(no subject)

[dalicious]

When he wakes up everything is darkness and cold and the rough feeling of fabric against his cheeks, binding his eyes and blocking his vision, and it isn't long before he realizes that that isn't the only restraint in place; there's a chair there that he can't get out of, bound at the wrists and the ankles and the chest, and whatever else is going on down here (down here? he has no idea where he is but these sorts of things always take place in some sort of basement, don't they?) moving isn't really something that's going to happen right now.

He twitches sharply; the result is something he really should have seen coming - the soft creak of a chair across from him, the rustling of fabric letting him know that he's not nearly as alone as he'd thought he was.

"So you're awake."

The voice is soft and high, the sort of thing that implies the guy's got a lovely as fuck falsetto when he sings but mostly he just comes off as kind of gay; the level of nonchalant is through the roof, really, as though he's making some sort of statement about the weather.

Nice day we're having.

Kind of rainy, but not too bad.

Nice to see you're no longer unconscious.

He doesn't respond, in the event that he's dealing with a sicko; the only way to possibly come out of their games alive is not to play. It's the way he's learned to deal with this shit in the past; he'll deal with it that way now. It's not like it's no problem, because this isn't exactly a no-problem situation, but the less he gives the guy to work with, the better.

It's when the silence gets a soft laugh that he begins to worry, really worry, and his mind scrambles for anything he can use to put together some sort of picture of his surroundings. Another light rustling of fabric; the muted thud of his captor's elbow coming down lightly on a solid surface. Another shifting of wood to indicate leaning forward. Probably leaning over a table between them. Head propped up on his hand somehow.

In terms of visualizing, it's good; in terms of usefulness, it tells him jack shit.

"It's all right, you know; I'm not here to beat information out of you."

He has to bite back the urge to snarl, to snap out the esteemed opinion that he probably couldn't beat the shit out of his fellow choirboys and should come back when his balls drop; instead, he just shakes his head. Tenses. Irritable. "What the fuck are we here for, then?"

"We'll get to that in a moment. Have patience."

"You're making that kinda hard." He bends his wrists back a bit; forms fists over the arms of the chair. "You got a name or something?"

The pause that ensues is too long to be comfortable. "You can call me Seth."

"The guy that's been terrorizing the region."

The smile behind his words is audible when Seth speaks again. "The very same."

"Good to see you haven't stopped hiding." He pauses for a moment. Tilts his head a bit. "Well. Not see."

Seth laughs at that; as little as he trusts it, he lets that give him a small shot of hope. Maybe if Seth likes him enough -

"Let me guess. Maybe if I think you're witty, or clever, or otherwise not worth mutilating, I'll let you go."

He can hear Seth standing up, taking slow, measured steps on his side of the table; that realization is quickly shoved to the wayside in favor of the sharp shudder the words send down his spine. "How did you know?"

"They say I have a sixth sense." Those steps don't stop. "Either that, or I do this sort of thing often. Take your pick; it matters very little to me."

"I'll take the option grounded in reality."

"All right."

He fidgets a bit. "So...why were you saying that it's 'all right'? This seems kinda like the polar opposite of 'all right', if you ask me."

"You don't have to worry about angering me; you can say whatever you like."

"Another of those things that matters very little to you?"

"In a way."

Those measured steps are closer now, moving around the table to the right; he jolts against the restraints in a way that burns into his wrists, and he can hear his pulse picking up pace in his ears. Seth stops in front of him; there's another rustling of fabric and an odd, heavy noise that indicates that he's jumped back to sit on the table.

He runs his tongue over his lips; they're pocked by now, and his throat is incredibly dry.

"You're here because there was some damage done in Mahogany Town earlier today," Seth volunteers in that strange, blasé tone; judging from the lightness to the words, the guy's still smiling. "I thought it was common knowledge that Mahogany is mine, but apparently I was mistaken - either way, my superior officer isn't very happy with the raid that happened there."

And with that, he's so relieved that he almost laughs; a sigh leaves him, quick and hushed. "Shit, is that what this is about? Go get your boss, then; we'll get the fuck out of your territory, just - "

"'We'...?" It's the sort of question that brings a raised eyebrow with it. "My, I was under the impression that it was just you - my mistake again, clearly. But that's neither here nor there, for the time being."

"Yeah, there are a couple more - are you going to get your boss or what?"

"Mm. Maybe in a moment; right now, we have more important things to discuss. You see, I happened to be keeping some valuables in the area; things that aren't easily replaced."

Well, shit, that was going to be harder to get around, wasn't it. "...Ah. You want repayment for that shit, I'll - "

"Actually, I don't expect to be repaid at all - I just want to be notified the next time you plan to suddenly destroy half of my city. Or any city, for that matter; I would rather prefer to not be caught up in the wanton destruction. Surely you understand; it's just rude to do otherwise, really."

"H-Hey, if that's all you want, it's no problem."

"Really?"

"Yeah! Yeah. Any notification you want. You want 24 hours, you'll get 24 hours."

"...That would be nice."

"Don't mention it."

He can hear Seth push away from the table then, landing lightly on the floor; the already-familiar tread circles around behind him. It leaves him feeling prickly, but he tries not to tense; he runs his tongue along his lip again. "So you don't need to get your boss involved, then?"

"Oh, no. He has nothing to do with this, actually."

"So...that's it, then?"

Another one of those long, uncomfortable pauses. "I don't recall saying that." Seth's knuckles crack a bit behind him; the sound is muted, as though through fabric. "After all, you did damage something that I can't replace, should I lose it. That was always going to be settled; after all, why did you think I told you that it didn't matter what you said to me?"

"I don't - "

Seth cut him off before he could get too far with that; clearly, his sixth sense again. "...Understand? It's fairly straightforward, actually - nothing you said would matter, because I've already decided exactly what I'm going to do to you."

And with those words and another vague shifting of fabric, a jolt of electricity fires through his body, setting his nerves on fire so sharply that he isn't aware that the voltage has cut off until several seconds after the fact. He can hear Seth speak, though the words - a soft easy, Ayanami, not all at once - barely register; the odd, ripped sensation in his throat is the only thing that makes him aware that he probably screamed.

He can feel Seth's hand on his shoulder; the contact burns. "That was a lovely sound you made, just now. Unrefined, but I can work with it."

"Fuck are you talking about?!"

Those lighter notes just re-enter into Seth's tone; he's smiling again.

"This is what I do in my spare time. I write symphonies."