(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.

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[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.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"I know," Ryan says coolly, head still tilted as the growl fades. "Magical influence causing you to fall in love, caused by who knows what." The growl returns, full force.

"But kidnapping Deitmar was still your own choice."

[weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com]

He's really going to have to start picking his victims more carefully.

"A choice that was done under magical influence," his excuse comes with a slight flinch, either from his wound or the growl, and his words are said evenly but with what seems to be a fair amount of effort.

"I had no intention of harming him."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"You knocked him unconscious," Ryan points out, voice (and growl) getting deeper.

[weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com]

Despite himself, Le Chiffre sounds somewhat exasperated at the discussion. This no doubt has something to do with the fact he's been shot in the kneecap and has no inclination to sit around and talk right now.

Rolling his eyes upwards for a moment he responds with his own irritated and pained snarl, "So what? It's a bump on the head. He'll get over it, I'm sure.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

That's fine, since Ryan's just about finished.

"As am I. You, however, won't." Ryan glances up at the dimming sky, a predator's grin spreading across his features.

"Until the moon rises, Le Chiffre," he says as he turns to walk away.

[weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com]

Le Chiffre moves to get up, but realises what an incredibly stupid idea that is and slumps back heavily with a muffled grunt of distress, gaze following after Ryan with a sudden edge of panic.

Even if this is a bluff, he's not going to let it lie. He's already found that gambling his life doesn't work out too well, "Wait. WAIT! You're not seriously leaving me here? You can't.."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Ryan stops and turns back part way, head tilted.

"Can't I?" he asks, sounding amused.

[weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com]

"You've made your point, all right? I get it. No kidnapping. Fine." Le Chiffre's response doesn't sound at all amused and is still laced with plenty of uneasiness. It's surprising how a state of panic can suddenly make him talkative again and entirely forget about his wound.

"Just.. let me go. I can make it worth your while." Apparently he's still not beyond trying to use money as persuasion.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

That gets Ryan to turn around fully, an incredulous look on his face.

And then he laughs.

Not evilly or maniacally, or even for all that long, but he does laugh.

"You are sadly mistaken if you think to buy me off." The smile's still there, but his eyes have gone hard and flat. That was his pack mate, Le Chiffre. No chance.

[weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com]

The failed attempt at bribery doesn't seem to entirely dampen his spirit when it comes to squirming out of a tight situation, but he is now dropping his gaze like a scolded teenager, "It was worth a try."

He's getting desperate, he can't think straight when his knee is hurting like hell, and he's really lacking in excuses for his actions. Maybe just owning up to it will help. And if it doesn't, at least he died telling the truth, "The punishment is hardly befitting the crime here. So yes, I did knock him out, but it went no further than some poetry recital, then an easy escape for him. I didn't even go after him after that!"