[attr="class","beck"]"they're busy."

not much else needs to be said because merlino doesn't deserve more than that. he hasn't earned it. he hasn't experienced what others have. he hasn't struggled to survive as others have. resentment rises, uncontrollable, but they settle as he shifts his gaze away.

the kid at the bar stands, wipes stray tears from his eyes, and walks into the bathroom at the end of the room. theo makes a subtle gesture towards it, then reaches for his book once again.

"now would be good."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

Theo looks away. Though he is not openly threatened, Gavin understands that there will be no further argument.

Nerves see him snatch the glass of warming beer from the table and take a few, hearty chugs, as if liquid courage might inspire him to commit an unforgiveable act. With a last, resentful glance at the admin who continues to read, he heads for the bathroom.

His heart is pounding. His hands aren't shaking, yet.

But he must look a poor sight with pale, clammy skin, for his target sets aside his own troubles to voice concern. "Hey, are you all right? You don't look so good, maybe you should drink some water or something."

"I'm fine," Gavin snaps, rougher than intended, because this was not making it easier. It makes him hesitate, hand in his pocket gripping his blade like a lifeline and wishing it were a gun. It would be quick, then, less struggle.

His target backs off with hands lifted, mumbles something Gavin doesn't catch before shuffling away.

He was innocent. He was some poor, innocent kid drinking away his grief in a bar and with the decency to check on a stranger in that bar's bathroom — and Gavin was expected to kill him in cold blood because his brother had made bad choices.

This was fucked. This was so fucked.

And just like that, it was over. Not because Gavin musters the courage to strike, but because he doesn't — the would-be victim finishes his business and slips past the Rocket grunt to the freedom and safety of the bar outside.

[attr="class","beck"]the moment the door to the bathroom slides shut is when theo pockets the book in favor for his drink. he holds it in one hand, the other peering down at his watch. he loses himself in the ticking, in how each second passes almost too slowly.

and then the door bursts open, and from it comes someone who's meant to be dead. his eyes trail him all the way out of the bar, follows him as far as his vision allows. sighing, he finishes what remains of his drink, and walks towards the bathroom.

the door locks behind him. he approaches merlino.

"tell me what happened."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

In the short time it takes for his would-be victim to exit the bar, Gavin steels his nerves as best he can. He'll tell Beckett that someone else was in the bathroom, that he'd missed his opportunity, that—

The door opens, and hope of deception shutters with its lock.

He steps back instinctively as Theo steps forward, until there is a wall at his back and nowhere to go. He had identified the only other exit to the bathroom upon first entering. A textured window high above, large enough to slip through—

—but not quick enough to escape.

His gaze flicks to it on instinct, then back to Beckett.

"I-I panicked, sir." His voice quivers, self loathing coiled like a serpent in his gut. "I thought I heard someone behind us, and he'd already left by the time I realized it was a false alarm." He's lying through his teeth in a desperate bid to save himself. With death looming in front of him, his sympathies are forced aside. "I didn't want any witnesses. I can do it, though — I will, just—"

[attr="class","beck"]"you know what happens when you fail, merlino."

whatever lies are being spat fall on uncaring ears. it's not rage that rises but something else entirely — disappointment, maybe. it's what brings his hand onto merlino's shoulder, and what would usually be a compassionate gesture is marred by what follows.

the hand slithers behind merlino's neck, tugging with such force that it seems to drag him all the way into the mirror on the wall. glass cracks under the pressure, drawing blood, but it doesn't shatter. his hand lingers, pushing, restraining, before eventually releasing.

"i assume he saw your face."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

Beneath the hand that Theo lays on Gavin's shoulder, he will feel muscles rigid with fear. Gavin knows, even before the grip shifts to his neck, that this is no gesture of consolation.

He doesn't fight it.

Glass cracks without breaking and slips through a delicate barrier of flesh. Pain lances above Gavin's right eye and blood fills his vision; he struggles, then, tries to push himself away from the threat on instinct alone, but Beckett's grip holds firm.

When the admin lets him go, Gavin staggers back from the wall with a hand clamped over his eye. In his panic, he assumes it's been blinded. There's fury in him tempered by fear, held back by the expectation of something worse should he lash out. When he lifts his head to peer at his assailant through his good eye, there's hollow surprise to find Theo staring back at him. He'd almost forgotten where he was.

Reality descends with the blood that leaks through gaps in his fingers.

"Yeah," he snaps with tone unchecked, "course he saw my face, but it's not like he knows I was going to kill him!"

