(no subject)

[captainryan]

There's a full moon tonight. No surprise, then, that Ryan is outside. He's still feeling twitchy, though it's not from lack of space. This is an anticipatory twitch, the kind a predator gets before it stalks its prey.

If his prey is even out here. There's no guarantee that Le Chiffre will leave the safety of the bar, even in daylight. But the thought that he might, the possibility that Ryan may be able to carry out his self-imposed objective, is enough to keep him on his toes. He's been keeping tabs on the man for some time, now, and he knows that Le Chiffre will occasionally step outdoors.

And so he paces the tree line and watches the door.

Comments

[weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com]

When the weather's right and his boredom is high enough, Milliway's grounds can be enough to draw Le Chiffre out. Though generally not the outdoors type, fresh air and an easy space for solitude has him spending time out by the lake and woodlands every now and then.

For now his aim is simply to head out to the lakeside and wander, and he does so with a slightly hunched walk and hands in pockets, watching the ground beneath him.

He's not planned what he'll do when he finds a spot, but it'll probably include a lot of sitting around in silence.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Pace pace pace pace.

Even the demon rabbits won't approach him when he's like this, since usually it means he's hunting them.

Pace pace pac - ooo. He goes still when he sees that the newest person to leave is indeed Le Chiffre. He hunches his head forward and down, intent on the man's movements. The wind's blowing the wrong way, but his nostrils flare regardless.

When Le Chiffre heads towards the lake, Ryan keeps the distance between them the same, willing to wait until an opportunity presents itself.

[weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com]

Apart from a brief glance over his shoulder, there is little more done that would have allowed him to spot Ryan. Le Chiffre's not a hunter and has a very limited experience of such. The only thing in his favour is a constant paranoia gained from years of having people wanting him dead. But he's dead now, and has since rarely seen the point of worrying about it.

He does eventually stop his idle wandering, stooping for a moment to pick up a pebble and flick it across the still surface of the lake, odd eyes trained on the number of bounces. It's a childish activity but it helps him think.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

The woods have curved closer to the lake here, and Ryan chooses this moment to step forward out of them. He rolls his shoulders as he nears Le Chiffre, not bothering to keep the prowl out of his walk. Moon this close, it's nearly impossible anyway.

"Le Chiffre," he calls out when he's close enough, voice low, meeting the human's eyes when he turns with an unblinking stare, all of a predator's intent behind them.

[weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com]

Another pebble skims the surface with a few light bounces and a flicked wrist before he settles his hands back into his pockets with a thoughtful furrow to his brow.

The name being spoken finally gets him to peer over his shoulder, turning slowly to fully face Ryan and sweeping his gaze up and down the other for a moment as if sizing him up. There are far too many who know his name.

"That would be me," he replies in a dull tone, covering up for his uncertainty at the other's rather feral like approach.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Ryan sniffs at the air, a tooth-filled grin appearing across his face.

"I must say, I'm rather glad to see you outside," he says, pacing just out of arm's reach, never dropping his gaze from Le Chiffre.

"We have a mutual acquaintance I'd like to discuss by the name of Deitmar."

[weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com]

Le Chiffre keeps a certain air of disdain at the conversation, features only faltering momentarily at the mention of Deitmar. He's still not entirely over the whole ordeal, and it would appear Deitmar's friends aren't either. And what a creepy bunch of friends they are.

"I know of the name, though perhaps not enough to hold a discussion on him." Ryan's a week too late. Le Chiffre would have happily talked all day about Wesker back then.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Ryan stops moving and tilts his head at Le Chiffre, a canine movement if ever there was one. The smile fades, though his teeth are still bared.

"A pity. It means I have no reason to postpone this." He closes the distance between them and strikes Le Chiffre's head with his fist.

[weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com]

There's a flicker of a curious frown still hidden behind the glare, a question just starting to be raised at Ryan's last statement before movement breaks out. His reaction is a little slow on the uptake, and just as his foot is shifting to take a step back, he's struck.

It appears Ryan has an impressive knock out punch.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

It's the extra speed.

Ryan checks his surroundings are clear before hefting Le Chiffre over his shoulder and heading towards the trees. It's hard not to do anything right there and then, with human meat that close, but he holds himself. That Special Forces training isn't useless, you know.

When the human comes to, they'll be deep in the woods, no landmarks to give their location away except the mountains in the distance. Le Chiffre's been propped against a tree, with Ryan standing about twenty feet away from him, just staring, head slightly tilted.

[weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com]

A sharp intake of breath is the only thing signaling him regaining consciousness at first, taking a few moments to kick his brain into gear before his eyes fly open. His gaze darts back and forth then finally settles on Ryan, shifting against the tree he sat at with lightly hidden anxiety.

The surroundings are unfamiliar, his head hurts like hell and for the first time in a thankfully long time his usual role in this sort of happening seems to have reversed. Unsurprisingly, his tone isn't too friendly when he does gather the nerve to speak, "Do I know you?"

