fifty-three ➢ video

[patheticvillain]

[Cassel's in his room, rearranging his drawer of scraps in some order discernible only to him. Ilia is perched on a high shelf, his eyes narrowed and tail twitching, disturbed by the commotion and looking ready to jump down onto Cassel's shoulders at any moment. As he rummages, Cassel addresses the camera; the moment he turns towards it, a bruise slides into view on his left temple, light and mottled black. He seems not to notice it.]

A few things. First of all, if anybody who's not all Admiral-ed up has a problem with the power outages, I think - I think I can make flashlights and lamps that don't need to be powered. [He's speaking specifically to Morgana here, but he doesn't know everybody's hangups, either, so he's leaving it open to the Barge as a whole.]

Second of all, has anybody actually gotten anywhere with the ship? Steering it or anything? Because this seems like it's getting kind of. Critical. [As Dean so astutely pointed out.]

Last thing - I know nobody cares right now, but we still need staff for the gym. At least one more person. If you feel like going slightly less stir-crazy while we're marooned in the middle of nowhere, apply now.

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[patheticvillain]

Now? I need a lunch break anyway.

[formerself]

Can do.

-- oh, wait, shit. Is anyone gonna care if I bring my dog? He'll stay out the way, won't get under nobody's feet.

[This is a promise. His dog is tiny and awful but he's well-trained.]

[patheticvillain]

Depends. What's his name?

[The most poker of faces.]

[formerself]

...he's called JB.

[why is this a question Cassel]

[patheticvillain]

Okay, then he can come. If he had a shitty name I wouldn't let him in.

[Secret gym rule.]

[formerself]

[That is a weird rule but. Okay?]

Thanks. Give us ten minutes.

[And in ten minutes he will indeed show up with his pug. He's actually a frequent flyer at the gym - shows up for at least an hour a day, usually more, plus regular sparring with Ricki and fencing lessons with Morgana - so this won't represent that much of a disruption to his schedule.]

[patheticvillain]

[In fact, Cassel recognizes him better in person than he does over the network - he's 'that guy who comes in at this time,' not Eggsy whatever, and Cassel rushes over to him, all bright smirking and enthusiasm.]

Hi, JB! [He wrinkles his nose at the pug in the same way he's accustomed to with Bowie, cocks his head at Eggsy.] Your dog's cuter than you.

[formerself]

[JB perks at the sound of his name and takes a couple of waddling steps in Cassel's direction in the hope of petting, which Eggsy considers a minor personal betrayal but doesn't try to stop.]

Yeah? [He cocks his head at the exact same angle, in the other direction.] Cuter than you an' all. You got a storecupboard or anythin' I need to know about?

[patheticvillain]

[He lets this roll off, for one thing because it's patently true despite his legendary cheekbones, and squats down to scratch JB between the ears. Oojaboo.]

Yeah, I'll show you where it is. There's nothing really in there, but we have to have something with a key to it, you know, for appearance's sake. Nobody kicks up too much of a fight in the gym, at least not while I've been here. Fingers crossed.

[formerself]

[He watches for a moment as JB leans into the scratching, then glances back to Cassel and smirks.]

Yeah, I'll try not to let the place get too fucked up. 'Least not on your lunch break.

[patheticvillain]

You're the best evil henchman a guy could ask for.

[He gives JB one final pat and stands up, stretching, popping his shoulder joint with a wince.]

What shift can you take? I don't really give a shit which one I'm doing as long as it's not midnight, and I'd need you to be, like, a shift manager or whatever. [This is his first real job, give him a break.]

[formerself]

[Eggsy frowns deeply at that sound.]

Not fussed. I can take the evenin' shift if that's easier.

[...but really now.]

And mate, your shoulders ain't meant to make that noise.

[patheticvillain]

Oh yeah? Are you a shoulderologist or something?

[No, really, he knows, it's fine. Just tired.]

Evening works. You meet T'Pol yet? It seems like she wants to do nights.

[formerself]

[He is not a shoulderologist. But if he was going to be asking questions he'd start with the bruise on his temple, and since they're still barely more than strangers, he figures that's Cassel's business.]

I don't think so. [A pause.] T'Pol? Am I sayin' that right?

[Approximately yes, but the implicit question is what kind of a name is T'Pol.]

[patheticvillain]

I think that's right.

[He could totally be cussing in Vulcan and not know it, though. Languages have never been his strong suit.]

She's an alien, I think? Kind of stiff and . . . [A little scary? A little scary.] Not somebody to mess with, probably. Unless she messes with you first.

[formerself]

[Eggsy nods. 'Don't mess with people until they mess with you first' is pretty much the code he lives by, so, he can manage that.]

Alright. Don't punch Mickey, don't mess with T'Pol. Can do.

[patheticvillain]

And those are pretty much the only rules.

[He grins, shaking his hair out of his face.]

So what's your deal, anyway? Why do you wanna work here?

[In the gym, on the Barge - pick your poison.]

[formerself]

[Not unpredictably, he chooses the former.]

Where else'm I gonna go? Can't cook, not a doctor, not a librarian. But I know my way 'round all this.

[patheticvillain]

[Yeah, Cassel's not terrifically surprised. His eyes wander back to JB, for something to look at.]

I didn't before I got here. But it's a good way to not be doing nothing.

[formerself]

No shit. So how come you ended up workin' here?

[And he does specifically mean 'in the gym, if you didn't know anything about gym equipment' because broader questions about why people are on the Barge seems to be one of those things you don't ask.]

[patheticvillain]

My warden wanted me working. He worked in the gym. So I did too.

[Cassel shrugs. It's not a terrific story; it was more a matter of convenience. But he's gotten so used to it that he can't imagine doing a different job.]

[formerself]

Oh, you was an inmate?

[He gives him a curious headtilt.]

Lot of people stick around, don't they.

[patheticvillain]

[Another shrug. He never thought of doing anything else, truly.]

People with nowhere else to go.

[formerself]

[Eggsy makes a noise that's half bemused and half concerned.]

So what, you're gonna be here forever?

[patheticvillain]

[Man, he is getting sick of this question. It seems to be everywhere lately. A flash of irritation across his face, and then he disguises it with a smirk.]

Maybe. Maybe not. [He waggles his fingers.] Who can tell what the future may hold?