so i'll be on my way

Ryan laughed, gliding through the door to follow Sebastian. “I am so much cuter than Sigourney Weaver. You should show a little love to family.” She bit down on the word with a sharp smile. The Titans were, in some twisted terrible way, a family. She couldn’t decide whether she loved it or hated it most days, and settled for a vague indifference and an accidental loyalty that dug deep into her gut. “Especially family who wants to play with your new toys.”

“Making play a synonym to handle is dangerous.” Sebastian responds, choosing to ignore the commentary on family. Family had been nothing in Sebastian’s life - a tumor, a virus. A mistake. This was different, better. 

He would not call it a family.

“You look like you need sleep more than coffee, I wouldn’t enable you like that.” Richard shot back with a knowing look, stepping through the doorway as soon as Sam allowed him to. Shutting the door on his way in, he shrugged despite knowing the other man couldn’t see him. “A little bit of both, really. I just want to see what you’ve been tinkering away at and making sure you’re actually getting sleep.” A frown quickly replaced his smile as he sighed in disapproval. “How long have you been up?”

“Yes, because you are a pinnacle of good decisions.” Sebastian scoffs, climbing the stairs without looking back. Though he doubts Richard’s altruism, the twitch in his hand is definitively more pronounced and he seems to be looking around - paranoia. All signs of sleep deprivation for the man.

Bastien smelled of cigarette smoke when the door was pulled open, but the scent of alcohol didn’t accompany it. He slouched slightly, making himself seem even shorter, and his eyes were quiet and blank on the other Sebastian’s blue ones. “Sam,” he said quietly, holding up the single takeaway cup of coffee in his hand. “Mind if I watch you work?” There’s something comforting about it. Bas didn’t particularly want to talk, at least not yet. Sam was quiet and didn’t make Bastien feel like he had to stand any taller. The hitman rubbed a hand across his obviously exhausted face, rolling his head slowly around so his neck cracked. 

“Look,” he said, his voice heavy and rough with something he couldn’t talk about. “I’ll go if you really want me to but I figured the coffee could at least get me in the door, and I wanted to talk to you about some modifications on my rifle anyway.”

Immediately, Sebastian can gather certain tells of the other’s state. The slouch, the flickering of his eyes, the nature of the question - obviously something was wrong. But, that had always been Sebastian’s weakness - compassion. A need to love and be loved.

He’s stepping out of the way even before Bastien explains himself, though he keeps his demeanor as nonchalant as possible. He looks affable rather than concerned and he seeks to keep it that way.

“Two coins for the gate keeper.” Sam comments softly, taking the coffee as it’s offered to him. “Come.” He says nothing else, waiting until Sebastian has made it securely inside to reinstate the security protocols and begin to lead the other up towards the lab.

If there’s one thing that Sebastian knows as a pinnacle method of coping, it’s diversion, so he draws Bastien’s focus with a question.

Sebastian, local cranky grandpa, was hardly the most her first choice for company, but the older man was a special kind of off his kilter, and Ryan could appreciate all kinds of entertainment. She had smiled up at the security camera, a mocha frappacino in hand as she waved with her free hand. She waited for him to step out of the laboratory he hid himself away in for days at a time.

She met his comment with a pout, all wide, practiced puppy eyes and pursed pink lips. “Not happy to see your favorite girl?”

After a moment lingering, Sebastian takes a half step back, permitting the door to open a bit more for the other if she so chose to enter. 

“Special delivery,” Kit chimes, and he’s wearing a shirt and tie, but the jacket has the name of a fake delivery service on the back.  Never let it be said that Kit doesn’t know how to hide in plain sight.  His charming smile is only a bit condescending, and he shoves his hands into his pockets, pulling out the first of three items.  Sebastian is the one who hired him, and honestly should be a bit more grateful at this quick turn around.

“One murderous flashlight,” he lists, holding out a small box no bigger than a DVD case, but about three inches thick.  Next is a ring box holding a similarly painful ring, and he holds them out to the man in the doorway, waiting for him to take them before the final item.  The house behind him is dark, but Kit can’t help but take in as much as he can.  It fascinated him, this seeming innocent house that has the same violent tendencies of its owner.  

“I assume you have the proof of payment before receiving the complete order?” he prompts, still holding out both boxes.  

It does take him a moment - he can't remember every spineless floater he meets immediately. Imagine the clutter for the brain that would be. Soon enough, however, and, with the visual prompt of the packages, he remembers the man. Remembers what he was after. 

He nods. 

"You'll follow me." He says, shoulders straightening up as he reaches for a panel just beside the door on the inside wall. He doesn't pull his eyes from the other until the panel chirps a nice, warm trio of notes. Whatever he's deactivated he does not disclose, stepping to the side and opening the door wider. "I will inspect the items before presenting you with your compensation. Not the other way around." And, as if anticipating argumentation, he adds, "Don't take me for a fool. Nor a cheat." 

If there was one thing that Richard knew about Sam in their years together, it was that leaving him alone to his devices was key in developing something truly deadly. Another thing he had learned over the years, however? He would also likely forget that a breath of fresh air was good for the soul if he spent too much time wrapped up in his cave of sorts. In the span of their friendship, he was often times sure he bothered Sebastian far too much for his own good, but he hadn’t been shut out quite yet and he would continue to do so until he was.

Grinning at his apprehension as he stood at his doorway as though Richie were the sun and Sam were a man with a hangover, he craned his head. “Aren’t my visits always important? Are you going to invite me in or are we going to continue standing with a door between us like we’re not friends or something?”

"Friends? Presumptuous, for a man who didn't even bother to bring coffee." Regardless of what he's said, he still steps aside, deactivating his security protocol before opening the door in full. Perhaps he ought to protest the others presence - he never could get anything done with the man around - but he'd been up over twenty four hours and climbing. A break would do him well. "Do you come making requests?" He hums, starting back for the stairs. "Or is this social?"

What welcomed him at the door was a flash of teeth and a flickering tongue - both were sharp and pointed. “Well.” It was something between a hiss and a purr buried under each other and interlaced with one another in her tone. “I’m important.” The edge of her lips lifted in the slightest to expose more gum and more white that, despite it’s animalistic hint, was meant to lay somewhere between friendly and intimidating. “And that makes my visit… important. Don’t you think.”

The tilt of her head was paired with the rhetorical question to make an emphasis, to make an uncertainty, to make the air heavy. Iapetus was a man of ghost stories told around the table in the basement of Nyra. Intrigue was to say the least. Despite his name being muttered and spit around her ears, Octavia’s eyes were missing out - she’d decided to change that.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

 Per usual, Sebastian’s mind runs a mile a minute. Of course, he had no doubt that his safety was guaranteed - only a fool would attack a man with his comprehension of weaponry in his own fortress - but, still. He was aware of the importance of certain precautions. He wonders, vacantly, if her sad excuse for a grin is supposed to intimidate him and wonders as well whether or not faking said intimidation would serve him well - though, by the time he’s thought of all that the moment has passed.

“What business have you here?” He decides again. It was not often that those outside of his direct circle made house calls. Not outside of the parties, anyways. Especially given his - reputation. She had his intrigue, for certain, but not much else.

“I do hope your reasoning for paying a visit at such an - inconvenient - time is of some importance.” He says, not altogether unkind as he cracks the door open, surveying his guest with an understandable wariness.