daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

[Sounds a lot like his place, i.e. only clean where the eye can see.

Anyway, Ardyn shows up in exactly sixteen minutes, and she should hear the door opening to announce his arrival. He does the polite thing, though, only lingering in the entranceway after he shuts the door behind him, and announces his presence soon after.]

I'm here, Rosalind. Rejoice, if you will.

It's a bit too late for that.

[She's always fond of him, of course, but Rosalind looks just a touch guarded as she comes around the corner and nods at him in greeting.]

Do you want anything?

[She has some tea: proper stuff, brewed and steeped and all the other million and one things you apparently have to do with tea.]

[He quirks a brow in her direction, noticing the subtlety in her demeanor. Ardyn has a feeling it has to do with the subject of their texting back and forth, but he'll not press the issue immediately -- it'll come up on his own, he thinks. That or he'll just lightly prod at her until she concedes.

For now, though. Tea.]

Tea would be fine, if it's no trouble.

Mm.

[She nods her head, indicating Ardyn ought to follow. It's a very fancy kitchen she leads him to. This, of all the places in the flat, is most decidedly unused. The counters are wonderfully clean, the knives all sharp in their block, the sink suspiciously free of pots or pans . . . this is a kitchen unused.

The take-out boxes in the fridge kind of give the game away too. Oh, well. At least the kettle gets put to good use, and once that's on the stove, Rosalind hoists herself up on the counter.]

Do you want to chit-chat, or shall we just get to the point?

[And follow he does. The neatness of the kitchen -- no, the newness of the kitchen -- does not escape Ardyn's notice.

But it's also not something work remarking on right now, not when faced like a question like that.]

Straight to the point, preferably. Let me hear it.

Well--

[She wrinkles her nose.]

I should think you ought to give me a few tips first.

[He tilts his gaze at her, only slightly.]

Tips? To irritate?

Well, yes. That's the entire reason I asked you in the first place.

[Honestly. And if she's being a bit waspish, it's only because she hates discussing things where she isn't already an expert.]

I have one idea, but . . . well. I suppose it's foolish to worry about going too far.

Why not just leave that to me? I'll be there if Jack allows it, and even you said I was an expert in frustrating others.

[But, he'll still help her regardless.]

What was the one idea?

We'll do it together.

[Not only because it's her experiment, but because this way, she can treat herself as a control group with Ardyn as an unknown factor.]

Burt I thought to remind him of his wife, in a fashion.

From what I know, she died around my age. And here he is, some ten-odd years later, hanging around a woman who's very fond of both him and Tony, who trusts them both very much and who frequently stands between them, and who sometimes ends up fielding them both when they fight. I imagine the connection is already there in his mind. I'm not suggesting he's somehow secretly in love with me, nothing so stupid, but I imagine there are moments where the similarities strike him.

I told you about the night I spent with Tony. Jack warned me that afternoon not to do just that. He told me it was a foolish idea to go drinking with Tony while I was so lonely, and that I'd be better off doing almost anything else.

So. I thought to remind him of those similarities, and then, once the association was at the forefront of his mind, to tell him that I did end up doing all that he warned me not to, up to and including sleeping with Carter.

[Ardyn listens, his brows pinching together slightly as Rosalind continues.]

I take it you haven't told him that this is what you're planning.

[It seems... well, cruel, in its own way. Perhaps less so because it's for empirical purposes, but even Ardyn has to admit that if anything might work, that would be it. He hopes Jack knows what he's getting into.]

And you want help with the actual "script" of what you wish to say, in order to instigate this irritation even more effectively?

Mm. Either that, or a different idea.

[Because she's perfectly aware of just how cruel that idea is, should it work. And while Jack had laughed off the idea she could do any permanent damage, still this feels like a poor idea.]

Well, do you think a narrative is at all necessary? Maybe it's best to start simpler.

[He pauses.] Did he tell you the circumstances surrounding what caused him to attack his friend in the first place? He mentioned something about his grandmother.