[attr="class","beck"]this time, disrespect will not go unpunished. it comes in the form of a punch, quick yet strong, into merlino's abdomen. despite targeting an area with more flesh, his knuckles sting from the impact, and as the pain pulses through him, this time it's rage that surfaces.

if merlino hasn't tipped over by now, the same hand shoves him by the face. he turns then to the sink, cups his hands underneath running water that feels too hot, and takes a moment to breathe.

"you have one more chance."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

The punch knocks the wind from him, a choked gasp of air leaving his lungs as he doubles over. Pain radiates from the point of contact, already bruised ribs aching anew. He remains on his feet through sheer force of will before the admin shoves him down.

His back presses against tile, cold where his shirt has ridden up. He curls in on himself and leans against the wall for support, not getting up. He is afraid that if he gets up too early, it won't end well. He focuses on breathing, slow.

Yet for all the resentment that builds in the hollow of his chest, he is grateful for a second chance.

"Thank you."

With the aid of a sink basin, Gavin struggles to his feet. A furtive glance is shot toward the admin in fear of repercussion, but failing that he would finally remove his hand from an injury that belongs not to his eye, as he'd thought, but the brow above it.

Carefully, wincing at the pain, he'd set to addressing the wound with shaky hands.

[attr="class","beck"]"you have five minutes."

soon, theo finds fresh air as a cool breeze sweeps by him, rippling the ends of his blazer. he sighs, takes a moment, then steps to the side and leans against the brick wall. there, he waits and loses himself in the few cigarettes he has until the door eventually opens and he's dragged back to reality again.

it's sobering, to say the least.

"good. you didn't run."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

Water stings as it washes out the cuts, swirls pink around the drain. Gavin cleans up not only his face but the smear of blood against the basin, too, the rivulets of blood that sneak between a mirror's cracks.

He is told five minutes, and emerges in three.

His gaze is downcast from the jump, defiance knocked out of him along with the wind. "No, sir." Because Rocket would find him, and their punishments would only get worse. He did not want to be the next man tied to a chair with a recruit standing over him.

Shaking hands are shoved in pockets so as to hide his weakness. He scans the area mostly to avoid looking in Theo's direction, but his drifting gaze falters as the target comes into view. Though he had left the bar, he had not gone far. He sat alone at a bus stop across the street, shoulders slumped as he scrolled through his phone. Gavin feels the weight of Theo's presence even without looking in the admin's direction. He knows there will not be a third chance.

He crosses the street before he can talk himself out of it.

"Hey, mate, sorry about earlier, I've had a shit night." The eyes that flick up to meet his own are startlingly blue, rimmed with the red of grief. There is no anger as it lingers on the cut above Gavin's eye. "Looks like you've got it worse though, yeah?"

He sits down on the bench, offers a smile he doesn't feel.

[attr="class","beck"]to kill time, theo retrieves another cigarette, crunching what remains of the last one beneath his shoe. his head tilts back, leaning against cool brick, as he stares up at the night sky. despite the bright lights of celadon, some stars still manage to find their way through, peeking through gray clouds.

for moments, he is reminded of simpler times. if he closes his eyes and pretends hard enough, he could be back on cinnabar. the air would smell different, the sky would be littered with more stars, but it would be just as silent. no thoughts would litter his head, drowning every waking moment. to feel normal, even for only one night.

a smoke-filled exhale tilts his head back down. they've gone off into some alley, no doubt, and so he pushes himself off the wall, steps on the cigarette, and makes his way over.

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

The boy is easy to talk to; Gavin's not sure if it's blessing or curse. Conversation and laughter distracts as they turn away from a bustling street down an alley that would lead beyond. They are not uncommon in Celadon, and his mark doesn't see the danger.

Not until it's too late.

Gavin strikes like a viper. He pauses long enough to let the other get two steps ahead, then lunges to wrap an arm around his throat. A crushed windpipe muffles any cry for help, for mercy. Rocket have been training him — fight, win, kill.

It's not as messy as his first, but guilt burrows thrice as deep.

Blood on brick, on the knife, on his hands. He shoves them in his pockets and returns to Theo in the aftermath. A thin veneer of forced calm is easily glimpsed through with a trained gaze — Gavin's eyes are wide, pulse quick and breath unsteady. There's a vacancy to him as his conscience shrivels in defense of the mind.

He utters no words; it's clear the deed is done.

[attr="class","beck"]the wide, glossed-over look is almost too familiar, so he does what was done to him — he snaps his hand up, grabbing merlino by his jaw, and squeezes to get his attention.

"where's the body?"

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn