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Grave Matters: A Repo! Roleplay (SevenxKawamura)

A low chuckle. â??Good idea, kid. Iâ??ll try doing that next time.â? She had her fatherâ??s same habit of observing people, but with those big eyes and the lack of constraints, it was a lot cuter on her. Though, with that look she was giving him as she eyed his hair, she was probably just as likely to turn the hose on him to get him clean.

Graverobber reached up, tilting his head to the side as he started carding his hair with his fingers, dislodging a few dead leaves onto Nathanâ??s pure white pillow and sheets. He wasnâ??t even sure where those came from: nothing grew particularly well these days on this diseased island, and the few full-sized trees heâ??d seen were either skeletons or found in well-tended parks with high entrance fees.

For those that paid fees, of course. As far as Graverobber was concerned, fees were things that happened to other people.

â??The colors are supposed to be there,â? he said, rolling his eyes theatrically. â??And not all of it will brush out. See?â? He fished out a thick cord of hair, holding it out from his head. â??Iâ??ll only get this out by cutting it. And itâ??s not like I have time to comb my hair most days.â?
 
She watched as he lifted a particularly pink cord of hair, clearly fascinated by the sight of it; sometimes there were people on the television who had hair like that, but they were always the rebels and the bikers, the ones who caused trouble. As far as Shilo was concerned, it looked pretty awesome, though she wasn't sure she could convince her father to get her a different coloured wig - she would probably just have to stick to the jet black.

"Why?" Shilo asked, "What do you do, when you're not breaking into houses?"

And it was asked with such sincerity that it was clear she wasn't trying to be sarcastic - even if the words sounded like they should have been coming out of her father.
 
â??I happen to like the colors.â? Graverobber sounded a little miffed as he dropped the rope of hair. Ah. Now wasnâ??t that an interesting question. â??I sell drugs,â? he answered honestly. â??People who get too many surgeries start falling apart, plus, all the new parts hurt like hell.â?

He closed his eyes leaning back again and settling down in the warmth, doing his best to appear non-threatening.

â??Itâ??s a fair living. Itâ??s better than stealing, Iâ??d say.â? Though he did a fair amount of that, but usually from the dead, and they had no reason to keep things. Scavenging, then, was a better word in his mind; stealing implied someone wanted what he was taking.
 
Shilo stared hard at Graverobber, unblinking for a few long moments as though trying to assess if he was telling the truth, and when she finally blinked, she slowly cocked her head to the side, looking eerily like a pale little doll sitting there,

"But drugs are bad," Shilo said flatly, "I thought people were only supposed to buy from GeneCo because it's safer, I mean, they say it's illegal to buy Zydrate from an unlicensed source - I hear it on my balcony sometimes, coming from one of the floating billboards."

She hesitated, then asked,

"Do you work for GeneCo?"
 
â??Oh, yes. Theyâ??re very bad,â? Graverobber said, almost amused at his lack of deceit. He had a terrible hatred of Zydrate, after all, and the damned junkies and scalpel sluts that followed it like so many insects. The stuff was amazing, no joke about it, but the ways people could abuse were even more so. But after awhile, people started running out of new things to do with it, and all you saw was the same tired shells going for the same tired prize. â??Zydrateâ??s never safe. GeneCo just waters down the stuff so you have to keep buying more and more for the same level.â?

At her question, he actually laughed. â??Me? Not at all. I have some professional dignity as a dealer.â? He opened his eyes, taking in that doll like stillness. Kids werenâ??t supposed to be still like that: even the ones on the street who were remarkably old for their bodies, tended to fidget and move. â??Always stay away from a GeneCo deal, kid. The fine printâ??s deadly."

But Nathan would never allow her near any surgery table, would he? Graverobber had a bad feeling about this: you kept kids under lock and key, and they turned crazy once they were let go.
 
Slowly, Shilo nodded her head; her father had barely spoken about GeneCo, but when he did, there was a peculiar bitterness in his voice - she had never been sure why, but he always told her that there was no such thing as a Repo Man employed for GeneCo, there was no such thing as a surgeon who came in the night and ripped organs from people without anesthetic or sympathy. It was all a story, he said, made up so GeneCo could scare people into paying - it was a bluff.

Sometimes Shilo wondered what would happen if someone called the bluff.

Her eyebrows rose at the mention of fine print, her eyes oddly bright,

"So," she said, "Then there are Repo Men?"

Then there was a voice, sharp and even, coming from the doorway,

"Did you take your medication?"

Shilo started just slightly, and then turned and looked at Nathan; he was standing stiffly in the door, his hair was sticking out at one side from where he had been laying, and he looked as though he hadn't slept at all.

"Yeah dad, I took it an hour ago." she said, and realized that he was staring at Graverobber, "I was talking to Mr. Fell. He's kind of -"

"- you need to get something to eat, sweetheart." Nathan said, and then added through his teeth, "And I need to run a check up on Marcus."
 
Graverobber parted his lips â?? of a normal color for once, not the oxygen-deprived deep hues he tended to favour â?? just slightly, the skin around his eyes tightening as he took in this new information. Of course the girl wouldnâ??t know. Nathan had a good reason to convince her Rottiâ??s legendary (only to those who had the money to pay, of course, on the streets they were a very real though embellished threat) brute squad was just that: legend.

He never had the chance to respond. That rainbow-streaked head turned quickly to the unhappy, under-slept and (in his opinion) under-sexed father standing in the door. He looked skewed, his hair mussed on one side, the same that was slightly red from sleep.

If he had slept. He appeared to have laid down, but there was little sign of him actually sleeping other than the black frames on his girlâ??s face and the bare feet. Nathan still looked just as tired as before, though slightly less angry.

Only slightly.

â??Leave the glasses would you, kid?â? Graverobber said. Not that he imagined Nathan would need them; poisoning obnoxious guests was not an exact science. â??It was good talking to you without the poker, by the way.â?
 
Shilo's eyes flicked between the two men, and though her socialization was limited, she had the good sense to realize that she was directly in the middle of something she didn't want to be stuck in. She was, however, astounded by the look on her father's face - in the doorway, he was silhouetted the way he always was at night, but this time she could see his expression and there was something about it that didn't look quite like her dad.

She didn't like it.

But she took the glasses off and set them down on the bed, hopping off and giving Graverobber one more sideways glance,

"Yeah, nice talking to you when you're not tied up." Shilo replied promptly, and paused to look at Nathan in the doorway; when he realized she was eyeing him, he looked back at her, and his expression immediately softened and he looked incredibly human. Forgetting for an instant that Graverobber was there, he hugged Shilo to his chest, closing his eyes briefly; he would never say it out loud, but he had been scared the previous night, when she'd called him and said someone was in the house - he'd been scared he would lose her, that he wouldn't get there in time, that something would go wrong.

Shilo was his world and she would be until the day he died.

And then she left and it was just the two of them again, and Nathan picked up a stethoscope from the bedside table,

"How are you feeling now?" he asked simply.
 
Graverobber watched this little father-daughter exchange with sharp eyes, noting how the bit of the Repo Man was chased away from her like a shadow by a little flame. Even when she was gone, her slim frame slipping out through the door as her father came forward, she left Nathan much more â?¦ well, Nathan.

â??A bit like I was poisoned a few hours before,â? he said brightly, nestling back into the pillows and blankets heâ??d piled up behind him. His loss for not wanting to sleep in the bed: Graverobber was enjoying it immensely. And there was no point for Nathan being upset with him: heâ??d done the kid a favour warning her about GeneCo, probably something Nathan himself could personally appreciate. "But other than that, fine.

â??Howâ??s your neck?â? His smile had twisted back into something more predatory now that the little girl was gone, but he stayed in his place, not wanting to bait the man too much while he was still weak. No, that was a bad idea, though Repo and Nathan both seemed fond of taking advantage of him when he was ill disposed.
 
"Yes, that's generally the desired effect," Nathan replied crisply, lingering by the beside for a moment before setting himself down on the edge of the bed, putting the stethoscope on and leaning in; he paused halfway, however, at Graverobber's comment. At first, he thought the man was referring to the pain in his neck from the awkward way he had slept on the couch that night, but then he was reminded again of what had happened, and he unconsciously brought his hand to his throat, his fingers touching to the large, hideously purple and black welt that stood out by his adam's apple, right where he was unable to hide it. He was simultanesouly reminded of the sting on his bottom lip from where Graverobber had bitten him, and he found himself recalling the taste of the other man.

His ears went pink, but he carried on, pressing the stethoscope to Graverobber's chest, listening to his heart beat; it wasn't erratic, and he touched his hand to the other man's skin for an instant - no fever either, so he was out of the woods anyways.

"You won't die from it anyways," Nathan said dismissively, pulling the stethoscope away and ignoring the heat he was feeling along his neck and into his ears.
 
Graverobber laughed at that pause and the way Nathanâ??s hand when to his neck. Obviously, he knew exactly what they were talking about: the coloring on the tip of his ears was just as good of a sign. The dealer was fairly docile for the rest of it, though, letting the good doctor go through his peaceful check up, though he did hiss when the cold metal touched his chest. He had expected, for a moment back there, a little more violence.

He wasnâ??t quite sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

â??Iâ??m hard to kill.â? Graverobber shrugged his shoulders. â??By the way, youâ??ve got a good kid,â? he said, knowing from the few parents he had interacted with that the majority of them were pleased to have their kids complimented. â??Smart. Iâ??d be careful.â? Dark eyes were focused not on Nathanâ??s own, but lower. Around, in fact, the level of a rather nasty bruise that had spilled across the skin of his throat. "She'll have you figured out soon, and that'll be quite the domestic disturbance."
 
Nathan shook his head,

"In the end, you can die like everyone else," he said simply, "If I'd given you two more, this would be a very different scenario."

And if he'd hung onto Graverobber's throat for a few seconds longer in the graveyard a few weeks back it would have also been a different story - just a little more time and he could have caused irreparable damage to the scavenger. Though, he couldn't be sure he hadn't done so, given that a majority of the time Graverobber behaved as though he wasn't getting enough oxygen to his brain anyways.

Nathan's eyes moved to the doorway where Shilo had left through only moments ago,

"The day she finds out," Nathan said flatly, "Will be the day I die."

He turned his head back to Graverobber and found the other man staring at his throat; he could actually feel the gaze on his skin and it felt so obscene that he self-consciously tried to pull his collar higher, despite the knowledge that he wouldn't be able to make it cover the bruise.
 
â??Thatâ??s a little melodramatic. Been watching the genetic opera too much, have we?â?

Now this was the Nathan he liked, not that he had much to complain about the one that had attacked him on the couch last night. But this one who responded so negatively to sexual advances, this one intrigued him, made him want to touch until he reached some random limit and he got slugged.

So maybe he did act like he wasnâ??t getting enough oxygen.

Mawkish statements aside (and even those had their charm coming from Nathan), Graverobber was becoming almost fond of the older man. Very few people, after all, were this interesting, he told himself, fingers reaching out to touch the bruise. The wrinkled cloth of his collar brushed against his knuckles, cold compared to the skin beneath. Especially where the skin was bruised.

â??Why donâ??t you,â? he said pleasantly, eyes flickering up to the door. â??Go close that and Iâ??ll show you how recovered I am.â? Oh, he knew that would probably be the end of this conversation at the best and the reason he was kicked out at the worst, but he couldnâ??t help but try and spread that blush further, make the oh-so-very proper father squirm if he could.
 
Graverobber was successful in his endeavor; the flush spread to Nathan's cheeks and over his nose, and he hesitated only for an instant before yanking away from the other man. There it was again, that infuriating brush of fingers, skin to skin, heat and life that made Nathan think of things he had kept suppressed for too long, and for an instant, Nathan - not Repo - considered locking the door and doing things to Graverobber for several hours. All of their aggression and lust over the past few weeks had put Nathan on edge as he forced himself to remain perpetually unsatisfied, refused to indulge any further than the teasing and rough bites, as he found any reason he could to get away from the other man when they got too close to actually - going through with it.

So Nathan was tense, moreso after the previous night when it would have been so easy to have his way with the other man, when they'd both been eager and lusting, it would have just been so easy -

"Stop it." Nathan snapped, "You don't learn, do you? I don't want this. I want you to dissappear, do you understand that?"

Lies. Lies. They were all lies, because the last thing he wanted was for Graverobber to go away, he wanted to do terrible things to the other man, and it frightened him.

"I want this to be over." he said.
 
Graverobber sat back, an overly pleased smile twisting his lips. His expression was almost cruel: he knew Nathan was lying. Knew it in the same way he knew that Nathan was clawing up some infinitely high wall to try and escape this but he just kept slipping back down. Heâ??d seen this before: some junkie that tried to get better, that went to every meeting of the Zydrate Support Network, that wanted, with all their heart and mind, to be well, to be free.

He was patient. He always waited. He didnâ??t even pressure them, not in any obvious way.

And they always came back, always slipped back down into Hell. And always with only the very slightest pressure from himself. Heâ??d made it an art over the years, using only the bare minimum of force to direct his lost sheep.

Even gave them a discount for trying so hard, and because that certain mix of loathing and relief in their eyes at that first hit made his insides curl in a way he felt nowhere else. Save now, with Nathan.

â??If you wanted this to be over,â? he said, after a few moments of silence. For as much response as he had given Nathanâ??s words before, they might as well not have been spoken. â??You would have killed me earlier.â? Graverobber leaned forward to place a finger on Nathanâ??s stubbled jaw, putting just the slightest amount of pressure to direct his face towards him. â??Lying is very naughty.â?
 
For a moment, Nathan looked almost guilty, like a child who had been caught doing something awful; his eyes flicked down, avoided Graverobber's. Just the other man's words, the barest touch, and he felt his own pulse picking up - a horrible, delicious thudding in his temple and throat that made him feel warm all the way down his spine and made him sick with himself for his own inability to just end this.

Because, ultimately, Graverobber was right - he could have killed the other man dozens of times before, he could have effectively ended his life and ended the problem, but every time the chance presented itself, he couldn't bring himself to do it; when he spoke again, his voice was rough and harsh, it was Repo's voice:

"You're more interesting than most of them," he said, "There aren't many out there who can compare in sadism without actually ripping someone apart."

Nathan visibly shook it off, shoving Repo back down, and he leaned his head back to get away from the touch again,

"Find someone else to torture." Nathan said, fiddling with the stethoscope in his hands, "You've got customers who are interested - use them for your amusement."
 
Hearing Repo come from Nathanâ??s sleep-mussed form so suddenly sent a shiver down his spine. Graverobber wasnâ??t quite sure if he should be pleased or terrified that the night surgeon approved of him; that bothersome little voice that he had thought he had strangled to death whispered that he should be ashamed, that this man was sick and hurt and he shouldnâ??t aggravate the situation.

It wasnâ??t so hard to just push that little voice under a mental laundry basket and climb on top of it to keep it quiet. Though having sympathy rear its ugly head like that was infuriating: heâ??d thought, after all, that heâ??d gotten rid of it and here Nathan managed to rouse it from wherever it was that consciences slept when they werenâ??t being used.

â??Iâ??m not interested in them.â? It was a simple admission, but completely true. His costumers bored him: he watched the same, tired puppet show every night. The colorful, gaudy nightlight was filled with repetitive, ugly greys in his mind, dead in a way that even corpses didnâ??t manage. And it wasnâ??t even just his customers: everyone was dull. â??Besides. Itâ??s such a waste that a handsome man like you should just rot away in this house.â? He didn't reach for Nathan, now, instead watching the rather endearing display of nerves as he fidgeted with his tool, the obsessively clean metal invasive in this old-fashioned room.
 
Nathan sputtered for a moment at the bizarre sincerity in Graverobber's voice, and he twisted the stethoscope around his fingers, his expression stuck between one of confusion and misery; he plucked up his glasses from the bed where Shilo had left them and put them on, adjusting them and running his fingers anxiously through his hair, pushing it neatly into place. Slowly, bit by bit, Nathan was adjusting his clothes and his appearance to achieve his usual level of obsessive, exacting cleanliness,

"I have a child to take care of," Nathan said finally, "That's why I'm in this house. That's why I'm - here."

She was the reason he bothered to breathe.

"You need to find a new hobby." he added.
 
â??Seeing that quite a few people have two or three kids, I imagine you can rear children and still have sex.â? Graverobber ran his tongue along his lips, that same crooked smile on his lips. Nathan composing himself just made him want to molest the well-kept doctor even more, unfortunately.

Maybe he did need a new hobby. This desire to disrupt one manâ??s calm couldnâ??t be healthy.

â??Besides,â? he added slyly, reminding himself that Nathan was simply prey. This was a game; he was not at all concerned for the man's actual welfare. Not at all. â??Surely youâ??ve been distracted. Youâ??ll take better care of your kid once this is out of your system.â? Last night's slip, where he had asked for him to sleep in the bed, that had been selfish. It was to keep him warm and to highlight Nathan's loneliness. That was all.
 
"Most of them don't have similar career paths to mine." Nathan replied promptly; no, most of those mothers and fathers would spend their days in an office sitting for eight hours, filling out reports and drinking their coffee, talking to eachother around water coolers, going on lunch breaks and generally being - normal. Then they would go home to their kids and make dinner, watch the television, and ask about school. It was simple.

But Nathan couldn't remember a time where his life had been simple, and Graverobber's presence only -

"You complicate things." he said out loud, standing now, looking off at the wall, the floor, anywhere but Graverobber; the other man had brought up feelings that Nathan had suppressed for many years, had awakened a part of him that he had been certain had been destroyed, and now getting rid of the aching need inside of him felt impossible - but he couldn't just give in to Graverobber.

"I can't help feeling that your interest is due to the fact you're emptier inside than I am." he said flatly.
 
