"C'mon, just wants a handprint on the door," V relented, being serious now as he looked up from the note and watched Alec do the teenager thing. He wasn't really expecting the absolutely serious finality that Alec had given in response, as if a blood sacrifice was something that he was used to. It was enough that V wasn't sure if he was returning the joke in the same sort of flat response as a mirror.
As Alec fished his new (awful) phone out and started messing with it, V re-read the note one more time just to triple-check it, glancing up at the question of service. His eyes unfocused in the automatic habit he'd formed when he was calling on his system to throw something into his vision, though his eyes automatically trailed back down to the note. Nothing happened, and he tried again - probably looking stupid at the way he was just sort of staring into the middle distance of a piece of paper - with traces of confusion settling on his features.
His focus returned and his gaze meandered to his thumb, holding the paper, and his eyes narrowed a little as he began to realize why he didn't feel right, why his arms felt so light compared to what he was used to. Why his face hadn't felt quite right earlier, not that he'd paid too much attention to it, possibly why his eyes weren't working the way they should. Would explain why his Agent was unresponsive and he didn't have her nattering in his head, too. He pushed the thought away for now, writing it off, again, as just some final death throe of a man who'd soon be nothing.
He lingered on it only a moment before he slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and the hand holding the note fell to his side. V found the same awful corporate-approved beige brick in his pocket - explained why that pocket felt so heavy when all that should have been in there was a cigarette case - and he took a moment to flick through it and check apps, contacts, if he could call someone. None of it was familiar to him and the calls failed for him.
"No service. Don't think we'll have any 'til we appease the door and get out."
in ur defense reading is hard cryinghowie
As Alec fished his new (awful) phone out and started messing with it, V re-read the note one more time just to triple-check it, glancing up at the question of service. His eyes unfocused in the automatic habit he'd formed when he was calling on his system to throw something into his vision, though his eyes automatically trailed back down to the note. Nothing happened, and he tried again - probably looking stupid at the way he was just sort of staring into the middle distance of a piece of paper - with traces of confusion settling on his features.
His focus returned and his gaze meandered to his thumb, holding the paper, and his eyes narrowed a little as he began to realize why he didn't feel right, why his arms felt so light compared to what he was used to. Why his face hadn't felt quite right earlier, not that he'd paid too much attention to it, possibly why his eyes weren't working the way they should. Would explain why his Agent was unresponsive and he didn't have her nattering in his head, too. He pushed the thought away for now, writing it off, again, as just some final death throe of a man who'd soon be nothing.
He lingered on it only a moment before he slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and the hand holding the note fell to his side. V found the same awful corporate-approved beige brick in his pocket - explained why that pocket felt so heavy when all that should have been in there was a cigarette case - and he took a moment to flick through it and check apps, contacts, if he could call someone. None of it was familiar to him and the calls failed for him.
"No service. Don't think we'll have any 'til we appease the door and get out."