Tony was acting as if he'd call her. And I know she, ah, she abused him very badly when he was a child. It's hardly a surprise he reacted the way he did. Which doesn't mean I approve of what he did, mind, but . . . given what he's told me of his grandmother, a violent reaction seems the logical follow-up.

[He frowns.] Bringing up his grandmother seems just as cruel as what you were planning before.

[But at least that way, they know it's a route that works.]

The alter ego he described to me in his memories... He seems sociopathic, narcissistic, and masochistic. The type of person he certainly does not wish to "revert" to. If you use your rhetoric, perhaps, to imply that once the line is crossed, there's no going back-- Maybe that'll make him more malleable to slip back into what he might've once been?

Tease him. Patronize him. Mixing irritation and discouragement might be more effective than we realize.

[It's almost surprising how easily this comes to him.]

If that doesn't work... then maybe we can try the other alternatives.

[She leans forward, frowning as she considers that. It's not a frown of dislike, but rather simple thought. Her point of concern had been that they still don't quite know what sets this other persona off; that it would be useful to establish just how far Jack can be pushed before he snaps. She hadn't considered the possibility (distinct, though) that pushing him over that edge might make it easier for next time.

Hm. Well. Put it like that, and no, it's not a very good idea at all, is it . . .]

What do you mean, masochistic?

[Not particularly. And perhaps one of the insecurities that Jack had shared with him, though not in so many words -- one of the reasons why Ardyn had been against the idea in the first place.

But if Jack had agreed to it, there's only so far Ardyn will go to stop him.]

Forgive me, sadistic. Did he not tell you of this memory?

[You know, the one where he murdered people (admittedly in self-defense) and loved it.]

Ah. Well. Yes. I could have done without being informed about the state of the contents of his trousers during that memory, but . . . yes.

Do you truly think there's a chance he'll start reverting back to his old self the more he remembers him?

[He gives her a look, because of course Jack would be so... descriptive.]

I think the possibility is there.

[And then, a very clear hesitation.]

Don't tell him that I said this to you, but... The evidence isn't very encouraging, is it? He only had this outburst after he regained several memories of the type of person his past self was. Is there proof that this won't be a continuing trend?

But I hope I'm wrong.

Mm.

[No, it's not. Jack had said he'd strangled people before, but . . . this had come across as something very nearly involuntary.]

. . . I'm worried about him. Everyone else I've spoken to, their memories aren't so bad. Even your memory on the train . . . it's odd, and unsettling, but ultimately not that awful. But Jack . . . heroics and murders and a planet full of madmen . . . I'm dreading the next memory.

[Concern blossoms in him again at the thought. That twinge of useless, the inability to do much for his friend as he's pelted with these awful memories. How he hates that feeling, more than anything.]

...I understand. I am, too. And yet what can we do? If these experiments tell us nothing, all we can do is support him as he tries to sort out his sense of self before it becomes too twisted with the past. Whatever consolation that might bring.

Yes.

[And as they're already discussing feelings, she might as well go all in.]

I suppose I'm still clinging to the hope that he knows for a fact he was a hero. I finally understand what you two meant when you said there was a certainty about these things.

Bear with me as I state something terribly cliche. The idea of a "hero" is very relative. His past self could still believe it and ruthlessly murder people.

[The villain is always the hero of their own story, etc etc.

But he feels a bit bad talking about Jack like this. It shows in the way he exhales and brings up a hand to move a lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes.]

Still, I'd cling to that hope for now. Maybe he had been truly heroic once.

[She hums softly, agreeing with that point. It's perfectly possible, but god, she hopes it's not true. That would imply a whole host of disturbing things about their friend, ones she's not yet willing to contemplate.]

There's no way to know until he regains more of his memories.

[She sighs briskly and finally sips her tea.]

On another note . . . I don't suppose you've regained anymore of those, have you?

[A shake of his head.]

No. I haven't. A fact that's equally frustrating as it is a relief.

And you?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

i meant sadistic lmfao

STILL WEIRD EITHER WAY, DON'T GET OFF ON THAT KIDS

#villainproblems

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject