2013-02-20 Symbolism

The day's barely gotten itself up and running and already there's a message out on the system. It's for Kurt. It requests him stopping by Domino's office at his earliest convenience. Given how Kurt tends to operate and that she's never left such a message before, she isn't expecting to wait long. Turns out that she's right on that assumption.

When you arrive Dom is sitting at her desk, slung back in her chair with armored legs crossed and heavy boots perched upon the corner. Laid out across the otherwise perfectly clean surface are eight different firearms, organized in a picture-perfect layout that takes symmetry, empty space, and perhaps even some twisted level of feng shui into consideration. Some are assembled, some are stripped down to parts so tiny they look like they belong inside a ballpoint pen. All of them appear to be unloaded, with one possible exception. The one that's slung lazily within her left palm, half-gloved fingers lax around the frame and grip.

A bottle of rum sits nearby, its inclusion within the layout properly thought out. There even appears to be a designated landing spot for the glass, though right now it's resting in her lap with some help from her other hand. Directly in front of her, surrounded by all of these tools of violence? A single white rose.

"Flowers are often symbolic. Take the white rose, for instance. It alone has quite a few common interpretations. Innocence, spirituality, sympathy, remembrance, honor, reverence, virtue, unity, charm, silence, humility, youthfulness, purity of love, and a sign of a to-be-wed bride."

She hesitates long enough to have another sip from her glass, coming back to rest in her lap as fingertips gently drum once across the transparent cup. "I know that I'm not getting married, and you said that you were done trying for love. That's three down right off the bat. I'm an atheist and a gun for hire, no room for innocence, spirituality, or virtue. Up to six. You're likely to get more sympathy from a Hallmark card than from me and I don't need any for myself, that's seven. Honor just seems unlikely, it's not something I'm usually credited with. There's eight. Humility doesn't have much of a place in things and youthfulness seems like a stretch given that we were out getting trashed yesterday. Ten down. Charm you've already shown me and I don't have enough to earn myself a prize for it. Make that eleven."

"This leaves three. Remembrance, reverence, and silence. Deep respect, which would be flattering, or a sign that I've left a deep, lasting impression upon you, which given your personality would seem appropriate enough."

She sets the glass down in its reserved location then plucks the rose from the desk, idly rolling it around between the tips of her fingers. "My vote's on silence, given our previous conversation. A sign that my secret is safe with you. So, I thought the least I could do here was offer you a chance to explain which one it is, since it was apparently important enough to merit invading my personal space while I slept to deliver such a message."

Kurt does, indeed, get the request, and with glass of water in hand to rehydrate. His head is in a state of disarray that requires that he ONLY drink the pure liquid. He's had a couple of pieces of dry bread, and thankfully, only a class of upperclassmen on the list for the morning.


 * bamf*

And there he is, straightening, his left hand idly scritching his right arm, his right hand flexing. "Is everything.." and he slows, "...alright.." Pause. "Leibchen?" as he sees the tableau laid out before him. Shoulders roll backwards, his tail flexes up a little, and he blinks those glowing yellow eyes.

A hint of a smile begins to crease, a little.. uncomfortable, perhaps? Did he make a mistake?

As she begins her monologue, Kurt finds a place in which to perch; the chair is pulled closer to her desk and he settles in it, his forearms resting upon his knees as he looks from you to the desk.. and back again. As she continues, the smile grows, and his tail twitches. Once at the end? That smile is wide, showing those pointed teeth.

"It was pretty, und it reminded me of you."

He lets that sink in before he stretches out and reaches for the rose in the center of the guns, and lifts it to smell the scent. "But, if you wanted to hear me say it, your secret is safe with me." Beat. "This should have been put in water. If it is not cared for, it will wilt."

Control. It's a thing which Domino desires. Not over others so much, only over herself. Her life. If that means assuming temporary control over others when they step too far into her life, that's alright as well. Since leaving the bar last night, she knew some of that control was going to disappear.

What she hadn't counted on was losing all of it, flat-out, when it came to dealing with you.

She stops altogether, watching you as you take a turn with the flower. She had everything so -perfectly- laid out, she had this conversation by the proverbial balls, and out of nowhere you found her blind spot and struck a disabling blow. Her attempt to retain control caused her to overlook one of the most basic parts of her former training. The simplest answer is usually the correct answer.

The hand with the gun flops downward, coming to rest draped at a low angle off the edge of the chair until the pistol falls out of sight behind the desk. "Well son of a bitch." Just when she thought that she had you completely figured out, no more surprises waiting around the corner.

Her other hand comes up to lightly support her forehead, thumb rubbing against pale flesh. "Okay, I wasn't prepared for this one."

Point to you, Blue.

"To see it there on the pillow, with you sleeping so soundly.. it made me smile." To see that she could rest so comfortably, even if it was out of drink and near exhaustion. He wasn't long after her, only..

"I was in the lounge," and Kurt sits upon the edge of the desk, his tail moving the guns out of the way, setting them carefully to the side. "Und.. something came to my attention. I think I've gained.. the attentions of another. She, too, is a prodigal child, returning home. Another who lives by her wits." He lowers his head, "At that moment, I realized that I needed to get you something that would tell you of my regard."

