"This wasn't meant to work out, you know." (whispersseventeen)
Frank snorted and for once, found himself agreeing with the old coot.
Years since that chance meeting in the alley and here they were, trapped together within glass walls thousands of fathoms below sea level. Like something out of a fairy tale only with more water in his socks and better sex than either of them could've anticipated. Worlds away from the cold streets and hotel rooms they used to frequent, and they'd been in all kinds, hadn't they?
"Is this what you call workin' out?"
He waved a hand towards one of the wide windows and to the teemless ocean beyond it. Could've done worse than to end up in a sunless box filled to the brim with stuck up nobodies, he supposed.
"Guess I got that magic charm, huh? Just couldn't stay away from me."
Dr. Steinman sat behind his desk, running through his itinerary for the day. Just a few more consultations and the rest of the evening was his. He was also waiting on a call from one Mrs. Dellahunt, a repeat patient and very outspoke proponent of his. She had been uncertain if she could make it down to his office that afternoon and promised to call beforehand with an answer. A few minutes before four, the phone rang, as anticipated. Thinking it was her, the surgeon picked up the receiver and answered rather jovially.
"Ah, glad to finally hear from you Mrs. Dellahunt! I…oh, oh! Mr. Ryan! M-My apologies! I er, and here I thought you were a client of mine. You see, I’ve been expecting a call and…yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir, g-go on…”
Moira, in the end, was going to kill them both. She didn't actually have any idea if it was Allen's fault or Andrew's. And for that reason and that reason alone she was going to kill them both. It was Rapture. There were people she could pay to get rid of the bodies. Wouldn't even be hard to find those people. Fuck, she could put out an ad in the Rapture Tribune; 'Polyamorous Woman Seeking to be Single Mother- bring your own weapon, for details contact Moira McCullen at Ryan Industries'.
The red head dragged herself carefully down the stairs. Hated them. Both of them would die. Patrick and Jack were about as happy as she'd expect. Pat was yelling how it wasn't fair that he had no say in it whatsoever. Jack was crying that they were all gonna love the new child more then him because he was a freak.
Her only real hope was that, with all the fucking bed-rest Allen and Andrew put her on, she wouldn't lose this one. Couldn't handle that happening again.
"Andrew..." She did not whine because she was grown ass woman who happened to feel like a blimp. "Andrew I can't get my shoes on..." She may have whined a little because she was a grown ass woman who was the size of a blimp.
Ryan looked up from whatever paperwork he was doing. It had been decided (behind her back) that due to Moira's insistence that she was perfectly capable of everything, one of the men always brought work home. They had taken the liberty of quitting her job at the diner temporarily for her as well. Bastards.
"Why do you need shoes?"
Moira frowned and put her hands on her hips. Though it wasn't half as intimidating when her belly was shaped at it was. What was she really going to do? Beat him in her state?
"I'm going out."
Andrew at least had the decency not to laugh. Much. Just a chuckle before he leaned over and kissed her stomach softly. "No you're not. Sinclair Solutions released a new Plasmid and it's not safe."
"Don't tell me what's safe or not Andrew."
"It's." He kissed her stomach again. "Not." He started to rise, kissing her chest in the most innocent way he could manage. "Safe." The bloody King of Rapture kissed Moira softly on the lips. Bastard was a distraction and if this was his fault she was going to kill him.
"Asshole."
Ryan chuckled again but only responded with another kiss, one hand finding the back of her neck and the other laying gently on her belly, feeling the child inside her shift around.
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Atlas could spot the woman from a mile away. it's not to say miss ryan had a spectacular look about her quite the contrary, actually. atlas found her to be awfully bland. it's just that she had to completely familiarized with her enemy. she had to know everything about the other woman her strengths and her weaknesses and what she hid from others. it's a shame that ryan was such a secretive woman, or else this would be going much easier for fontaine. it's not the first time she's had to fake her death, but faking it in a place like rapture was a tad bit more complicated than faking it in new york or any other city up top. she had managed it just fine, though. francine fontaine was dead to the rapture public, and now the revolutionary atlas was alive and kicking. the movement was still pretty new, though a poster here, another one there, a few rumors spreading but besides that, the state of rapture was calmer than it's been in months.
she's not surprised to see the oh so great woman here. there had been a small, passive rally just a few moments ago, and atlas had made sure the word got to ryan so she would be here. it's the first time francine has seen her since she faked her death, and she's almost disappointed that she still looks the same. with a pinched brow, she burns out her cigarette under her boot and approaches the woman she's grown to hate so much with the utmost calmness. there was no way ryan would know who she was, anyway. not unless if she paid extra attention to those posters, since the image on them didn't resemble atlas fully.
