#this instead

Gabriel is seething, Akande can sense it even from here, across the room from him. It matters not. He never had the sense for the delicacy of their project. What they’re trying to accomplish requires finesse as well as savagery. Before he recruited him to his cause, he’d hoped Reye possessed both.

He circles the room. His hand presses politely into the back of a partygoer in a red dress. It shifts and sparkles when she moves, like rippling wine in the low light. She looks up at him and immediately shifts her gaze downwards. Her eyelashes are long and midnight dark. 

“This is pointless,” Gabriel grates, suddenly appearing right beside him. Akande manages to keep it together; he had not yet turned ten when his nerves had gotten torn well enough to grow over thick and impervious. Like thick skin on war proven knuckles. He studies Gabriel, the way he falls in line with Akande’s steps effortlessly. He is keeping it together nicely, though his shoulders are raised and tense. In this light his skin almost doesn’t look grey. On a rooftop somewhere, Amélie scans over them.

“Pointless? Please.” They come to a stop right under a grand window. The crowd is shifting and vibrating. Akande can sense their collective eyes bound tight to the two of them. “It is beyond important to make an appearance.”

“I simply do not understand why you grovel for their affection.” Gabriel’s voice is strained.

Akande scoffs. “Unclench your jaw or you will add a headache to your ailments.”

He gets the sense Gabriel would have spat on him if he could. The thought amuses him. The notion that he can’t amuses him even more. It makes him soften, he turns slightly, waves a hand and explains:

“I do not require them to love me.” He swirls his glass, tips his chin up and smiles at a passing blonde. “I need them to love my purpose.”

Gabriel breathes, harsh and ragged. The closest he can come to a biting laugh in this setting. “You’re a shit liar.” He’s facing Akande’s gaze head on. Always searching for the next thing that will destroy him. “Admit you love the limelight.”

His eyes are flint and rage and despair. Akande corrects the way his suit sleeve rests over his arm. He suspects he wouldn't feel even a smidgen more powerful even if he was wearing the doomfist tonight.

“Your right,” he nods slightly. “I do find this amusing.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrow, then he barks a laugh, low and grating. “This is all a game to you.” There’s no malice or question behind, no judgment. 

“Couldn’t be further from the truth,” Akande grins. He thinks he is owed this. He allows himself to revel in this moment. He looks out over the crowd and sees only the world that he is about to reshape, the rebirth he will welcome. It’s not a game, it’s a playground. And they will never ever forget the man who crafted castles and justice and grandeur from the sand.