"I did hear that," he says, taking the cookie from him with small smile of thanks. "I would have offered to help Lark in the kitchens, but I don't think I'm very welcome around knives." He walks out into the hallway and closes the door behind him, locking it via the key around his neck.
"With scars like mine, I think they're more wary," he says, though there's a slight hesitation beforehand. He considers telling him about the knife in Zero, but either Ezio's already revealed it to the wardens or he hasn't, and he's not going to do the work for him.
He has no particular destination in mind to start, but quiet and peaceful to him means art, and he knows Warren leads has the keys to the gazebo, so that's his current destination.
"I'm not much for fighting with knives, though," he tells him, and that, at least, is honest.
"I'm not either. A knife? Is a tool for precision. Guns? You can be effective with a gun. Even if you don't know what the hell you're doing. But a knife? If you want to be effective with a knife, you need to think. And you need precision. And?" he grins, "you ask for two. Just in case of the unexpected. For that very reason."
He puts a hand to his chest. "That's all well and good, but that is what I'm trying to fix. Guns are fine for protection, but that's too much of a temptation for me. Knives are the same way, though I can achieve what I need by breaking the mirror in the inmate's bathroom. I'm not a fighter. Not really. I'm sometimes swept up in my own Wrath, but - " he chuckles softly. "Look where that's landed me."
He shakes his head as they make their way up the stairs. No reason to take the elevator and he prefers it.
"That's the way I felt about it too. Guns? Guns make things easy." And he'll walk almost half a hallway before he continues. "And Wrath. Anger, I usually stick to. It's deceptive. It only shows up hot for some people. For others? It burns so cold, you can't tell it from logic. Unless you know what to look for."
He glances over at John with sympathy. Genuine sympathy, if John's the sort who can tell.
"There are worse places to land. And worse situations. But I can't say I'd take nannying much better."
John doesn't mind the stairs and he takes them steadily, picking apart the cookie and eating it. "Hm, Wrath is only that way to some. But containing it like that, cover it and hold it until you need it? That's more productive."
He reaches the top and stretches. Takes a moment before he continues up again. "The nannying doesn't bother me as much as it did before. Zack is reasonable about it. He allows me a few hours in the evening to do as I wish. It could be worse and I'm glad it isn't."
"Oh," he says with a soft laugh to himself, "my Wrath made me very productive. I? Was an incredibly. productive. man. Lived for my work. For the mission."
He glances over at John, as if he's considering saying something, but for the moment, he doesn't. He'll just keep walking.
"Zack's a good kid. Sounded like you two had an interesting flood." He holds up a hand. "I'm not asking. Just commenting from what I heard. Your evening's yours with me too. Scout's honor."
The mention of the flood has him feeling something akin to shame, as much as John can actually experience it. Humiliation might be more like it, though he doesn't express any of it. He just maintains his aura of faint amusement.
"I believe you," he assures him. "I haven't been given any indication that you would go back on your word. That any of you would go back on your word."
"Haven't been given any indication we won't either," he says cheerfully, but he'll nod and accept it. It's just an acknowledgment. They're almost to the deck as he nods to the question.
"The big picture. The most important thing? In my life. At least, I thought it was. Until it turned out. It wasn't what I thought it was." A quick smile at John. "I still gave it twenty four- yeah, about twenty four years of my life."
He keeps walking.
"I had things I wanted to do, places I wanted to see, people I wanted to be with, and that's all... it's gone. didn't matter. Because that job, that mission, the 'big picture', the world I wanted to be a part of, that I wanted to build... it asked everything of me. It demanded that I give it every inch of my life." He sighs a little tiredly as he pulls out his keys. "And... I did."
John listens intently as they walk, hands in his pockets once the cookie is gone. He waits patiently for the door to be unlocked, raising his eyes a bit.
"And you were nothing," he says, but it isn't an idle observation. John knows.
"I used to call it 'the Artist Formerly Known as Warren Kepler'," he says as he unlocks the door and reaches in to turn on the light. Then he's letting John lead the way in.
"I was nothing. And there was no one better than me at what I did." His eyes are distant. Empty. It's something he has to pull up instead of the natural state of things like it used to be. "'Kill' for it? That was middle of the list."
He's watching, even as he walks in. He's watching, even when it seems like he's not. John might seem disinterested or distant, but he's sharp. Focused. Taking everything in at a glance. The chameleon, trying to blend where it suits him. And right now, it suits him to be quiet and peaceful.
He walks over to one of the tables, making a space for himself and starts to gather pencils and paper.
"I was just a lawyer, like I said," he says absently, settling into a chair. "But I had a knack for getting secrets. Anything I needed to win a case, I'd have. Judge sleeping with his assistant? He was mine in the morning. Senator embezzling money? Suddenly I had all the funding I needed. Sex. Drugs. Alcohol. Sin. It all circles back to that. I knew everyone's sins. I'd cut them open and the secrets would spill onto the floor."
But John was only good at that because he doesn't exist. Because he is who he has to be. Because he has no sense of self. The job didn't do it to him; he came that way after a long life of abuse.
Still, they're talking about work. He'll keep the topic about work.
And Warren? Just spent the last week or so being inside the mind, the skin, of the man who did it to him. Who convinced him that was the way to go. The path for him. The best route. The way to see his bigger picture realized, to change the world.
"I did that too. Think that came up the first time we talked. The being a lawyer? Part of... all of it. The law was the first path. The rest? Were if that didn't work."
He goes to the middle of the room.
"Place is your oyster today. I know... a lot of art. Craft. Music. You name it."
He nods. He remembers telling him about being a lawyer, but the rest? Fuck. He's getting sloppy. Still, Warren seems to be dealing with his own shit, so he doesn't mind.
"I can stay here a while," he assures him, making himself comfortable at the table with his pencils, pushing his sleeves up. "Until you need to go elsewhere. Like I said - peace and quiet is good. I don't need any adventures today. And unless they need me in custodial, I have nowhere I need to be."
Warren shakes his head and wanders over to some of the paper, grabs a few pencils, and takes up a spot where he can draw. He’s going to start sketching out what is clearly some sort of schematic, notes, a few other things. He doesn’t seem to be paying attention to John.
John doesn't have to be watched to feel watched. But he's not doing anything particularly nefarious at the moment. He's sketching out a rather large church by memory, so it's not as realistic as he might like, but he's a good artist and meticulous enough to make it recognizable. Warren might see it as Notre-Dame after a while if he takes a closer look, though it's the Notre-Dame of the 15th century.
Eventually, he sits back.
"You graduated, didn't you? Found your redemption?" He doesn't take his eyes off of his paper.
He considers that. Tilts his head back and forth. Frowns. Then nods.
"Admitting that choices I thought were objective were really subjective. That what felt cold. clear. logical. The only response to the world and all it's ugly. Stupid. Hateful. Selfish. Awfulness.
He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat and resists the thing he wants to say. "And that was the most difficult." he says. "Wrath, disguised as Logic." Recalling what they had discussed earlier.
"Wrath. Envy. Pride. A kind of Sloth, to be very honest."
He won't hide any of then. Won't pretend they're not a part, that he's above something like that. He isn't, and he wasn't, and he won't repeat that mistake.
"The anger I told you about. Covetousness, at the happiness. The wholeness. The chances people were handed. Chances I had to build from the ground up. Pay for with blood. Pride. The idea that my path was the best one. The right one. Enough to make other people pay. With their lives. Their blood. Their hopes. Their dreams. Their ambitions."
He looks over at John.
"And Sloth... because I left the decisions up to someone else. I followed... because that's? easier. When you believe in someone, in something, so much that you're nothing-
"Being someone. Living with it. That responsibility. I gave it up in tearing myself apart. In being 'nothing'."
John looks back down to his paper. Decides on something else and slides the Notre-Dame to the side. He doesn't have a model or any sort of reference, so he sketches to sketch as Warren talks. Lines that become form. The beginnings of a hand, just something to occupy his time.
When he looks up again, there's nothing but that faint amusement again. He's blank because he both is and isn't self aware enough to see the connections. He might be able to draw the same conclusions, but he has no willingness to change it. There's no drive to make it better.
So he goes back to sketching. "A secular viewing of sloth, but a creative one," he tells him softly. "And now? You're not nothing. Are you something?"
"Not secular," he says with a shake of his head, "because after all: who made me a person? Who gave me a life? And there I was, giving it up, making it less, taking my hand to His creation."
He doesn't talk about his own feelings on religion, spirituality, the universe and how it works.
To the question, though, he nods.
"I am. I'm something I never thought I'd ever be again."
"No, no. I mean the secular definition of Sloth itself," he says, but he doesn't protest it farther than that. He just stills his pencil for a moment, surprised at even the mention of a higher power. Most people avoid the subject, even if Warren's not speaking to his own thoughts.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2021-10-26 12:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-10-26 12:50 am (UTC)"I spent my entire time as an inmate with nothing but a pair of knives here. It was one of the first things I asked my warden for. A knife."
no subject
Date: 2021-10-26 12:58 am (UTC)He has no particular destination in mind to start, but quiet and peaceful to him means art, and he knows Warren leads has the keys to the gazebo, so that's his current destination.
"I'm not much for fighting with knives, though," he tells him, and that, at least, is honest.
no subject
Date: 2021-10-26 01:01 am (UTC)"I'm not either. A knife? Is a tool for precision. Guns? You can be effective with a gun. Even if you don't know what the hell you're doing. But a knife? If you want to be effective with a knife, you need to think. And you need precision. And?" he grins, "you ask for two. Just in case of the unexpected. For that very reason."
no subject
Date: 2021-10-26 01:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-10-26 01:31 am (UTC)"That's the way I felt about it too. Guns? Guns make things easy." And he'll walk almost half a hallway before he continues. "And Wrath. Anger, I usually stick to. It's deceptive. It only shows up hot for some people. For others? It burns so cold, you can't tell it from logic. Unless you know what to look for."
He glances over at John with sympathy. Genuine sympathy, if John's the sort who can tell.
"There are worse places to land. And worse situations. But I can't say I'd take nannying much better."
no subject
Date: 2021-10-26 01:45 am (UTC)He reaches the top and stretches. Takes a moment before he continues up again. "The nannying doesn't bother me as much as it did before. Zack is reasonable about it. He allows me a few hours in the evening to do as I wish. It could be worse and I'm glad it isn't."
no subject
Date: 2021-10-26 01:48 am (UTC)He glances over at John, as if he's considering saying something, but for the moment, he doesn't. He'll just keep walking.
"Zack's a good kid. Sounded like you two had an interesting flood." He holds up a hand. "I'm not asking. Just commenting from what I heard. Your evening's yours with me too. Scout's honor."
no subject
Date: 2021-10-26 02:37 am (UTC)"I believe you," he assures him. "I haven't been given any indication that you would go back on your word. That any of you would go back on your word."
He takes the next set of steps. "Your mission?"
no subject
Date: 2021-10-26 02:46 am (UTC)"The big picture. The most important thing? In my life. At least, I thought it was. Until it turned out. It wasn't what I thought it was." A quick smile at John. "I still gave it twenty four- yeah, about twenty four years of my life."
He keeps walking.
"I had things I wanted to do, places I wanted to see, people I wanted to be with, and that's all... it's gone. didn't matter. Because that job, that mission, the 'big picture', the world I wanted to be a part of, that I wanted to build... it asked everything of me. It demanded that I give it every inch of my life." He sighs a little tiredly as he pulls out his keys. "And... I did."
no subject
Date: 2021-10-26 02:58 am (UTC)"And you were nothing," he says, but it isn't an idle observation. John knows.
no subject
Date: 2021-10-26 03:03 am (UTC)"I used to call it 'the Artist Formerly Known as Warren Kepler'," he says as he unlocks the door and reaches in to turn on the light. Then he's letting John lead the way in.
