‘ carving or biting, we bleed for keeps. ’

[corxner]



† 𝖄𝖊𝖙 𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚 𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝕱𝖆𝖚𝖘𝖙𝖚𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖆 𝕸𝖆𝖓 †

private & selective RP blog for original character: 𝐅𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐄. 𝐌𝐚𝐱𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥, a man haunted by his past. Inherited something that has burrowed deeper than marrow, and flowed thicker than blood.

† 𝕺𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖓: @𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐝𝐫



⚰️† 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐭 †: proceed with caution, please check 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 for notes.



† 𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖘: hannibal nbc, the magnus archives, resident evil.

[il-mostrc]

Out of the kindness of his heart. Hannibal would have had a silent laugh at that. There was no kindness in his heart for this town, though he did feel attuned to the woods. The people here were just empty shells to him, something he could feed on if he grew insatiable. Human flesh was the most tender, the taste being the most seductive when it came to comparisons to the animals of the forest. He masked it well; he addressed his neighbors with politeness. At the market he remembered wives’ names and the names of their children. He brought preserves to funerals. They praised his name and his cooking.

His person suit was well stitched. Many would regard him as a friend, a great asset to the community. In a way, he looked into that as true. The unruly, the ones that caused trouble within the walls went into the woods to never return. The townsfolk shrugged at the empty chairs. The trash took itself out, they said, and Hannibal would nod along with the rest of them.

When the door opened and Hannibal saw Faust, his eyebrows rose for only a millisecond before his face arranged itself back into its customary warmth.“Hello, welcome. Come inside.” He gestured for the young man to walk through the threshold. The office held it’s own charm, artifacts on the walls, bookshelves, a smaller table with his sketches. The room had a woodsy appeal to blend with the characteristics of the town. Two chairs had settled in the middle.

Above the fireplace, a stag carved from obsidian held the room’s attention; black and heavy and patient, the work of a local artist who had spent the better part of his life in the woods and had, some months ago, stopped coming out of them.

[corxner]

“Good afternoon, Doctor Lecter” simple. Polite. No excessive flattery, even if anywhere he went in town, people seemed to have at least some kind of praise to give when he asked about the only psychiatrist here. Doctors tend to be charming, with the way they hold themselves, the way the speak. Even if it's ridden in lies— the people wouldn't care. Not many enjoyed honesty or bluntness as much as they like flattery, after all. He could only hope that to a degree, this man in front of him could drop the act and be straightforward. Otherwise, he supposed he'd have to go without a doctor until he moved out.

The young man couldn't help but let his eyes observe every little thing he could pick up as he walked into the room. Curious, as always. His gaze ended up captivated by the obsidian stag. It reminded him of the creature. Perhaps they were connected connected? Was it something revered in this place? Do people worship it as he felt like he should?

He couldn't quite pin point what was about the older man that made him feel familiar either. Had he seen that face before? Or was it the scent? Too many questions. Too curious for his own good. He hid it well with his silence. If only eyes weren't windows to the soul...

“I'm Faust Maxwell,” he introduced himself while turning slightly to look at Hannibal now, not wanting to get too distracted. He could always ask about the carved stag later.

“I recently moved into town and needed a new psychiatrist. The townsfolk speak highly of you, doctor. I was hoping we could talk and see if you'd have time for another patient?”

[il-mostrc]

The woods had a way of swallowing people whole before they ever realized they were being consumed. One was always at risk when they went blindly into it. One of Hannibal’s favorite things to do was to confuse the other being, change up the scenery, twist the trees. Fear was intoxicating when it fumed from the pores. The sweat of it was different from any other kind: thinner, sharper, almost sweet. The meat, yes, had that quality too, that bright acidic edge he had developed a preference for. Hannibal turned his back on this man, unafraid of any consequences. He drew himself to his full height, the broad shelf of his shoulders blocking out what little light came through the pines, the great dark tines of his antlers scraping bark from the branches above. Still, the man’s heartbeat that Hannibal could feel in the soles of his feet through the ground did not quicken the way he had wanted.

The question turned him halfway around. His antlers caught briefly in the canopy before he cleared them with a slow tilt of his head and looked the man over. “Do you want to be eaten?” Hannibal isn’t sure if he’s ever been addressed with such a question so frankly. He felt something almost like amusement move through him, though he let none of it reach his face. He had a feeling that if Faust were to break such a sighting to the townsfolk, they would either laugh or take investment. There were hunters in the town, those with roots as deep as the trees. They knew of the rumors, though it had been some time since a creature like Hannibal had been sighted. They had not forgotten. Neither had he.

[corxner]

He couldn't predict the creature's next moves at all. But with the way it moved, it seemed that it had lost all interest in consuming him. It felt— sudden, out of place, like when a man fully prepared and ready to take a hit but no pain ever arrived. Felt almost— unsatisfactory.

The question lingered, did he want to be eaten?

No. Of course not. That would be silly, and go against literal human instincts of survival. But how could he not be curious as to why he was spared? It only made him ponder, and wanting to seek more answers out of the creature. The Stagman likely would regret letting this young man go when he eventually learn just how stubborn he was.

“No. Of course not” he murmured out finally.

...

That was just a few nights ago. Faust was still processing what had happened. He had moved to this town to be away from the chaos and sounds of the city— somewhere quieter, more peaceful to recover from the cases. Of course, as he was, it was impossible to not choose the town in which was shrouded in mysteries and fog. The tales and the disappearances caught his attention too much to pass the opportunity, and who could really blame him to try and not simply die of boredom?

He found his place it seemed. Good thing no one seemed to want to rent that house in town despite it's in good condition due to the... Circumstances. Good deal. He was even surprised to learn that there is a psychiatrist who lived and offered service here in this town, likely some doctor from a bigger city who moved to such a desolate place to have similar getaway to him. Or perhaps it was out of the goodness of his heart, wanting to offer help to those who couldn't afford driving hours to reach the big cities then back home for an hour session. So here he was, sitting in the waiting room, waiting to be called in.

Even now, he couldn't stop thinking about that majestic creature in the woods.

[airxn]

@corxner inquired — “i had it under control.”

" 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮? " Airin kicks the fresh corpse on the once-sanitized floor. " Because the sudden gargling screams of this guy when he charged you tells me otherwise. " He’s seen the notes—he’s walked through the prison in the basement twice every day—he knows what can go wrong, and what will go wrong. Faust is just lucky the mercenary was close by before he was the next one on the operating table.

" You shouldn’t be doing this shit on your own. " Airin continues, squatting down to poke the corpse with his pistol. " You can request my company, y’know? I’d be much better company than grinder food. "

[corxner]

“... I didn't want to bother you” He didn't like or get along with anyone else at the hospital due to his wariness and bitey nature. Nor did he had the care of energy to put on a mask and play pretend. But Airin is often terribly busy with everything else on his plate that the younger man didn't feel like he could ask for his time. Faust crossed his arms and looked at the corpse. He sighed — he'd have to call over cleaners for this mess.

“Dr. Gideon has shit ton of to do list for you every single day, I didn't think you'd have time to come keep me company”

[constrictdr]

“ It is very unprofessional you ask me to operate on you. For no reason at all, may I add ”

victor would disagree  -  and he does .  in silence .  as he removes his coat and jacket , now bare from the waist up for his assistant to watch .      “ is getting to know each other not reason enough ? ”      he turns to look at @corxner , smiling .  the doctor was being nothing but a tease .

“ come now .  i trust your skillset not to kill me .  i believe you'll be pleasantly surprised at the result . ”

or horrified ; if the grinder in the basement didn't phase the younger , then gideon's strange and barely human body would be nothing but a walk in the park .  he was already getting comfortable on the operating table , laying down and expecting the other to follow protocol before approaching to open him up .

[corxner]

“I doubt you can be killed, doctor” he sighed, realising that he won't be able to get out of this without getting his hands stained. Faust put on the medical gloves after retying his hair properly, making sure it will be out of the way and adjusting his glasses. “You probably don't need any anaesthesia” it wasn't really a question, mostly a fact observed by the younger man. He should probably have put on some kind of protection for his hair, mostly for hygiene reasons— but he honestly couldn't put that much care into this. This man won't die from a little bit of hair strands touching the open wound, he's sure of it. Perhaps this could be an experiment on its own.

“I hope you don't put every intern through this” Faust murmured with furrowed brows before picking up the right scalpels for the work, taking off the protective cover from the blades. Despite the amount of unorthodox practices here, everything is in high grades and qualities. You win some, you lose some it seemed. He made sure to clean the area, following the mark from Victor's chest to his abdomen, before pressing down the scalpel and cutting the man open with no anesthesia. His hands terribly steady and calm, making a flawless incision with attentive eyes.

[il-mostrc]

A pause. Hannibal is trying to register what he has just heard. Normally, this storyline followed something close to his own personal gains. He had fed on others, shaped them, watched them become something useful or something broken. “And yet, you come here not expecting the same outcome?” He knows that Faust can taste this irony. It follows almost the same vein. There is a laugh, a low one that rumbles just as much as his own voice.

“You walk into the jaws of another. Perhaps it is fate that you end it tonight.” The claw digs deeper, just at the base of the line. “I am curious to know how you survived this.” A mark like that should have been the last thing written on him. Hannibal withdraws the talon and eases back, studying the man. There would be no pleasure in a kill this easy, no texture to it. There is a scoff; he’s unsure why he’s bothering. Curious, if he has to put his finger on the pulse.

He didn’t have to kill him; he could take him into the middle of the dense forest and leave him there to survive on his own. The thought of playing with his food had gone out the window the moment Faust had spoken of his mentor nearly ending him. It would be a similar story and Hannibal wasn’t about being mundane.

No. This one will live.

[corxner]

Well, how could he have known that there was a man eating creature in the woods? But his self persavation was stronger than the want for him to be smug. Faust couldn't blame the taunt or the curiosity in the beast's tone, however, he himself was rather curious on how he was not yet dead— but to go through the horror of his neck being opened again? He would rather not. He's unsure just how much more luck he had left in him to not simply bleed to death.

He held his breath for a moment at the press, bracing for impact, only for rhe other to moved back entirely, leaving the young man rather... Confused. It took him a moment to speak again, olivine eyes bright and curious as he did. “Am I not worthy of a meal anymore?” he's still unsure if he should be grateful or worried that the Stagman had something else in mind to torment him.

What is it planning?

[corxner]

He’s done this often now. Roam the woods until Hannibal appears. One time, he clocked in at four hours before Hannibal finally emerged as if conjured from the darkness itself. "One day, you’ll truly get yourself lost in these woods. Do you expect me to announce myself every time you wander into the mists?”

“Well, so far you have been- haven't you?” those olivine eyes looked up towards the voice. The young man had gotten quite comfortable around the creature now, as if it was old friend. As if it wasn't threatening his life the first time they met. He often wondered if this was foolishness or bravery— but that didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

These very woods became familiar like any other ones he had spent enough time in. Confident in his skills to navigate it with the help with the marks he left on the trees with his knife- it became a second home where he would come to relax and get his mind off of things. And if he was lucky? He'd get to meet Hannibal again.

He never really sat still while waiting, either, likely foraging within the woods and collect edible fungi, roots and such to bring back home before sunrise, or perhaps cook them if the wait were to be long such as tonight. A cup of dandelion tea and some sauteed mushrooms with the wold garlic he had found. The fire was low by now but not nonexistent. Not enough to give warmth against the cold night surrounding them, however.

“What took you so long tonight? Busy hunting?”

[corxner]

cont. | @thxgrxmrexpxr

Faust knew that he was rather light compared to the mercenary, but the ease of which he was simply dragged and thrown into the vehicle was still quite a surprise. He wasn't harmed, of course, he wasn't that fragile. Sitting up, he fixed his glasses and looked out of the windows to look at the heavy rain, observing just what caused such a ruckus. Faust couldn't stop the flinch from showing from the surprise the lightning strikes being so close to them. He usually enjoyed them in the background while he worked or about to sleep, but them being basically a few steps away made his brows furrowed.

“Thanks,” he murmured, looking for anything to dry his face and hair from the rain water that soaked his hair. He found a bunch of clean napkins he had saved on his pockets, pulling some out to clean his face and glasses. He made sure to offer some to Hank.