It's pretty.

Thank goodness she wasn't drooling at the time... Some of those late-night benders can really bring out the best in a person.

When you relocate to the desk and start moving her weapons around you might notice a subtle bristling of the woman sitting on the other side, that typical tensing of various muscle groups. Before she can make eye contact with you again she stares at the displaced items, quickly and quietly reaching out to adjust the rotation of one of them. Then another. ..And one more.

It's only then that Dom can meet your curious, blank looking yellow stare, her own head canted to one side as though being thoughtful. "Told ya you could have your pick of the lot around here." Without looking away from you she gently shifts the position of yet another displaced piece of hardware, as if she had a sixth sense for item placement on top of any bar-scouting and weapon-sniffing skills. "Another homeless kid? Nothing unusual there, sounds like you'll soon have another pretty young thing pining for your attention after class lets out."

The next part, though... Dom gets one of those humorless smirks about her, this one seeming to ask the rhetorical question of 'really, Kurt?' "It's sweet of you, but ..." she cuts herself off with a faint sigh. Would she accomplish anything useful by telling you it hadn't been necessary? This one seems to be more for your benefit than for her own. This new girl, is she troubling you that much..?

"Thank you."

Kurt smiles weakly at the assurance that he could have the pick of the lot around the school. His head shakes and he exhales as his shoulders rise in a shrug. "Perhaps it is the thrill of the chase? It is the inner demon, perhaps." He pauses, then, "But I have no wish to be alone." And then there is the Church that declares abstinence is the way to go outside of wedlock. (Not that he's very good at that, either.)

That smirk, the one that simply holds little behind it, however, brings a shiver to his spine. "'Sweet of me, but'.." and he begins to slide off the edge of the desk, gaining his feet. "You were about to say, '..it was not necessary.'" Which translates out to him, 'thank you but no thank you' and 'don't waste your time'.

"Und no, I don't think she was homeless. Scott remembered her her from her old days here. You see, she was here und gone long before I ever arrived from Germany."

Good lord, this is already getting to be a right mess. Dom quickly empties the contents of her glass and sets it aside with a *thunk,* pushing her feet off of the desk so she can lean forward after you, closing the gap created when you drop back to the floor. "But you -confuse- me, Kurt. Random acts of gift-giving usually implies some level of interest that one wishes to be reciprocated. Flowers lead to kisses, movie nights, dates, commitments."

You -watched her sleep!- The other topic can wait for a moment.

"You tell me that you're not looking for love so I don't have to address that issue, yet your actions are -really- suggesting otherwise. You don't offer this treatment to every girl you find attractive in this building. Are you trying to save me from my wicked ways? Maybe you feel like I need a hug more than the next? What's your deal?"

Then, completely against her initial reaction, she leans back while holding an empty palm out toward you. "I'm not trying to tell you to kiss off. You're a good kid. I just..." Shit, this is tough. "I don't want to be the reason for you getting hurt."

Your presence very near brings Kurt up short, and yellow eyes look into her own, searching for that truth perhaps that lies within him. And the answers he's coming up with aren't the best, under the circumstances.

"I am interested, leibchen," he murmurs. "For more than one reason, und to be honest, part of it is to prove to myself that I am worthy." Kurt shakes his head and he chuckles, the sound forced. "Not everyone gets a rose while they are sleeping, nein. Though, they do get the offer to train in the Danger Room, to work out moves.. und once or twice, on the boat." He is a flirt, after all. It's a matter of follow-through that may or may not come.

"You need a hug as much as I. You have been the one to whom I have confessed.. feelings into words," Like his feeling of jubilation being in Limbo. That part of him that reveled in the darkness. "Or perhaps I do this because I know I will be turned down." He chuffs another quiet, humourless chuckle, and shrugs. "In that case, there is no fear of my being hurt."

But.. kid? You called him a kid? There.. his tail droops.

"If I am ever hurt, liebchen, it is not of your doing. It is ever my own. That I was not good enough."

There's a point in time where one realizes that anything else they can possibly say will only make a situation worse. The drooping of your tail is, of course, noticed. Domino gives a dismissive wave of her hand, the one with the pistol still occupying it. "I use that word with everyone." Don't take it personally. If she wanted to undercut you with words there are thousands of other tools for such a job, and they would leave nothing to question as to their intention.

"Listen to yourself, Blue," she practically instructs while gently setting that one errant weapon down in front of herself. Not aimed at you. "You're doing this as a means of proving yourself as being worthy, and yet you're expecting to be turned down. Do you even realize that you're setting yourself up for failure?" She gives the question a moment to sink in before continuing. "Why are you trying to hurt yourself, Kurt? Is your dark side trying to take over, undercut all of your beliefs, purity and spirituality because it found someone else that could relate? Darkness begetting darkness, and all that crap? I'm part of a very insignificant minority around this place, it practically defies any sense of logic that you would seek my company rather than that of someone which can connect with you upon your chosen path."

Or..wait. Maybe she's looking at this from the wrong angle. Again her head angles to the side, turning away slightly without breaking eye contact. "Or is it that you believe if you can save me then you can save yourself."

