thewebspinner:

mistersmoran:

[Sebastian is practiced. More than anything it is simply experience that helps him weather and understand Jim’s moods. So it’s not the yelling or screaming that worries him, not when Jim throws dishes at him. Those are merely effects of boredom and irritation.

It’s the silence that scares him. Nobody has ever embodied the expression ‘still water runs deep’ like Jim and there’s nothing worse than the stoney emptiness on his face.

And he’s the cause for that.

He’d like to remind Jim that the man left him behind, let him think he was dead for weeks, that they were fucked up, that he’d been more fucked up then ever, that of course he’d attach himself to something just to survive, but what good will that do? And he should have seen it coming, really he should have. The last time he’d gone to see that other Moriarty, his Jim had nearly killed himself coming down from his meth high. And as much as he took it out on the- now dead- man that had drugged Jim in the first place, he knew he should have been there.

That, at least, is not a mistake he intends to make this time around.]

Sorry. No.

[The person was wrong, though. He will survive, if Sebastian walked. Of course he would, his heart wouldn’t simply stop beating. He wouldn’t throw himself into a howling rage and commit suicide. He was used to this sort of thing, forced to endure it when he was younger, yes, it would hurt be inconvenient, but he’d get over it. Mostly. Maybe.

It isn’t something unexpected, after all. That doesn’t help though, doesn’t quell the helpless, useless anger, doesn’t extinguish the itching in his hands, doesn’t feel like the ice-cold hole in the pit of his stomach that he can’t quite put a name to, the one that makes him feel as though he might be physically sick, the one that feels like something’s clawed out his insides and left ragged, bloody gouges in its wake.

Maybe he doesn’t understand, can’t, won’t ever understand. He’s different, that’s the point, has always been the point.

But he doesn’t say anything after that, just turns away from Sebastian, onto his side, and remains in icy silence, giving nothing but a slight shrug of his shoulder.]

[That’s fine. He can deal with silence. Not as well as he can deal with Jim’s anger, because then all he has to do is be angry back until they’re both beaten and bloody and most likely shagged-out as well, but he can.

Sebastian Moran is an assassin with a rifle and a goddamn first-class one at that, and most of a sniper’s job is waiting. So he will, he does, sets himself down in the armchair and says nothing. He doesn’t sleep or read or start tapping rhythms on his leg but merely waits. For exactly what, he’s not certain, but he will until it comes. ]