â??You should be grateful.â? Graverobber knew about what was considered normal, and he detested that more than boredom. â??Normalâ?? meant you pretended that everything was okay, that the world hadnâ??t gone to shit and that people didnâ??t bleed to death in the streets, that the garbage man that came by and took your trash away didnâ??t also sweep up bodies so you didnâ??t have to see them. People like himself and Repo, they were at least honest.

When he stood, Graverobber thought, for just a moment, that Nathan would flee. But, no. The man didnâ??t have the heart to run just yet. Instead, he tried a hand at understanding his tormentor.

â??Is that so, Nathan?â? The thief sat back and crossed his arms as if settling down for that story he requested last night. â??And weâ??re do get that idea from?â? he asked, leering. â??You could always try filling me, if you like.â?
 
A visible shudder passed through Nathan at Graverobber's words, the familiar heat shooting down his spine at the low tone, a sensation he had come to associate with the scavenger - it seemed that now, all it took was a few words from the other man the start that bizarre heat inside of him, a fact that was at once concerning and relieving. Concerning because of who was causing it, relieving because it meant that his job hadn't killed every human part of him.

"Because you spend your time following a broken old man," Nathan replied, finally looking at Graverobber; it was the first time he had acknowledged it out loud, but he was aware of how he was viewed by those who actually knew him, including the Largo family,

"Seeing how much further you can pry open wounds," he added, "To make you forget about how mundane and meaningless your own life is - but maybe I'm just humanising you."
 
He was very fond of that little shudder and pleased to see it showing up with some frequency now. In the beginning, that would have earned him a rather nasty smashing into the pavement or the side of an old building. Now it got him all of Nathanâ??s attention, and Graverobber couldnâ??t help but feel satisfaction at see those mismatched eyes turned on him.

Maybe even more so than the pain lurking in them.

That realization should have sent warning bells shrieking in his head, but he couldnâ??t help but lean forward again. â??Very good, Nathan,â? he said, baritone voice warm with pleasure. â??But I was telling the truth when I said I found the â??broken old manâ?? attractive.â? He cocked his head to the side, ignoring the ratty, rainbow hair spilling over his shoulder still half tangled from sleep. His gloves had disappeared sometime when he had been tied up, and his fingers couldnâ??t help but move, taking in the soft cloth. â??You distract me and Iâ??ll distract you. I think itâ??s actually quite a good deal for you, considering the amount ofâ?¦â? His eyes flickered over Nathan, through him. â??â?¦ Baggage you bring to the table.â?
 
"Yes, well," Nathan said, uselessly shifting the lapel of his jacket where it had rumpled in his sleep - he tugged at it irritably, trying to smooth out the wrinkle, trying to ignore the way the other man's eyes were roving over him, taking him in; he forced himself not to think about the possible - attraction - that Graverobber claimed to harbour. He wasn't sure he could trust the scavenger, couldn't be sure it wasn't part of a sadistic plan to just deepen some wound.

"It doesn't become baggage until someone else knows about it, and you had to dig for it," he said, giving up on the lapel now; the Largo family knew his dark secret, but he couldn't bring himself to count them; in fact, the entire sick family seemed gleeful about his past,

"So you know enough to understand you should stay away, I suggest listening to logic for once. I have to go make breakfast for my daughter now; if you feel like eating before I toss you out, I suggest finding your way down the stairs." Nathan said, and headed for the door.
 
Once Nathan was gone, Graverobber decided heâ??d best take advantage of the manâ??s hospitality for as long as it would last. He didnâ??t head down immediately, preferring to take a shower (as dirty as he tended to be, he did like being clean when he could swing it and the water heater lasted longer than the sorry thing in Rayâ??s building) and work through some of the tangles with a comb he had found digging through the drawers. He was at least polite to not use Nathanâ??s tooth brush, though he certainly considered it knowing it would probably send the man into convulsions; instead he used his finger.

Even then, he felt cleaner than he had in a long time, the abundance of hot water letting him get warm right down to his bones. And wash away the remains of his activities: unlike Nathan, he had no qualm about relieving the tension in a less traumatic way than a cold shower and was doing the better for it.

Unfortunately, the only clothes he had were those he had come in and he figured that the father would kill him for parading naked in front of his baby girl, so he came down to breakfast in yesterdayâ??s rumpled clothes, long hair still damp from the shower. It was a strangely domestic scene to come into a dinning room that smelled of cooking and cleaner, with said little girl sitting at the table with a large book on bugs out.

It was damned surreal, in fact, as he took his seat next to her. "Light reading?" he said, arching an eyebrow at the detailed pictures of insects. Not the sort of thing he expected to find in front of a seventeen-year-old girl.
 
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