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"No."

The sun's closer to the horizon, the moon closer to rising, and Ryan's having a little trouble with thinking past food right in front of me. His nostrils flare at the anxiety, and his head hunches forward and down into a stalking position.

[weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com]

"Right. Mind telling me who you are then?" He questions with a level tone, at least able to keep his demeanour impassive, even if his mind was already spiralling close to a state of nervousness.

Despite his questioning, he didn't want to stick around for conversational purposes, and had already decided that getting the hell away from the weirdo would be a good idea. This is probably the reason he's already beginning to push himself up, slowly, ever so slowly, to avoid any head spinning.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

And just as slowly, Ryan moves one foot forward. Part of him is hoping Le Chiffre runs for it so Ryan can chase him down.

The other is realizing the sound the prey is making is a question.

"As I said before, an acquaintance of Deitmar's," he replies, tone detached.

[weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com]

Le Chiffre doesn't appreciate being eyed in such a manner, and returns the favour with a heavy furrow of his brow, now on his feet and leaning up against the trunk for support. Give him some time and he may work out the whole full moon connection, but his brain's still not fully functional yet.

It functions well enough for sarcasm though, "Very informative, thank you."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

There's a short bark of laughter.

"It's not meant to be, Le Chiffre," Ryan responds chidingly, pronouncing the name perfectly. "The only thing you need to know is that you need to learn not to kidnap people." Pause. Head tilt.

"Of course, with the way I plan to teach it, it won't be an issue anyway."

[weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com]

A flicker of panic flashes through his eyes and is gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced with a forced smirk.

"And so you plan to threaten me to death? Unique, but hardly worrying." Unlike Ryan though, Le Chiffre really is all talk and not much more. He may be giving an impressive attempt at playing it cool, but his slow reach for his beloved inhaler tucked away in his pocket may suggest otherwise.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Ryan draws a deep breath through his nose, eyes half lidded. Panic? Is intoxicating.

"Tonight's a full moon," he says almost dreamily, lazily watching Le Chiffre's movements.

[weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com]

Taking a sharp puff from the platinum inhaler, he nods his vague agreement, attention lifting skywards with a noticeable reluctance to check on the dimming light.

"Which is exactly why I should retreat back to the Bar for the night," he replies with an attempt at confidence, pushing himself away from the tree with the full intention of getting away the moment he can.

Yeah, he's started to make the connection between the full moon and the crazy guy.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Ryan seems to consider this.

"I have to disagree," he concludes, drawing his pistol.

Here's hoping you didn't need that kneecap, Le Chiffre.

[weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com]

He did need it, actually.

And he was about to state his protest at the sight of the firearm but found bullets to be a lot quicker than words. A lot more painful too.

With a yell that was probably heard a fair way into the woodlands, he was suddenly slumping heavily back against the tree once more, then slipping to the ground while clutching his knee in more than obvious agony. His choice of black suits doesn't show up the blood much, and he's thankful for that at least.

Ryan doesn't get much more than a pained glare, because Le Chiffre's far too busy swearing in numerous foreign languages under his breath. At least he's not a screamer.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Ryan's silent, gun still pointed as the shot and yell fade away. For a moment, his eyes are closed, head tilted up slightly as he catches the newest scent.

Blood.

Le Chiffre just smells so damn good, blood and fear and human. He's fighting against the impulse to indulge himself, to close that last distance between them and sink his teeth into Le Chiffre's jugular and rip it out, to feel the wash of arterial spray over him just before he starts to feed. He almost loses it right there. He's barely winning as he holsters his sidearm and huffs the heady aroma from his lungs. It’s not time to follow it, not when he’ll be better equipped later. He meets (and holds) Le Chiffre's eyes.

"There," Ryan says, sounding breathless.

[weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com]

Le Chiffre hardly hears Ryan over the pounding in his head and constant throbbing pain in his knee. He can hear his own pulse, rapid and erratic, coursing through his body and drumming in his ears. His blood apparently deciding to take a route straight down to his wound has got him feeling far to light headed, paling considerably and wishing little more than to fall unconscious just to stop the agony.

What little blood he does have left steaks from the corner of his scarred eye, mixing with real tears that are ready to shed. He can't keep Ryan's stare for more than a few moments before bowing his head and gritting his teeth in a tormented grimace, managing to choke out a few words as level as he can, "What do you want from me?"

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

And again it takes Ryan a moment to realize the prey is communicating. He tilts his head slightly, still watching, and showing his teeth. For the first time a growl fills the air.

"A guarantee that this incident with Deitmar won't happen again."

[weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com]

"That's it?!"

Right now he's almost certain he'd apologise and admit to anything if it meant taking this pain away, but he knows such a thing isn't entirely possible.

"I.. wasn't myself. I was sick," he responds, pausing again to fight back another wave of unrelenting affliction, and taking a second to glance down at his wound. He can't see anything other than his hands are covered in blood. His blood.