it sleeps in me

That fucking wedding ring. No matter how many times he's tried to slip it off Sam's neck or lose it in the wash, it always finds its way back, heavy and shining as ever. Seth twists the cap off and leans over Sam, holding the glue over the worst of the wounds in faintly-trembling fingers. He's the last person that needs to be gluing gashes together, but it's obvious Sable needs a moment... he remembers the first time he saw the damn thing. "Don't worry," he mutters. "It bothers me too."

Wait– “Seth.” Sable’s voice is sharp. “Why are we doing this? He’s been like this since last night and you haven’t called a doctor?”

"Glad we're in agreement, then!" Obviously it was not the same thing, but was Ihsan mature enough to admit that? Of course not! At least, not to one of the people he was talking about. Nonetheless, he didn't not find these optic plays predatory; nonetheless, he didn't not find the fake smiles and fake support nearly as reprehensible as the unethical experimentation... "Actually, yes." He was talking one big game ( and a game he could follow through on, consequences be damned ), but he couldn't pretend that he wasn't growing reliant on Adonis for the specialized drug he supplied. To support that, he shook the bottle of pills again. If it weren't for those, if it weren't for all he was offered in return for being a his lab rat, there was a possibility Ihsan would have ratted the man out the moment he learned of the experimentation. Although it was far more likely he would have just... taken it into his own hands. "Haven't ever met a single person who'd get fucking poked and prodded just to get fucking poked and prodded." Save, perhaps, for Ezra, but she didn't need to know that.

“Okay, so a citizen is telling me they’re vulnerable and being used by one of my colleagues. What can I do to support you, in theory? Something a little more immediately obtainable than dismantling the Council, I mean.” Helping him isn’t exactly a top priority, but Sable just wants to get something of use out of him – he can’t just say he’s dissatisfied then provide one, enormously radical solution. Surely there’s some sort of rational, level-minded thing he can say? Or maybe Sable is too optimistic.

He smiled at her, soft and kind. "I will never judge someone their cliches, ma'am, nor for much else besides."

It's even worse when, after peeling back the remains of his shirt and seeing that damned crucifix clawed into his chest, Sable looks up at Seth, like he's got the answer. The concerned question in her expression is far from reassuring. "It's gotta be that wolf motherfucker," he says through gritted teeth, sees that her next move is to turn him over and does his best to lend his strength where Sable needs it. He comes in close to Sam, murmurs an apologetic warning. "Alright buddy, we've gotta turn you over, okay...?"

Sable lets out a heavy exhale, actually pausing for the first time since she arrived. It's a bad idea, because the tears are streaming down her face before she's even aware of them welling up, and it's all she can do not to double over in grief. Six years after she left him, and he still wears this? The bastard! Fuck! Every time Sable thinks she's really ready to move on, he finds another way to keep clinging on to her heart. The worst part is that he's never even aware that he's doing it. He just goes about his day, being his hapless self, and manages still to make Sable's heart skip a beat as if she's still that stupid teenage girl.

"maybe not all of them. there are birds that only fancy other birds, can't forget that. wouldn't want to waste my time barking up the wrong tree." but sable isn't wrong in her inklings—ezra is exactly the kind of man she thinks he is. "but i want you to know i take offense to that. it's got nothing to do with conquest. that's just silly. it's not my fault you happen to be extraordinarily beautiful and a councilor of the city. we could have been walking on the street and i still would have fancied myself a hello."

"Well-- hello. And goodbye." Sable offers the most insincere smile she can muster, having now reached the front door. She opens it, holding her arm out in a 'go on, out you get' gesture, because she's made the mistake of grabbing his arm once. She won't be doing that again. In an ideal world, she'll not be seeing this man again at all, though she fears she's not that lucky.

He huffs a humorless laugh. "Look babe, he tried life with you, and it didn't work out. Now that's real sad and all, but holding me suggestively against a wall isn't gonna fix it, so unless you're looking for a quick hatefuck on the lawn, I have to get back to work."

With one last shove for good measure (there's no audience, and it makes Sable feel better even if it's petty), she says, "You're a fucking pig, Seth." Her disgust is clear and pure as she stalks off, seething.

"Oh, I know you're still fun. I'm the boring one. You know how it is: kid, important government job, yadda yadda. Although I guess Delilah would resent me using her as an excuse now she's in her twenties." Sable rolls her eyes at herself. "I don't know, Stell. I wish I could, but I feel like letting loose would just end badly for me. Can you imagine the headlines if a Councillor makes a drunken ass of herself?"