“I suppose we're going to be stuck here for a while,” for that to be a tense and uncomfortable situation to be in, or one where they can relax and perhaps talk some more without eyes on them that would depend on the grumpy mercenary. “I got my kit with me. Any wounds you have for me to patch this time around while we're at it?”

[airxn]

@corxner inquired — “Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room?”

𝐀𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭— " If you’re thinking intellectually then no, I don’t think I’m smarter than every virologist here. " He most likely is due to his upbringing in Project W, but at least he got a decade of normalcy where teamwork in the labs was vital. Everyone has a part to play, and a voice to be heard. But…

" If we’re talking emotional intelligence… then yes, I’m absolutely more put together than every other infected within 20 meters of this facility. " With a sigh, he sinks back into the couch and crosses his ankles on the coffee table. His life is so hard dealing with people who are emotionally constipated.

" Do you know how many of my previous colleagues are dead because they thought they could be a god? None of their mother’s loved them enough… idioții. "

[corxner]

They were chilling in Faust's office, one he still couldn't believe he had been given so soon. He supposed he did pretty impressive work, either that or it's a way to bribe him to keep his mouth shut and work without asking. That's a good thing, be supposed. It made everything a bit easier for him. It still felt unreal to be sitting and chattering about to Airin so casually like this, though.

He huffed, sipping his boiling hot coffee while looking at the papers on his desk. “Doesn't take a lot to be emotionally intelligent more than the infected, let's be real,” with a few exceptions, of course, he knew that very well.

“That or they encourage their kids' ego a tad bit too much, I suppose. I take it for you to survive this long you didn't go through either scenarios?”

[il-mostrc]

Every scar held a story within and for once, he finds it curious how this human got it. It was the location of it, one which he had used far too many times to bleed out his victims. Perhaps this is why Faust does not tremble. He has already sat across the table from death and pushed back his chair first. “You’ve been marked,” Hannibal says, block pools for eyes tracing the scar’s ridge before a single claw extends to follow its path. Human flesh is so soft, so supple, so easy to tear. His own is tough by design, self-healing unless silver metal pierces it. “By whom and why?” The words do not so much leave his mouth as roll out from somewhere deep in his chest, a sound that empties the surrounding trees of birds.

He could soften it if he chose. He has done it before, let the rumble recede into something low and warm, a frequency that makes smaller creatures still rather than flee. The forest knows both versions of him and has organized itself accordingly: the deer that vanish at his footfall, the ravens that follow. To be feared is to be remembered. To be honored is to be necessary.

The creatures of the forest both fear him and honor him. It was a form of love; to be feared. There is fear; he can smell it. But it’s faint, not saturated, when usually meeting the strays that enter the forest. The Hunters smell the same way. Fear sharpens them. It does not slow them down.

[corxner]

Faust honestly didn't expect himself to still be here.

He shivered slightly when he felt that sharp, keratin traced over his throat. He thought he had gotten over it, that the years had dulled the senses, but his scar felt so tender tonight, under those watchful eyes and sharp claws. For a moment, he felt fear. But it didn't last long. Acceptance came faster. Practiced.

He thought he would have already been dead before the creature in front of him spoke, curiosity in its tone, about the very same mark he expected its claw to retrace, sink in deep and drawing crimson— rather than the gentle caress. It is a mark that many wouldn't be able to survive after, let alone have time to heal into a jagged scar. The fact he's still alive, and able to still speak with clarity in his voice— the creature wouldn't be the first one to question it.

“... My mentor,” Faust supposed if he's going to share any of the deepest trauma he had held so close to his heart- it will have to be here, where it'd likely be buried with him. “He wasn't happy with me. So I was supposed to become food and rations if he couldn't keep me”. It was funny, to the young man at the very least, that he survived from being eaten only to likely die the same way- just different circumstances.

He couldn't even be mad. There was no intentions here other than feeding and satisfy its hunger. Unlike whatever he had went through.