" miss ryan ain't it rare t' see ya out here. came t' see
who dares t' oppose ya at this rally, didn't 'cha? ya
came a bit late, though. everybody's already gone
'cept for me, 'o course. "
how she wishes she could laugh
in ryan's face for being stupid
enough to believe she was truly
dead.
All kinds of weather, we stick together The same in the rain and sun Two different faces, but in tight places We think and we act as one
Sisters, Irving Berlin
This innocent who bears my faceWho goes to judgement in my placeWho am I?Can I conceal myself for evermore?Pretend I'm not the man I was before?And must my name until I dieBe no more than an alibi?
Who Am I, Les Miserables
The choice was mine and mine completelyI could have any prize that I desiredI could burn with the splendor of the brightest fireOr else or else I could choose timeRemember I was very young thenAnd a year was forever and a daySo what use could fifty, sixty, seventy be?I saw the lights and I was on my wayAnd how I lived! How they shone!But how soon the lights were gone!
Ryan glanced over at the other him. "What?" he said, over the newspaper. The redness around Andy's nose and mouth told him that he'd had another nosebleed. His brain was slowly ripping itself apart. He folded the newspaper and stood up, brushing off his casual trousers. They were supposed to have a nice day, why did he have to ruin it with a revelation like this? "Don't be stupid," he said, reaching for his golf bag, which was over by his twin. "We're going to fix this. You'll live a long time.""No," Andy said, picking up a golf club and staring pensively at it. "We won't."
There was a smirk on Moira’s painted lips. It seemed, at times, placed there permanently. A select few in the entire city of Rapture knew what any other smile looked like when worn by Moira McCullen. Andrew Ryan was one of those lucky number. Not, perhaps, today however. Not when she was seated so comfortably on his desk.
By all rights the woman had no reason to be on the desk. Certainly not dressed as she was. It was indecent at the very best. Even the whores of Eve’s Garden would shutter to be seen in the ensemble that the red head had pieced together though it more then had the desired effect. Andrew having stopped part of the way through the threshold before collecting himself enough to turn and lock the door behind him. Glanced over his shoulder to get another look.
Moira’s smirk only pressed deeper into her mouth. Uncrossing her stocking clad legs and recrossing them. The short hem of her shortened skirt briefly being moved enough to glimpse the lace panties underneath. Midriff bare, thin stretchmarks the only delicate reminders of her pregnancy of Patrick. Her breasts covered in little more then her brassiere, a thin wrap thrown over her shoulders as though the silk fabric could hope to cover the woman or keep her warm.
"Allen said ya might be thinkin’ about workin’ late again." There was good reason to tell Allen and not her. In short? Moira was here to convince Andrew not to get things done. He was a businessman. He needed to conduct business. But there was a seductress on his paperwork.
"It won’t be too late Moira." The man promised halfheartedly. They both knew that it was a lie.
With a sigh the red head slid off the desk, leaving behind the shawl and swigging her hips far more then decent in a skirt as short as she was in. No one in the world would wear something that short. it must have been altered. So far above her knee it left next to nothing to the imagination.
Moira wrapped her arms around Andrew’s neck, pressing herself against him before kissing his lips softly.
"Come home mo Rí."
"Not right now. There are things that need doing." And for once it didn’t include her or her husband.
A brief darkness flashed in emerald eyes. That was the wrong answer Andrew Ryan. She kissed his again. More eager then before. Sighed against his lips as though that alone could set her off. Again, they both knew it was a lie. The more he resisted the deeper the kiss became. Moira had no patience for this teasing. Before long the kissing faded into soft bites of the mans lips. A gentle scrape of teeth that threatened to become far more painful if he did not obey.
"Andrew. Home. Now."
The unofficial king of Rapture groaned. This is what he got for taking advantage of Allen all those years ago. An insatiable Moira who knew more and more how to get her way.
"One hour Moira. I am not leaving all this undone."
The red head bit his lip one last time before breaking away from him, making herself comfortable in a chair across the heavy desk from where he usually sat.
"Then I’m not leavin’ either. Not like I can be seen in this now can I?" The smirk back on her lips before she licked them. "I’ll be right ‘ere when ya decide work ain’t so important anymore."