Ihsan put a hand to his heart in feigned hurt, throwing his head back with all the melodrama of a teenager telling their mom that 'it's not a phase!'. "A councilor telling me I've got pretty poor behavior? Fuck me, whatever will I do?" In truth, the woman had a fine point. The only way Ihsan could justify not telling her, on a moral ground, was by remembering that every mutant Adonis experimented on had volunteered. If they allowed him to poke and prod and couldn't heal from it? Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew it was wrong to say that that was on them... but the forefront was totally fine with that! Nonetheless, he wasn't going to tell Sable that, from what he understood, everyone had volunteered -- that made it seem... maybe not okay, but not not okay! "I'll tell you this about the mutants your colleague is experimenting on: they're all vulnerable -- easy to prey on." Not entirely true, but Ihsan was sure that some of them had been coerced into it! And he couldn't leave Sable thinking that he was just fine with mutants being experimented on completely unwillingly! Hell, if it weren't for the drugs, Ihsan wouldn't be letting Adonis fuck around... but that was more of a moral thing -- you know, more of a 'fuck the councilors' thing. "Not very surprising from a Councilor, ey? I mean, you wanted to dance with me so you could prey on the mutant population -- just in a different way." Definitely more moral.

"Are you counting yourself among the vulnerable, then, out of interest? Since you say all these alleged experimentation victims are vulnerable." It's not the first word that Sable would use to describe Ihsan, nor the second or the third... truthfully, the only reason she's not the least bit frightened is because they're in so public a place. In a dark alley? She'd not be so bold.

"Great. I'll just wait here, then." It's clear Sable feels awkward about this; but then again, so does Jackie. Later, when she can actually meet with Professor Kimball, she'll take great pleasure in making him feel as awkward and ashamed as she can. But for now, it's not this poor girl's fault that her employer is an inconsiderate ass. Sable clears her throat over a particularly hard to ignore moan, searching for something to say -- anything! "This doesn't seem like the most exciting work! You must get bored standing around outside office doors."

"You exaggerate the dangers," he knows Sable won't like this. He bites his tongue and at least doesn't make a dig at her sector and lack of knowledge. Surely someone in her sector would know this? "Haven't the attacks all been connected? It doesn't seem entirely random and, so, the dangers are limited to the overall population. Whatever it takes in relation to the size of the danger." So only specific people are in danger, whereas fewer resources? Lesser evil and all that.

"And I don't think I'm exaggerating. Even if the attacks are limited to a small subset of people, I don't think that small subset of people deserve to have their safety disregarded due to statistics." She frowns, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Can we not do this, Ngelah? I've been thinking myself in circles all night already. I don't think having the same arguments out loud with you is going to help me sleep. Nor you." she gives him a pointed look with that last comment. Whatever his reputation for stoicism, Sable knows there's an anxiety in Ngelah that rarely rests.

He follows in behind Sable and lays the first aid kit on the bed by Sam's legs, some strange part of him a bit embarrassed that he hadn't attempted to clean up a little before she showed up: one of those stupid thoughts made possible by sleep deprivation and shock. "He's not fuckin' healing, Sable," Seth breathes ragged, clumsily groping around his person for a cigarette and lighter. "He should be better by now, right?"

It's got to be that freak that's been attacking so many people; Richard isn't the first victim. It never occurred to her that he might be a victim at all. He was always so strong. He doesn't look strong now, though. The skin around the wound -- all of the wounds -- is inflamed and puffy, his skin frighteningly pale. The deep crimson blood makes even his fiery hair look washed out and sickly.

He hopes Sable can help, bring some of her wretched level-headedness to the situation. Otherwise, it may at least feel better to have some company as he watches Sam slip through his fingers.

She wasn't prepared for this scene. Still, silent, the air redolent of metal and pain. "First aid kit." she snaps at Seth, because she can't immediately see one if he's already got it out. Richard's chest looks still, and Sable holds her breath with it, crossing to the bed upon which he lies unconscious. Later, she already knows she's going to break down, but in this moment her hand is steady as she lifts one eyelid to check that the pupil dilates in the light. Her other hand slips on the blood as she tries to find a pulse in his neck, and her fingers find the wretched, ragged flesh, and Sable gags. It is part horror, part squeamishness, part bone-deep true fear. Richard has hurt her in many ways, but never like this: never with his life shivering upon a knife's edge.

"not hard enough." it takes a lot to become bad company to ezra... much more than he assumes sable is willing to dish out. but who's to say? he's always liked to be proven wrong. in cases like this, that is. certainly not in general. "'fraid you might be wasting your time there," ironic, given the circumstances; "i think i could take just about anything you throw at me, s'long as you're the one throwing."

"Mhm, and I'm sure your smooth talking works on all the ladies." Not even just the ladies, Sable has to assume. Ezra strikes her as an 'any hole is a goal' type of person. "And I'm equally sure this all has nothing to do with some vested interest in bagging a Councillor as a conquest." Ezra wouldn't be the first with an interest like that, and he no doubt won't be the last. It's not that Sable believes that's the only reason someone might flirt with her, but Ezra is so blatant about it that she's almost certain he's not actually attracted to her due to any personal qualities she possesses.

"Wellll," he purred. The tip of his tail flicked and danced with flirtatious delight. "You are finer than a frog's hair split for ways... You here lookin' for a little company?"

Her gaze lingers. This man doesn’t look like Richard but she wonders anyway if this is what a working day looks like for Richard. The warmth, so believable, in spite of the desperation behind it. It makes her sad, and she’s not got the energy to keep it off her face right now.