ooc.
TRALALALALALALA. ALL ABOARD THE DRAMA-TRAIN. DESTINATION: ANGST LAND.
ic.
It was embarrassing, really. He really did feel as though he had managed a great deal of progress. Instead of thinking of her a million times a day, it was only a half million or so. He didn't spend his waking hours remembering missions they'd gone on together, feeling the satisfaction they both earned when the assassination went off without a hitch. For hours after the two of them returned triumphant, Dahmer would reflect on the pros and cons of their choices. He'd enjoy the deep happiness that would take root in him and last for weeks after the mission, petering out a few days before they set out again. Sherlock was always more verbal when it came to celebrating. She would discuss the finer points of the adventure; delving into specific descriptions of the problems that arose along the way and recounting the solutions she came up with to save the day. Dahmer would graciously give his friend the spotlight, preferring to stick to the sidelines, a little to the left and hidden in her shadow. It never bothered him, at least not at first.
Now, instead of replaying these memories through out the day, he only viewed his favourites before falling asleep. And even then he wasn't as bad as before – his thoughts used to keep him up half the night. Now, he'd recall one or two before drifting off to sleep. His slumber would last through the night, erasing his evening brooding so that when he woke up in the morning his mind would be blissfully clear, without any sign of the storm from the night before. That was all over now. He could tell, even in the middle of the day that tonight was going to be hell. It took just one look from her to cause the memories to come crashing in to his mind, joining together to make one hell of a storm cloud. He shook his head distractedly, trying to dislodge the hateful memories before they took up a permanent residence in his head once again. What did he need the memories for? He had the real thing haunting him, right here.
He had to give Sherlock a little credit, at least. She had the sense to look guilty for at least a second. He read the emotion on her face, hungrily snatching it up with his angry gaze – hoarding it along with the other scraps of decency she'd thrown him throughout their friendship. The male was like a squirrel, saving these looks in order to survive the harsher moments of their relationship. Why, if he waited a few more years, he might even have enough to last him the whole winter!
But that was it. Just a small look that lasted a few seconds before she moved on to some other thing. Probably thinking about some puzzle that had been bothering her earlier, something that just demanded her attention. He did get some satisfaction out of this, though – he could tell she realized just how dangerous he could be. Not that Dahmer would dream of ever hurting his friend. The thought almost made him sick. It was still good to know though, that she was able to understand (if even for a second) that brains weren't everything. Brawn held a respectable spot in the grand scheme of things as well. And if he really did decide that he had had enough of everything and really wanted to hurt her – well, her words wouldn't do a thing, would they? A bitter thought indeed.
Several minutes of almost complete silence had passed. Nothing could be heard but Dahmer's angry breathing and the echo of his angry words. He was about to wind up for round two, when Sherlock finally responded. She caught his gaze with hers, reeling him in as she offered up an explanation. He nodded slightly, just to show that he was listening, even if he didn't really want to. Not at first, anyway. But when she began he couldn't help but let himself hope, as usual. It started out promising, anyway. She sounded so sincere and to give Sherlock credit, the female probably was – at least, as sincere as she was capable of being. When his former partner was finished, Dahmer let out a large sigh. He considered her words carefully and didn't find them too wanting. At least she admitted that she liked his company, whether she felt it was his job to entertain her or not. But the intention seemed pure enough. They could work this out, right? The male's thoughts returned to earlier – attempting to figure out the logistics of her staying. He was about to suggest that she stay in a den he knew of. It was a few minute's walk from his current home. He had spent a couple of days hollowing it out before finding his current situation. The den was nice, just not as good the one he possessed now. But it would be fine, if only to sleep in at night. The suggestion was on the tip of his tongue when he saw it. That god damn look in her eyes. The look that said she had absolutely no interest in the words she was speaking. Or at least didn't see the point in them. She didn't think there was any reason for her to be apologizing. She was annoyed about it!
Instantly, his fury was back. Dahmer drew himself up again, and for a moment, it honestly looked as though he would haul off and deck the black wolf before him. Pale eyes bore into hers, cold with fury. His lip was curled back in a snarl, giant teeth glinting in the afternoon sun. All was silent and he really didn't know if he was going to resort to violence – but instead of lunging at her, the male merely took a step back. Fuck you, Sherlock. Just....fuck you. He turned away and did not look back. Thanks to the adrenaline and the fury coursing through his veins, Dahmer was able to shift to his halfling form. It took concentration, and he'd have to rest back at home, but it was worth the speedy getaway it allowed him. As he dropped to all fours, and began to run, he tossed a parting wish over his shoulder: Go home, okay? And then he was gone, streaking through the trees.
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