There honestly isn't anything worse than being called 'kid' in his eyes at the moment. It's a distancing, a diminuative. Crudities, he could handle. Casting aspersions against the Church, he could defend. This, however.. even when explains it, it's with that dismissive gesture.

Still, that's long past, even if it was simply seconds before. Now, it's that intuitive leap that you make that even he couldn't make. He rolls his head forward, and shakes his head slowly, now not wanting to keep your gaze. He takes that moment before he straightens, his tail moving towards a more.. natural position. "I'm glad, at least, that you do not mock me for trying to save the world, one soul at a time." Which has probably been lobbed at him, more than once. "But, I cannot explain why it is what I do," and he now levels those yellow eyes to meet your gaze again. He chuckles, and there simply isn't any mirth to be found. "The only people like me are my daughter from another dimension, und my mother." And even then, in one case, it's only in 'looks'.

"I do not seek to 'save' you.. or perhaps I do." Kurt scritches at his arm once again, and he shrugs, though there's nothing dismissive about the gesture. "But, I know that I am willing to admit that I would like to take you to dinner, a movie."

Too late. The damage has already been done. This time, Dom's left with the guilt. All that she can think to do is move the one glass and the capped bottle of rum further across the table in offering. This isn't how conversations are supposed to go when a white rose happens to be involved.

"Why would I mock you for having such good intentions? You're the glue that holds this place together, Blue. That drive of yours managed to get through to me, even. You can take pride in knowing that you've succeeded there as quickly as you have. But, it's because of it that I have to keep turning you down."

And she'd much rather dislocate one of her fingers than continue with this conversation.

"I'm not going to be responsible for tearing the heart and soul out of this group. I'm not a dinner and movie kind of woman. A 'date' for me involves..breaking a minimum of six laws and causing at least two thousand dollars' worth of property damage," she struggles with an irritated flick of a hand. "Maybe I could learn to settle down for a time but I'm always going to return to my old habits."

Another pause, fighting to reinforce her mind. "I'm just not good for you. Either I would slowly corrupt you and bring your darkness out of its cage or ..I'd leave you in much worse shape than you already are."

If she lets up on her defenses it'll only encourage you, give you the wrong impression. Her only solution seems to be the same one that she always uses. Reset the traps, then crawl back into hiding.

Kurt shakes his head at the silent offering of the rum, though that's exactly what he'd like to do. No, it's not how it's supposed to go, and he realizes that he still has the flower in hand. He sets it down carefully on the desk, and takes that deep breath again.

"If it means anything liebchen," one who is loved, "I do not take the credit for that. I would prefer to believe that somewhere in there," and he points to that spot where your heart is, "there beats the heart of someone who truly knows what is right und wrong."

There is that moment where he looks almost convinced that perhaps there isn't anything that can be done, and he offers a sad smile. "You have helped me as well.. und taught me a few things."

Kurt straightens, trying to shore himself up. Those glowing yellow eyes look.. sad, though he has that understanding soul. "My corruption is complete, leibchen. It is the sinner that seeks God's grace so desperately, und I am far from perfect." He pauses, and if he was going to say something else, he stops himself. Instead, he runs a hand through his hair, and takes a step back, "But, it is my offer to take you with out with me." From that darkness and corruption.

Still, Kurt knows that that answer'll be 'no' once again, and another deep breath is taken, and he makes an attempt at a lopsided smile. Any who know the blue fuzzy elf, however, would know that it's decidedly forced. "Come spring, I will still expect you to sail with me."

"It is possible to be a killer and still know the difference, Kurt," Domino says on a near-whisper soft tone. "If there was nothing good in me then I would not be in this place. They would have never let me see the front gates."

There was no goodness in her heart then she could never live with herself, either. She's just not ..just less afraid to do those things that sometimes have to be done, and more lax in offering lighter judgement upon those whom have done wrong on others. A sledgehammer in a world of ball peens and Brad nails.

Hearing that she's taught you a few things is a small consolation at a moment like this. Helped you, but at what ultimate cost?

This time she can't even give you a 'yes' or 'no' in response. She chooses silence instead, allowing you to say your next piece. That one she can answer honestly, though part of her already wonders if that, too, would only further encourage you with this sort of behavior. "Ich werde da sein." //I will be there.//

Now, that right there is worse. To know the difference and still be willing to do such a thing. Kurt's tail is low, and nodding his head, sounds.. sad. "Und rufen-sie wenn du mich brauchst, bitte sehr." //And call me if you need me, please.// The young german inclines his head in a hint of a bow, and when he looks back up, he takes a deep breath, leaving behind..


 * bamf*

For a moment, Domino says nothing. You're already gone, the only one left to speak to is herself.

Without looking at the table she grabs one of her unloaded pistols, fingers curling around it until her joints start to ache. Her jaw tenses, her shoulders bunch together, her breath gets held, then the weapon's slide slams home with an almost piercing metallic *CLAK!*

Hands and weapon alike come up to her forehead, supporting herself. All she can think to do is whisper a heart-felt curse under her breath, drop the pistol back onto the desk, then reach for the bottle and glass once more.