a man up against someone far stronger than him.]
With all this talk of other worlds, of people coming from places I've never heard of, who can say? It might explain the holes in your memory.
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[But everything Kimbley has to say means nothing. No flicker of response, no recollection. Greed taps his knuckles to the side of his drink and pats his vest down a few times.] There wasn't anyone like that living outside Dublith. And the alchemists I know aren't really the types to hold back.
[He finds what he's looking for in due time. Only a few are left, but the Sin removes a bent-back cigarette butt. He presses the tip to undo the kinks and casually slips a talon into the mouth of an open-candle flame. The motion makes the wick spit and sputter; as hot wax pools to the side and swipes the edge in an ivory hue.] There's always a possibility. Can't really deny that, hmn?
[The smoke finds the edge of his jaws and Greed bows into the flame. The fire makes red lines where the pitch-black fingers end and his skin begins. Giving the look of his usual electrical current, but it's not there. Just an illusion and when he releases the candle, it trembles away. Taking the fire-lit light with it.] But another Dublith - [Kimbley had already mentioned that not many survived. But some did; he did. Which meant - ]
[The tip of the cigarette suddenly springs to life, ushering a cherry as bright as newly-stoked coals. Smoke pours from his mouth, gliding over the cuts of his teeth ever-so-slowly.] - you survived. What about the rest of them?
[Because if this world could bring him back, then the possibilities were endless. Greed clenches his mouth with sneer and his upper lip pulls up a tad.]
[It's the final question he's got. If Kimbley answered incorrect then the deal was all off.]
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[Kimbley isn't an easy man to offend, and this isn't one of those times he'll get offended. It's an agreement, because they're talking through these slight differences. It's still recognizably the same place, but the differences are there and are noticeable.
There are probably more, just waiting to be found and Kimbley would be lying if he said he didn't want to exploit them.]
Oh, I'm sure she had her reasons for being secretive.
[If she was who he thought she was, Greed showing up on her doorstop uninvited was only going to go one of two ways, and considering the fact that Greed had died shortly after Kimley had left the Nest, well, he was pretty sure he knew how Greed had met his end.]
Martel survived. I don't know about the others.
[It hadn't exactly been his intention to get all of them killed. That was Archer's doing, not his. He hadn't exactly seen their fates, anyway.
For the sake of the situation not getting ugly, he'll refrain from mentioning he only knows she survived because she threatened him with a knife and called him a traitor when she suddenly appeared on the military base.]
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[He doesn't notice the snarl this time. The monster he is, the monster he's become: it wants vengeance and he wants revenge. That payment never did come at the end of it all; Wrath dying the way he did, with a pleasantness that left a bitterness on his tongue. But before it goes on too long, Greed wipes away the expression with a sly shrug.]
[Then it's back to usual pleasantries.] I'm sure. [The Sin peels his tight grip from the booth and slowly cleans his nails of the leftover shards. That's a secret he'll keep to himself; a sour point. This alchemist, be it Kimbley or not, doesn't need to know the details.] Glad to hear she's all right. Never was one to give up so easily.
[Obviously, Greed liked her. Still does. If she's out there somewhere, it's a light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe. The stories were still too conflicting to be certain.]
[Instead, he goes to finish his scotch and on round two, he doesn't break for pause. It all goes down, dribbling from his lip to leave streaking lines across his chin. Greed thumbs the leftovers and they catch perfectly in the dip of his claw. He sucks it dry, then tosses the glass onto the table. It slides with the growing sweat and bumps Kimbley's chaste gin and tonic with a subtle click.]
You said you worked for me - what changed? [It's the question he's been meaning to ask and the answers are numerous: dying, something else coming into play. The homunculus chortles at the back of his throat and lifts his head up to catch a glance from the under-swoop of his shades.] You never did explain that.
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Who could say how much longer, though, if she was going to be attack more military. Well, he'd be lying if he said he cared so he isn't going to be making a habit of talking about her.]
What changed? I got a better offer, that's all. Nothing personal.
[It's stupid of him to admit, it's something he would have avoided in the past, but ten years to completely lose his tolerance? The stuff's already working on him, making him slouch back lazily and he's only drunk half a glass.]
Not from anyone you know, either.
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[It doesn't settle well, though. His were loyal even up until the end. Greed had watched them all go down one by one. For someone to turn their back on him - ]
[The Sin tosses his hand up, flipping it open as his wrist slowly churns in the other direction. The bouncing of his heel slows and he merely presses it to the post holding the table together.] Nothing personal, huh? Somehow, I doubt that. [But he doesn't know. Heads, tails - the whole situation is merely drawing blanks.]
[If there's any indication of his suspicion, he doesn't express it. That smile of his still holds fast. Pressed together in a line that makes arrows at the corners. Greed trails his hand around the second glass of scotch and idly side-glances the rest of the bar.] Considering your story, I wouldn't doubt it. You and I just remember things differently, friend. [Kimbley's name is dropped and maybe, just maybe, there's a metaphor there. Something to read between the lines:]
["You drop me and I'll do you the favor."] So - what is it you really want? [His teeth shine out, his eyes hood, and suddenly Greed's too close. He slithers from his perch, pushing himself into Kimbley's space without a care in the world. His torso hovers off the table, the candle ignites in his sunglasses. Touching cool-silver frames with a sinister orange. It's molten, hot.] Obviously, you weren't too worried about leaving before.
So why are you so interested now?
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