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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[americasdirtiest]

[He pauses, looking up at Cassel, at the brilliant smile suddenly overtaking his face, and something in his chest unknots a little bit. He's not sure what it was he said now that was any different from what he said before, but he somehow believes that smile in a way he didn't believe Cassel's bullshit smirking from before.

Thank God, he thinks -- at least he's done something right today. He doesn't really smile back the way Cassel does, but there's a flicker of something across his face that echoes the relief in his heart.]

'kay. Well.

[He hovers for a second, wordless, then raises the back of his hand to indicate the freshly-bleeding cuts again.]

I should...

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[patheticvillain]

[Cassel's starting to get that Mickey doesn't react the same way he does to things. Not everyone is a mirror of Cassel's heart, and Mickey isn't a replacement for Zane, who understood him effortlessly. This is different. He has to work at this, they both do, to understand each other and to make each other feel safe.]

[But maybe that's better, in a way. Having to work harder, it feels more rewarding in the end when they finally get there.]

[He wants to reach out and brush his fingers against the back of Mickey's hand, I'm here, I'm not going anywhere, but he doesn't - because Mickey wouldn't want it. So he just curls up small and content on the bench, knees tucked up under him.]

Go get cleaned up. I'll see you later.