A Little Less Taking Cover, A Little More Taking Revenge

3:I've Got Limited Time And Bad Decisive Skills That Says We Should Go(The Plan)

The more I see of Ryan's creepy interior design, the more I'm convinced that he's crazy: who the hell hangs tapestries on an industrial drywall? Equally strange in taste (though slightly more disconcerting) is the large, ornamental taxidermy bear standing in the corner of the room in which I now stand. Its cold, lifeless eyes are frozen in an eternal moment of visceral horror, and it wouldn't normally leave me this unsettled except...

Except Ryan.

An equally cold set of eyes follow me as I shuffle further into the room, following my fellow vampire into his so-called 'study,' but mainly just moving away from the stuffed spectacle in the left-hand corner. The study itself is strange, more like an interrogation room— although I'm starting to think that 'strange' might just be a relative normal here. Patrick would probably laugh at how awkwardly I'm acting right now— he says I overthink everything. I miss his laugh.

"You caught in a reverie or are we actually gonna form a plan here?" I snap back to the current moment to see Ryan standing behind a large, wooden desk, which takes up most of the space in the contrastingly artificial-looking room. He's got one eyebrow raised questioningly, though it's mocking enough to imply a rhetorical. Smug fucker.

Returning his look with an equally sneery equivalent, I make my way behind the desk. The sooner we get to Beckett, the sooner I get to Patrick, Joe and Andy. The sooner I get to them, the sooner I can finally say bon voyage to this arrogant prick.

"So," he calls out, clapping his hands together as the orange flecks in his eyes brighten with excitement, "Here's what I've got so far..." I lean closer to the table as he rolls out a scruffy, old city map onto it, although it's not like I understand his supposed 'plan' any better. The giant relic is covered in smudged, inky markings which, upon closer examination, appear to be some form of messy cursive. Now that takes me back. I have absolutely no idea why they try to teach it in grade school though; fuck if I remember how it works. It's not even like it's easy to read— all those fucking loops and swirls— it's the most impractical waste of fucking time. I'm immortal and I still consider it a waste of my life.

Pretentious handwriting aside, Ryan's plan actually seems to be fairly decent. Go figure. He knows his stuff, at least— there's a few hidden alleyways and underground networks marked on the map that even I didn't know about. Overall though, it's nothing special: his grand scheme equates to 'sneak round the guards and fight him two on one,' which, don't get me wrong, seems a good idea, it's just not exactly like I couldn't have come up with it myself.

Unfortunately, I must let this show, as he turns to me, affronted with my reaction. "Well, you're a little lacklustre," he notes sourly, his eyes rolling to face the top hand corner of the room, and— really— it's such a sassy, feminine gesture that I can't help but snigger. This only succeeds in pissing him off more, causing Ryan to provoke me with a mutter of "what's your stupid idea, then?" Still, I can hear something of a smile in his tone, so I guess he's only faking his annoyance with me.

Wow, I guess we're on joking terms now. I allow the grin tugging at my features to finally show, and when our eyes meet, he's smiling back at me. "I thought we'd just ask him to drink holy water," I joke, and Ryan's eyes scrunch up as his head rolls back a little with silent laughter, "Of course," he returns, "cause that'll totally work." I nod.

"Because we'll ask nicely."

It's weird how quickly I've grown accustomed to being stuck with Ryan. Not that I'd consider him a friend or anything yet. He's annoyingly powerful, and sometimes he has this fucking look on his face like he knows it all, and I just have to remind myself that I'm using him. I'm doing this for Patrick.