week two, sunday

[moraled]

[Post-execution.

The death of Higekiri isn't surprising, but it is wrong. Higekiri shielded a murderer. For that, he should have been punished, yes.

By death?

Not likely.

Barnham scowls, stalking away from the scene immediately. He'll be off to the side of one of the buildings, leaning against it with his arms crossed. He needs a moment to go take a breather and get over this total and complete disregard for justice and what is Right.

JUSTICE HAS NOT BEEN DONE.]

Comments

[tightly]

[ You stupid man, she thinks, and wishes she could say, and is glad she can't say. The hotblooded little thought comes and goes quick enough that she would have regretted expressing it if she had a voice to do so with. He will shout and bluster and stamp his feet, and he will die because of it, and Chane won't be able to keep the whimsical promise she made only because she misses Jacuzzi ( -- and that itself is bizarre; twenty years to detach from humanity and only a few to regain it).

Well and, that's fine.

It's...




- it's fine.

Chane stands back up, trying to look certain and stoic but failing somewhat. In fact, for the first time, she looks as small as she is, like a young woman who wants to say so much but can't.

Any second now, that'll go away and she'll be herself again.

Really, any moment.

... In a few minutes? ]

[moraled]

[... That's certainly an expression on her face. He's quiet for a long moment, head slightly tilted, analyzing that look--and then, softly, he sighs, and nods.

He understand, he thinks. As far as he can, because really--]

I am not so foolish, nor so self-absorbed as to think I am the only one who wishes to end this game.

[It'd be ridiculous; he knows everyone is working hard to do just that. And he is glad that they are doing so subtly, with all of the caution they can muster.

But.]

I cannot sacrifice my duty for the sake of safety. To do so would be a betrayal to my own morals that I could not tolerate. [Even if it gets him killed.] I can ask only for your understanding, Madam Walken.

[tightly]

... [ Understanding.

All the understanding in the world will mean nothing to him when he is dead. And yet, if that's what he wants... She can't find it in herself to gainsay his wishes when he's being so clear. She has no power to convince him of anything, Chane gets that.

So, simply, she nods. Composure is regained in increments, lending colour back to her face. ]

[moraled]

[He can't apologize for being himself--but for some strange, crazy moment, he almost feels the need to apologize for hurting her.

Which is ridiculous. She has no reason to care so much if he gets his fool self killed, right?]

... It is appreciated. I fear I have done a poor job in repaying your concern for me.

[He can admit that much.]

[tightly]

[ He may mean well, he may have the best and noblest of intentions, but that's the last thing she wants to hear from him right now. Her expression indicates as much, twisting into a muted scowl. ]

...

[ Ultimately, Chane leaves him where he is, tucked between the buildings, alone with his own crushing and misguided sense of justice. ]