THE NUMBER OF THE BEAST IS 666.

he takes a quick shower at his place,  long enough to scrub the smell of any gunpowder off his skin that may have permeated through the suit ---- the daredevil suit felt as part of him as his skin and really,  he hates guns,  but this had been a pretty special occasion to use it ---- and dresses in a sensible-looking suit.  his apartment’s put-together,  pristine as ever,  and he’s careful to scrub the sink before he leaves after brushing his teeth. 

steph’s roommate gladly takes the creased hundred dollar bill he offers to leave before letting him inside,  where he goes to knock on her bedroom door.  hadn’t quite realized in all of his manic glee that it’s only eight in the morning because he’s been up night and day. 

“Play too fast and you miss opportunities.”

Billy’s voice is pleasant but not warm, his gaze flicking intently between the raw, metallic chunk of rock and Dex’s face. It’s the kind of look that he gives to his own kind, no softness in his eyes. He’s always heard that two serial killers in a room full of people could spot each other from across the crowd. 

“You like it?” He asks, meaning a little more than the paperweight in his hand. “You can sit, you know. I promise it’s a comfortable chair.”

“ not if you’re careful. ”

there’s a sort of restless energy within dex today,  like there is every day ---- he doesn’t think he can sit still for too long and doesn’t want to try,  doesn’t like the idea of being herded to do anything like a goddamn sheep.  but you know what ?  he’ll humor you,  bill.   he sits in the chair,  comfortable plush and all,  and even crosses his legs,  elegant like the other man.  purposeful.  he likes that,  the chair,  and the look billy’s giving him now.  he knows that look,  at least.   

the adamantium between vertebrae make his back crackle and pop when he leans back in his chair,  looking over billy with a small smile on his features,  polite as can be.