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Alright, Harry Osborn.
[He takes a seat on the bench beside her, then glances over with a little grin.]
Please. And thank you.
[He takes a seat on the bench beside her, then glances over with a little grin.]
Please. And thank you.
So no one getting what they want is the best outcome? How fucked up is the inside of your head, anyway?
[Not that anything could really change the situation, but Petre's actually enjoying it. He's guaranteed that John will never, ever give in, and he's enjoying it.]
[Not that anything could really change the situation, but Petre's actually enjoying it. He's guaranteed that John will never, ever give in, and he's enjoying it.]
[Harry Osborn. He's still new, so that's a challenge.]
Five-hundred dollar bowl-cut crackwhore.
[Or not.]
Five-hundred dollar bowl-cut crackwhore.
[Or not.]
Damn, that one's harsh. [He's still grinning, though.] He's actually a good time, don't write him off too fast. But I think five hundred bucks is lowballing it on the hair.
If you can't take the heat, don't start the fucking fire.
[she's smiling. Not at him, just at her own sense of satisfaction. She writes everyone off.]
[she's smiling. Not at him, just at her own sense of satisfaction. She writes everyone off.]
I don't even feel heat. If I did, it wouldn't be offense on anyone else's behalf, trust me.
[Which is why he's not asking about Ryan. He can get a bit strange and protective about Ryan, and he's not even willing to admit that to himself, never mind show it to anyone else.]
So if Harry's not the vampire - you mean Petre?
[Which is why he's not asking about Ryan. He can get a bit strange and protective about Ryan, and he's not even willing to admit that to himself, never mind show it to anyone else.]
So if Harry's not the vampire - you mean Petre?
[To which she rolls her eyes.]
Okay, special snowflake. Welcome to the fucking kingdom of every other snowflake on Earth.
[She's picking at her hair again. Not a nervous habit, just... a habit.]
Don't know. The Russian guy. He's been buttfucking half the school since he got here.
Okay, special snowflake. Welcome to the fucking kingdom of every other snowflake on Earth.
[She's picking at her hair again. Not a nervous habit, just... a habit.]
Don't know. The Russian guy. He's been buttfucking half the school since he got here.
And you're an idiot.
[He's finally been pushed far enough to break the lock on a secret he swore he'd never tell. That's how much he needs leverage right now. This time he's the one who leans in, whispers in Petre's ear.]
You almost had it. You were just so drunk that you can't remember, and now you can't make good on any of it because every time you open your mouth, you make things worse for yourself. But keep it up. Keep feeling superior 'cause you're digging your own grave. That really is the best part.
[And he makes to walk away, sure that for once, he's struck the ultimate blow.]
[He's finally been pushed far enough to break the lock on a secret he swore he'd never tell. That's how much he needs leverage right now. This time he's the one who leans in, whispers in Petre's ear.]
You almost had it. You were just so drunk that you can't remember, and now you can't make good on any of it because every time you open your mouth, you make things worse for yourself. But keep it up. Keep feeling superior 'cause you're digging your own grave. That really is the best part.
[And he makes to walk away, sure that for once, he's struck the ultimate blow.]
[Well. That makes the smile fade, even if it just gives place to mild puzzlement, because he's pretty damn sure he can remember the night in question. He really must have been drunk if there's any detail from that mess he's missing.
(It's the wrong night. He doesn't even think about it, but he's got the wrong night.)]
What on Earth are you talking about?
(It's the wrong night. He doesn't even think about it, but he's got the wrong night.)]
What on Earth are you talking about?
Not my fault the fire joke went south on you. That's why I tell people to just not make them. Better for everyone involved.
[He snorts, covering his mouth with one hand.]
Romanian. Yeah, that's Petre. This is one ass he'll never get to, and he knows it damn well, but thanks for the warning. Good to know someone's looking out for my honour. [Still just barely stifling the laughter that really wants to come out.]
[He snorts, covering his mouth with one hand.]
Romanian. Yeah, that's Petre. This is one ass he'll never get to, and he knows it damn well, but thanks for the warning. Good to know someone's looking out for my honour. [Still just barely stifling the laughter that really wants to come out.]
Think hard enough, you might get it. [He pauses, glances over his shoulder.] Won't do you any good now, but it'll be something to keep you occupied in the shower.
Yeah, you keep saying that until he mind controls you into bending over and saying 'yes sir, thank you sir'. I'm just glad he's a flaming unicorn.
[A RUSSIAN UNICORN]
[A RUSSIAN UNICORN]
[This is too good. Finally, finally Petre is off-balance, and it really is true that the scene holds no power anymore. Even if John gave in then, so many nails have gone into that coffin since that saying so won't mean shit.
He walks back up to Petre, cups his cheek gently.]
Petre - I've never needed anyone. I need you.
[Then he laughs harshly and turns to leave again.]