"I was nothing. And there was no one better than me at what I did." His eyes are distant. Empty. It's something he has to pull up instead of the natural state of things like it used to be. "'Kill' for it? That was middle of the list."
no subject
Date: 2021-10-26 03:19 am (UTC)He walks over to one of the tables, making a space for himself and starts to gather pencils and paper.
"I was just a lawyer, like I said," he says absently, settling into a chair. "But I had a knack for getting secrets. Anything I needed to win a case, I'd have. Judge sleeping with his assistant? He was mine in the morning. Senator embezzling money? Suddenly I had all the funding I needed. Sex. Drugs. Alcohol. Sin. It all circles back to that. I knew everyone's sins. I'd cut them open and the secrets would spill onto the floor."
But John was only good at that because he doesn't exist. Because he is who he has to be. Because he has no sense of self. The job didn't do it to him; he came that way after a long life of abuse.
Still, they're talking about work. He'll keep the topic about work.
no subject
Date: 2021-10-26 04:04 am (UTC)Warren's been.
And Warren? Just spent the last week or so being inside the mind, the skin, of the man who did it to him. Who convinced him that was the way to go. The path for him. The best route. The way to see his bigger picture realized, to change the world.
"I did that too. Think that came up the first time we talked. The being a lawyer? Part of... all of it. The law was the first path. The rest? Were if that didn't work."
He goes to the middle of the room.
"Place is your oyster today. I know... a lot of art. Craft. Music. You name it."
no subject
Date: 2021-10-26 11:34 am (UTC)"I can stay here a while," he assures him, making himself comfortable at the table with his pencils, pushing his sleeves up. "Until you need to go elsewhere. Like I said - peace and quiet is good. I don't need any adventures today. And unless they need me in custodial, I have nowhere I need to be."
no subject
Date: 2021-10-26 04:03 pm (UTC)He doesn’t expect John to believe that.
no subject
Date: 2021-10-26 09:57 pm (UTC)Eventually, he sits back.
"You graduated, didn't you? Found your redemption?" He doesn't take his eyes off of his paper.
no subject
Date: 2021-10-26 10:05 pm (UTC)"I did. Not that long ago. Though. It feels like it's been longer some days."
Usually when he's angry and wants to do something stupid and knows that now, it's his responsibility not to.
"And I'm happy to talk about it. Deep as it goes."
no subject
Date: 2021-10-26 10:52 pm (UTC)"What was the most difficult piece?" he wonders.
no subject
Date: 2021-10-27 01:10 am (UTC)"Admitting that choices I thought were objective were really subjective. That what felt cold. clear. logical. The only response to the world and all it's ugly. Stupid. Hateful. Selfish. Awfulness.
"Wasn't. It's just the choice I made."
no subject
Date: 2021-10-27 01:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-10-27 01:38 am (UTC)He won't hide any of then. Won't pretend they're not a part, that he's above something like that. He isn't, and he wasn't, and he won't repeat that mistake.
"The anger I told you about. Covetousness, at the happiness. The wholeness. The chances people were handed. Chances I had to build from the ground up. Pay for with blood. Pride. The idea that my path was the best one. The right one. Enough to make other people pay. With their lives. Their blood. Their hopes. Their dreams. Their ambitions."
He looks over at John.
"And Sloth... because I left the decisions up to someone else. I followed... because that's? easier. When you believe in someone, in something, so much that you're nothing-
"Being someone. Living with it. That responsibility. I gave it up in tearing myself apart. In being 'nothing'."
no subject
Date: 2021-10-27 01:46 am (UTC)When he looks up again, there's nothing but that faint amusement again. He's blank because he both is and isn't self aware enough to see the connections. He might be able to draw the same conclusions, but he has no willingness to change it. There's no drive to make it better.
So he goes back to sketching. "A secular viewing of sloth, but a creative one," he tells him softly. "And now? You're not nothing. Are you something?"
no subject
Date: 2021-10-27 01:54 am (UTC)He doesn't talk about his own feelings on religion, spirituality, the universe and how it works.
To the question, though, he nods.
"I am. I'm something I never thought I'd ever be again."
no subject
Date: 2021-10-27 02:05 am (UTC)"An interesting redemption."
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