Talk of Norman swelled in his ears, swum in his head. A swarm of locusts plaguing his very thoughts. He imagined Norman's face, that smug sneer. That black hole of an eye socket covered by a simple patch. Edward (and perhaps Edward alone) understood how the Establishment's rabid dog had lost that eye: it was a punishment for losing Eddie the first time. When he slithered right through the enforcer's fingers. It only vulcanized Norman's hate for him, but even a miniscule part of Eddie believed it all worthy.
He smiled at Eridan. Warmly.
The kettle hissed again, a siren for attention.
Eddie drew a step closer, his eyes on Eridan. The other man had flourished under the regime -- not without his own sacrifice, of course, but comparatively, he had done more than simply survive. He had exploited. People suffered, people died because of Eridan Ampora and his survival instinct. A lesser man would have already tried to strangle that gill-lacking lackey, but Edward understood the depth to the situation. Here was Eridan Ampora, a prince reduced, an heir apparent -- his heir apparent -- suffocated. He was desperate and dire. He was alone.
Edward held the revolver to Eridan's cigarette, his free hand shadowing the back of the Alternian's head.
The blood would never dry from Eridan Ampora's hands.
Eddie shoved the gun against the other man's teeth, speaking in a measured, soft voice.
"Why shouldn't I? Tell me, Eridan, why I should not."
no subject
Talk of Norman swelled in his ears, swum in his head. A swarm of locusts plaguing his very thoughts. He imagined Norman's face, that smug sneer. That black hole of an eye socket covered by a simple patch. Edward (and perhaps Edward alone) understood how the Establishment's rabid dog had lost that eye: it was a punishment for losing Eddie the first time. When he slithered right through the enforcer's fingers. It only vulcanized Norman's hate for him, but even a miniscule part of Eddie believed it all worthy.
He smiled at Eridan. Warmly.
The kettle hissed again, a siren for attention.
Eddie drew a step closer, his eyes on Eridan. The other man had flourished under the regime -- not without his own sacrifice, of course, but comparatively, he had done more than simply survive. He had exploited. People suffered, people died because of Eridan Ampora and his survival instinct. A lesser man would have already tried to strangle that gill-lacking lackey, but Edward understood the depth to the situation. Here was Eridan Ampora, a prince reduced, an heir apparent -- his heir apparent -- suffocated. He was desperate and dire. He was alone.
Edward held the revolver to Eridan's cigarette, his free hand shadowing the back of the Alternian's head.
The blood would never dry from Eridan Ampora's hands.
Eddie shoved the gun against the other man's teeth, speaking in a measured, soft voice.
"Why shouldn't I? Tell me, Eridan, why I should not."