He walks back up to Petre, cups his cheek gently.]
Petre - I've never needed anyone. I need you.
[Then he laughs harshly and turns to leave again.]
[He feels the stab, though he doesn't know where it's coming from. Eyes shift down at his hand when it reaches for his face, and he doesn't react save for the parting of tense lips. It doesn't even make sense, and John's spilling it out like it's the greatest weapon he could have ever used against Petre. He actually gets back on his feet, not to watch him leave, but to make sure he's staying.]
You never said that. [And if that's not enough, he's saying it again.] You never said that.
You never said that. [And if that's not enough, he's saying it again.] You never said that.
You did. [And sure enough, he does stay, turning around once more to jab a finger at Petre.] You did, and I ate myself inside out over it for ages, because I had no fucking idea what it meant or if it was even true. But it was true - it was just another sick chunk of your mind that I didn't know how to process yet.
All you need is to control me. Maybe I'm the only thing you actually feel like you have control over, because doing it with your mutation makes everything else worthless. Well, now you've got the control, but you'll never get anything else. I hope it's worth it.
All you need is to control me. Maybe I'm the only thing you actually feel like you have control over, because doing it with your mutation makes everything else worthless. Well, now you've got the control, but you'll never get anything else. I hope it's worth it.
[It's plain to see on Petre's face just how much he's liking this - less and less by the second, by the passing of each word coming out of John's mouth. He can't possibly mean the night they spent together, that'd have to be one elaborate lie to play on the memories he does have, which means -
He's playing the memories he doesn't have. Of the night he met Jon and came back to the room drunk. He'd asked about it, he remembers, but he never thought he'd - actually have done anything. Maybe make a pass at John, but talk to him like that? And make John believe it?
No. He wasn't in possession of himself. For the first time Petre recognizes that, and it makes him feel sick. He needs that control back.]
No. [It's just plain denial in a word.] Why would I say that?
[What did you do.]
He's playing the memories he doesn't have. Of the night he met Jon and came back to the room drunk. He'd asked about it, he remembers, but he never thought he'd - actually have done anything. Maybe make a pass at John, but talk to him like that? And make John believe it?
No. He wasn't in possession of himself. For the first time Petre recognizes that, and it makes him feel sick. He needs that control back.]
No. [It's just plain denial in a word.] Why would I say that?
[What did you do.]
Apparently you can only feel things properly through me. [He never would've dreamed that it would be such a pleasure to spill this all out. Even now that he knows it's Petre's lies, just watching his reaction to them makes John feel about ten feet tall.] Sociopath, that's the clinical term. But I give you some kind of conduit, and you want me to help you figure it out.
Anything yet?
Anything yet?
[Sociopath. That's a term he's only discussed with his counselor, one he's more convinced he should be diagnosed with than otherwise, even if they never disagreed. Their description of someone incapable of feeling the same way other people do, incapable of processing cognitive situations with any empathy - that's what he is. He's known it for a long while, now, he's just never bothered to discuss it with anyone else. Anyone who could use it against him.
But now, he finds, he is very much feeling this. It's a nervousness that translates into anger. Fear, maybe? Fear of humiliation. There's nothing that might concern John there, just the worry of what else he might have heard from a mouth that didn't know what it was doing.]
I told you that. While I was drunk.
But now, he finds, he is very much feeling this. It's a nervousness that translates into anger. Fear, maybe? Fear of humiliation. There's nothing that might concern John there, just the worry of what else he might have heard from a mouth that didn't know what it was doing.]
I told you that. While I was drunk.
It's so much better if it's true. You'd get that better than anyone. A good lie can freak someone out for awhile, you'd know that too, but the truth - that really makes them fucking squirm.
[Now his smile's almost playful.]
I'm not lying, Petre. That wouldn't be half this much fun.
[Now his smile's almost playful.]
I'm not lying, Petre. That wouldn't be half this much fun.
[There we go, he's trying to get the power back. And maybe John will let him have just a little.]
Nothing. Didn't get a chance, 'cause that's when you kissed me.
Nothing. Didn't get a chance, 'cause that's when you kissed me.
[He jerks out of reach, takes a step back. The whole point of this is that he not be pulled back into it, that he stay above it, and Petre's not ruining that by replaying the whole scene again. No touching.]
Yeah. Twice. [He glances off to one side, as if vaguely nostalgic.] All that sweet-talking, how could I resist? But you still thought you'd made it happen, so then I kissed you to prove you hadn't.
[Let him chew on that for a bit, realize how badly he's fucked up.]
Yeah. Twice. [He glances off to one side, as if vaguely nostalgic.] All that sweet-talking, how could I resist? But you still thought you'd made it happen, so then I kissed you to prove you hadn't.
[Let him chew on that for a bit, realize how badly he's fucked up.]
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