[airxn]

ft. @corxner & @constrictdr

[airxn]

" 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧, " yet it’s something he probably has too—with all the shit Project W subjected him to when he was younger. It’s either a blessing or a curse there’s some fog prohibiting those memories from resurfacing. It’s probably better to keep it buried.

His pen clicks, writing more notes. " I'll have to cross check my references for that again. Maybe get in touch with our direct contact.. " Whether anything Faust says is to be believed is yet to be seen. He’d faster believe he was tossed out to the ditch than being some name in a massive database.

As for his question, Airin chuckles, still not looking up from his notes. " Oh, I fucking hate it here. It’s not by choice, that’s for sure. " He leans back again, " Though, if you’re FBI then you’re certainly not here by choice either. Heard ya’ were a kidnapping case, dragut. "

[corxner]

“I like how it looks. White is a pretty color”

Faust didn't bother telling Airin that even if he were to go look in the right places, there won't be much to find about Faust. Everything looked too clean, not like an actual living person, but a character written to stay in the background with no spotlight on him. The only thing that would be most interesting about this man is simply working in forensics. And well— on top of that, getting kidnapped and now used as experiment in this damned Care Centre.

“I have a hunch that most people here aren't here by choice” he sighed, mostly at the situation he's in rather than at the older man himself. “I'm surprised that some came here willingly at first, as if this place isn't the most suspicious thing in the world”

[airxn]

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 his cheek that his eye is almost partially covered. " Oh no, I’m waking up walking corpses. " Everyone here who doesn’t have family waiting for them will end up upside down on the meathooks waiting for Airin to count them. He could spare them some nights of decent rest, but… what’s the point?

" Ah, so you’re really a John Doe who’s already greying in their mid-twenties with no value to note on their life? " Airin takes down some notes, humming to himself. " Which, I guess, would make my job easier because then you’re a perfect candidate for marking you down as kine. That is—if they don’t decide to feed you to our new cannibal. " Airin shakes his head a little, smiling at the audacity. " That dude eats an ungodly amount of flesh every day. "

He then leans the chair closer, and taps his pen against his clipboard. " Again, this is me being nice. If you want, I can start with my favorite party question, and you can ask me something in return–that sound better? "

[corxner]

“Sure, I guess” Faust rolled his eyes and finally properly sitting and talking to Airin now. Otherwise, he'd probably get his own bones broken here and there because he wanted to punch this guy's face in and get rid of that smug.

“It's poliosis,” intense psychological trauma. Could also be the reason why he seemed rather unphased by everything that is wrong with this place (aka everything).

“I work as forensic examiner and pathologist for the FBI” he added, thinking that's a good amount of information to start out the 'interrogation'. “How about you? Why would you work here or all places?”

[thxgrxmrexpxr]

✧ sender presses on receiver's bruises.

— from @corxner

Pressure is what he notices. Building pressure. The dull ache that blooms as more force is applied. Even after the first of the marks began to bloom across the surface of his skin, the reality they offered had felt separate from him. Something detached and wholly other until someone pushed down and made him feel the weight of the damage.

He stares at them through the lenses of the mask. Silent and unscreaming. But the answer is painted across his purple and blackened wrist, where more marks have spread.

"You can't hurt me, if that's what you're attempting to do." He balks. Sharply pulling his hand away now. "Haven't felt real pain in years."

[corxner]

“Since you never tell me how bad things are, so I had to figure it out myself ” Faust huffed, but he wasn't really upset. Just confused on how the older man responded to it— to be fair, he also hadn't asked for permission. But why else would Hunk comes to him? A doctor?

He already stood up to go get a small bag of ice from the small fridge in his office , grabbing one before coming back to the other and sat back down on his chair. He had already prepared items needed to wrap the wrist. Faust had a hunch that he won't appreciate wrist brace.

The assistant looked up to the masked man again, open hand offered Hunk's way. Asking for his hand again. “How did you get hurt?”

