[For the moment, Victor doesn't trust himself with Roman.
Not right now. What Roman needs is delicate hands and soft assurance, neither of which Victor is possible of giving with the black fury that curls in his chest. So, Victor takes care of the glass first. He takes it out of the bathroom, into the living area where he opens up a window. Then, without a word, tosses out onto the street below.
He gets a mop and bucket in the linen closet, filling it with water and soap. The mess in the bathroom is easy to clean up since it's nothing but water. Once that's done he sets the mop and bucket into the hallway. He'll take that down to the alley later.
By that time, most of the anger has been pushed down for the most part. He's still mad, but the furious tremors that had been making his hands shake have gone. Rejoining Roman in the bathroom he sits down on the side of the bath edge.]
[First, Roman turns on the shower to rinse most of the disgusting stuff down the drain. Then he starts filling up the tub, sitting in it, scrubbing himself. His whole body feels disgusting, sticky with wax, roiling with nausea, and his face and mouth are the worst. He's in the middle of scrubbing down his chin and throat when Victor finishes up and joins him. By now, the water is cloudy with all the soap he's used.]
Her-her name's Caitlin Snow. [It's humiliating to admit that a woman got him into this state, but he wants Victor to know. Wants him to hate her as much as he does.] Another Submissive like me. Fucking cunt.
[He commits the name to memory in the still functioning cells of his brain. It will take some time to find her and plan something properly, to humiliate her like she's done to Roman. Victor can do that. He's patient when he wants.]
[Roman nods, but can't bring himself to say anything else. When he tries, a sob bubbles up out of his throat.
He hates this. Hates crying, especially when Victor can see. But crying in front of Victor always has the effect of making Victor angrier, more protective, more caring, and he likes that. Likes the attention, even if it's not necessarily good attention. So he sobs again, and again, frantically wiping at his face.]
Sh-she-- She made me-- Ugh. [He can't even say it, but it's clear enough.] I didn't do anything. I didn't do anything to deserve this--
[Leaning forward in the bath, Victor might notice a few welts on his bare back. That's Seth's doing, not Caitlin's. Stings like a bitch from where he had to whip himself with his own belt.]
[He notices, so he's careful. He's careful when he leans forward to pull Roman's hands away from his face and keep them tight in his wrist. He's careful when he gets up and steps into the bath, shoes and all, to sit down at the other end of the tube and draw Roman into his arms.
Seeing Roman cry, truly cry, is a rarity. Something Victor profoundly despises seeing.
[Any other time, Roman might admonish Victor for dirtying up his bathwater like that. Right now, he just collapses into his arms, nuzzling against Victor's scarred chest.]
Everyone here hates me. [He didn't intend to say that, but now that he did, he can't stop talking.] They don't respect me, Victor. And the city just lets them all get away with it! How is that fair?!
It ain't fuckin' fair. [His voice, normally so low and monotone, grows a bit higher, more emotional. Rage is not something that comes to Victor often, in fact, he finds himself in quite a limited supply. It is a miracle he feels an inkling of anything at all half the time.
Now, it seems that is the only thing he is capable of feeling. Apathy has fled the premises for now.]
I can kill her. I can kill them. You know I can, I will for you.
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Not right now. What Roman needs is delicate hands and soft assurance, neither of which Victor is possible of giving with the black fury that curls in his chest. So, Victor takes care of the glass first. He takes it out of the bathroom, into the living area where he opens up a window. Then, without a word, tosses out onto the street below.
He gets a mop and bucket in the linen closet, filling it with water and soap. The mess in the bathroom is easy to clean up since it's nothing but water. Once that's done he sets the mop and bucket into the hallway. He'll take that down to the alley later.
By that time, most of the anger has been pushed down for the most part. He's still mad, but the furious tremors that had been making his hands shake have gone. Rejoining Roman in the bathroom he sits down on the side of the bath edge.]
Who.
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Her-her name's Caitlin Snow. [It's humiliating to admit that a woman got him into this state, but he wants Victor to know. Wants him to hate her as much as he does.] Another Submissive like me. Fucking cunt.
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I'll find her for you.
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He hates this. Hates crying, especially when Victor can see. But crying in front of Victor always has the effect of making Victor angrier, more protective, more caring, and he likes that. Likes the attention, even if it's not necessarily good attention. So he sobs again, and again, frantically wiping at his face.]
Sh-she-- She made me-- Ugh. [He can't even say it, but it's clear enough.] I didn't do anything. I didn't do anything to deserve this--
[Leaning forward in the bath, Victor might notice a few welts on his bare back. That's Seth's doing, not Caitlin's. Stings like a bitch from where he had to whip himself with his own belt.]
no subject
Seeing Roman cry, truly cry, is a rarity. Something Victor profoundly despises seeing.
He holds Roman close and shushes him softly.]
No, you didn't. You fuckin' didn't do nothin'.
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Everyone here hates me. [He didn't intend to say that, but now that he did, he can't stop talking.] They don't respect me, Victor. And the city just lets them all get away with it! How is that fair?!
no subject
Now, it seems that is the only thing he is capable of feeling. Apathy has fled the premises for now.]
I can kill her. I can kill them. You know I can, I will for you.