The Gig [Finished]

[yamikuronue]

Vic comes back down, in a clean shirt and the same jeans (there's no blood on them, but he dusted off the dirt from his fall as best he could). Sandwiches, he has resolved. We should do sandwiches.

...we? Like we're a family now?

Cross that bridge when I come to it.

"Hi."

[accalia]

"Welcome home" Tony replies by rote. He's got his head stuck in a cupboard, a pile of dusty cans on the counter next to him shows he was looking for soemthing in there and hasn't found it yet.

[yamikuronue]

Vic stops dead in his tracks, turning beet red. Oh... I guess he's thinking that too...?

[accalia]

After a moment Tony pulls his head out of the cupboard, his hair's covered in dust and cobwebs

"Darn, i thought i'd find a decent can of beans in there.... No such luck." Apperently he was thinking of hotdogs? or maybe something else?

[yamikuronue]

Vic still hasn't moved. Do I say something? Do I take over? What is he even planning?

[accalia]

Okay, now Tony notices.... he's pretty distractable today....

"Something wrong?"

[yamikuronue]

"Uh..." he stammers, trying to reboot his brain. "Sorry. Just. This is all... Home?"

[accalia]

"Hmm? Oh. Yes, if you want it."

that's a simple answer, but why does it feel like the reasons are far more complex?

[yamikuronue]

Vic ducks his head. "We barely know each other."

[accalia]

"So? That's a problem?"

Tony's confused again. This is simeple problem solution territory.... why is Vic saying it's complex?

[yamikuronue]

"You're acting like... like we're actually related."

[accalia]

"Does it matter how long we've known each other?" Tony doesn't think so, and that's pretty clear.

[yamikuronue]

"What if I'm a murderer, and you welcomed me in?"

[accalia]

Tony doesn't reply. He just looks at Vic with a "Really?" look. It's quite a good one, though being a cop he's had a lot of practice with it.

[yamikuronue]

"You don't know!" protests Vic. To his credit, he glances away from Tony's look, cheeks burning with shame.

One night, Andy had come home pale, ashy. His hands shook as he poured himself a glass of water, and he'd been talking about going out, getting a proper drink. He hadn't told anyone what was going on, not that night. But later, he'd confessed. Vic wasn't looking forward to his first kill, but he knew what to expect, and had plenty of time to plan how he'd react.