[constrictdr]

it's rare that anything or anyone got a chuckle out of the doctor , but that comment simply called for it .  while still subtle and easily missed , victor smiled while breathing out a quiet laugh .      “ of course . i didn't hire you to be a security guard now , did i ? ”      he thought the obvious was implied but it was a good reminder that faust was being paid quite generously for such a simple job .

at the least , it was far too simple and also unnecessary for gideon .  but it was back to playing the part of appearing seemingly like a normal boss within the care center .

moving to sit on his chair he chooses to start reading the given report , going by rather quickly  -  and no , he wasn't skimming at all .  he could ingest information faster than the usual , and if there was ever a moment where he took as long as the average human it was by adding his own thoughts and mental notes in complete silence .

a nod of satisfaction once he was done and he puts down the file on his desk .      “ very impressive , mr maxwell .  now , we should get the tour started .  how about we start from the bottom up ?  the basement is where our most sensitive material is , after all . ”      also the place where faust was either about to come to the horrible realization of what kind of place he was working in now , or full acceptance and understanding of what was at stake here .

[corxner]

He was surprised by the little, quiet laugh from the older man. Faust would have missed it, if he wasn't so attentive at that moment. He filed that away quietly, something to ponder on. “Yes, you indeed haven't ” it's a good thing, even if he was more than capable to act as security with his skills. Less work for Faust to do, and still gets paid handsomely.

He knew there'd be a catch for the kind of salary this place was offering, so the moment Victor mentioned basements... He knew he'd have to take a deep breath and get ready to whatever he might see there. He walked over to the door and waited for Victor to show him around, hopefully this won't take long..

“Lead the way, sir”

[airxn]

" 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞, dragut, stubborn is another word for annoying. " The mercenary then suddenly walks out of the holding cell. His clicking heels can be heard from down the hall, and after a heartbeat of silence, the obnoxious, ear-wrenching squeal of a metal chair is slowly… so slowly… being dragged down the hall.

With his little stunt to be a pill, should he be worried that Faust would try to run? Not at all. Airin can intercept within a blink, and the force he’d use to shove the patient back inside would shatter a few bones.

After what feels like an agonizing eternity, Airin finally reaches Faust’s cell again and flips the chair around so he can rest his arms on its back. Whether the information he’s given is true or not isn’t a concern either. He’ll get it eventually, but first, he wants to start a dialogue. Because this guy doesn’t realize Airin doesn’t want to be in this shithole either.

" So, what’s your story? "

[corxner]

Faust might be quite eager to leave the care centre behind, but he wasn't stupid. He was more than capable to see just how disadvantageous it was for him to try. And besides— he currently was too sleepy to attempt much currently. He didn't know how this man worked, he'd need more time to observe and profile before he did anything.

The sound of the chair was definitely annoying, and all he could do was rolling his eyes. “Go ahead and wake up everyone in the centre, why don't you?” he sighed. How dramatic. “Are you that upset you're bad at your job?” another slight jab as he took another bite of the snack.

He's facing Airin properly now staring at him.

“That's a very broad question. Could you be more specific?”

[airxn]

" 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞; where we get our patients isn’t my concern. " Because all of them, including this guy, were meat bags destined to turn into mindless, murderous fiends. Airin refuses to get close to any of them, including the staff. How this world works is that everyone is expendable, so why bother.

" And, again, I wasn’t asked to come here at 3am. I told you, I’m very annoying when I can’t get what I want. " Yet, he still obliges by digging the Snickers bar out of his ass-pocket and throwing the crooked, half-melted bar onto Faust’s lap.

He lifts the clipboard, scanning it with an air of nonchalance. " So, whether you want to entertain my inquiries or not, consider this me being nice. It’s an easy ask to get some kind of medieval-torture-bullshit going on if you don’t cooperate. I just prefer not to. "

[corxner]

Despite being rather groggy and sleepy still, Faust's reflexes were quite remarkable, grabbing the snickers bars with one hand before proceeding to open it with a hum. A sweet treat it's still a sweet treat even if it's half melted. “Sure, sure. I'm stubborn as a mule though. Even if you bring out torture devices, nothing I tell you will be the truth” and Airin can't tell that either, could he? Since there's literally nothing on this man's files.. even if he were to lie, no one would know. The only way to get him to be truthful is with treats and handle his sass.

He took a bite, already looking at the bottle of water he had next to the bed, before turning his head back to the mercenary, chewing still. Once he's done, he spoke, “So? Go ahead. Ask”