not_mephistopheles | LH! MiniFic: Comprehension

"I just wanted to let ya know, I figured it out."

I lift my gaze from the sonata I have rewritten three times today, still striving for the purest distillation of perfection. His grin is goading, and I do not wish to satisfy him by taking the bait. It is bad enough that he lingers here so casually, even while Christine is away. I may have to add a room for him in addition to Christine's (redesigned by her own preferences and guidance, of course) simply so he can exist somewhere outside of my immediate attention.

Today it seems he's making a special effort to grate upon my nerves. Already I have had to endure a full hour of his mediocre practice upon some manner of electrified guitar. Just tolerable enough to nag one's attention, but constantly interrupted by stutters of inexperience. It was so incredibly irksome-- I almost endeavoured to assist him! If only to grant my finely tuned ear a few moments of peace. I had stalked right to the mouth of the room, temper knotted tightly in chest; I intended to insist he cease, because he will either play correctly, or not at all.

But the moment my shadow touched the door, the sound ceased. All of the sudden, I was consumed by this smothering sensation of waiting. How absurd-- waiting for what? I abandoned the door without another thought, my purpose for enduring another direct interaction thankfully nullified.

Obnoxious, entitled cretin; I can feel those rusted metal eyes upon me.

"And what, pray tell, have you figured out?" perhaps I can stalemate his silly little game with my utter disinterest.

"Why you keep wearin' that mask."

This bore is suddenly on very thin ice!

"Is. That. So." I hiss every letter with no shortage of venom; my quill is down and I turn the full furry of my gaze upon him, allowing a warning to show in my eyes. I cannot kill him; I have no qualms hurting him if he entices me to do so.

John Hancock sits in slack yet solid posture upon the lush red sofa; despite the fact that I had felt him looking at me, he seems completely distracted by his task, and I cannot help but suffer another stab of irritation, as if he has somehow fooled me. Despite myself, I cannot completely smother my curiosity at hi intricate task. He holds a long thin metal instrument, each end gently curved into a hook-like shape. He seems to be pressing one hooked tip to something upon a folded paper that I cannot see. His casual and careless aura offends me enough to draw a snarl upon my face. How dare he goad me --in my own home!-- and refuse to face my rightful reaction!

"Yeah, it is," his raspy words slide from behind his grin, goading and yet...

--I banish the searching thought, in no mood to entertain it. I do not care what this ghoul hides behind his serpentine smile.

The blue flame from a tiny torch touches the translucent bowl of his odd little apparatus, and once it begins to glow with the heat, he promptly places down the torch and touches the tip of his slender metal tool to the scorched glass. The vapor such actions create smells sweet and earthy, and for half a moment I am curious before I remember his impudence.

"Dare I inquire of your great epiphany?" I feel the growl of my words vibrate inside my chest, and a moment later I am on my feet without even deciding to move. I dare him to keep talking as all common sense should frighten him to silence! He never cowers, never flinches from my gaze.

Perhaps I ought to show him why he should!

"You do it as a favor, to me. Gotta tell ya, I appreciate it."

"What in the frozen heart of hell are you blathering about, you heedless imbecile?!" If he is implying that my ugliness offends him--

"Aw, you're really gonna make me spell it out. Alright, fine. I'll say it. Erik, you are way better looking than me."

Suddenly everything seems off without ever changing, the the backwards side of a mirror. A few disorientated moments stumble by, and I haven't the slightest clue what to think, or what to say.

"What?"

"Don't give me that, it's true! Some folk don't even blink at the thought of hookin' up with a ghoul, and you? Damn, you're class A ass as far as us noseless freaks go. You got charisma, musical talent, this whole broody, sexy reaper vibe happening--"

A thunderous bay of rage voids my lungs as I absolutely see red at the sheer unadulterated disrespect--

My slender needle-like fingers bite into that ratty red coat and haul the grinning ghoul up without the slightest hint of effort. I throw him against the closest wall and am upon him a moment later; my knife finds my hand as if it is only home when wrapped in my grip. The blade's tip is poised at the adam's apple of his throat, and there is so little from stopping me from plunging it in. He wouldn't die, of course. But he wouldn't be able to vex me further with that audacious abrasive voice!

"You dare to mock me inside my own home? You dare to spit these cruel jests when you are among the very, very few I have allowed into this space? You already vex me, boy. You are already beneath my skin. It is dangerous to give me yet more reason to act upon my impulses, but please, give me just one more bloody reason."

I turn my smooth-edged hunting knife so the elegant curve plants a cutting kiss upon the slope of his neck, and the tiny bit of blood that wells like a bead and then drips down the line of my knife pleases me in the pulse below my stomach.

And then, he leans eagerly into the blade.

"Chris tell ya I like it rough, brother? Come on, you're bein' gentle, by my standards. Sexy beast like you? I'm into it... heh, I'm into it already, if you know what I mean."

And I have absolutely no idea what to do

When I realize he is completely serious.

~*~