duplicitymemes | TDM #4 ( revised )

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«tdm

TDM #4 ( revised )

« « « TEST DRIVE MEME » » »

« « « HERE WE ARE AGAIN

It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit. Yet, solace is found in the lies we tell each other, comforted by the peace of knowing that we're not alone in our depravity, and once on this path, sin itself becomes the lesser of two evils masked in a cloud of normalcy.

This is how Duplicity has functioned since the beginning. The divide of power and social standing is overt in that Dominants influence the decisions made both publicly and privately while Submissives cater to the rules presented to them. It is the way of Duplicity to assign random designations at birth with no leeway in altering what has been given. Climate in the Up is far stricter than that of the Down; violating outlined personas for a Dominant or Submissive while in full view of others is punished by degree of infraction. In the Down, many tend to turn a blind eye to these sorts of offenses.

To counteract the discovery of the Deceit Gene – a natural "negative" response to all stimuli – the L.I.E.S. program was founded. The program had been designed to introduce new subjects to the current environment and test for the Deceit Gene through immersion in Duplicity's standing society. Sexual impulses and encounters increase the chances of detecting the gene within these individuals. Participants are typically released from L.I.E.S. after a year; however, results have remained unsatisfactory and testing still continues.

You’re here! Finally! Welcome to Duplicity.

After choosing a door and stepping through to the other side, the first thing that greets you are the enthusiastic faces of people in medical scrubs and pristine lab coats. Their enthusiasm translates to eagerness as they strip you of your clothes to perform a thorough examination—you will be healed, bathed, and given a paper gown to wear until your items can be processed and delivered to your residence later in the evening. You are also given a device that accesses the network as well as the time and location of orientation.

If you enter Duplicity into the Up, congratulations! You’re a Dominant, which means you are immediately picked up by a limo after processing and taken to your highrise. Here, it is two Dominants per floor with separate apartments. If you enter Duplicity into the Down, congratulations! You’re a Submissive, which means you are directed towards public transportation with the address of the motel you’ll be living in. Here, it is two Submissives per room with a shared common space for all rooms.

Enjoy your free time until orientation! Participation is mandatory by all new and old arrivals.

Oh, and one more thing. It's fucking cold. Better bundle up.

» » » LIES TRAVEL IN COMPANY

After stepping through the door and participating in orientation, LIERS are assembled together in the Up for a tour of Duplicity in its entirety. Seats are in pairs and randomly assigned to Dominants and Submissives alike. Traveling from Fiddler's Square, the train journeys through various parts of the Up, showcasing society and examples of lifestyle. Along the way, frequent stops are made; a variety of passengers can be seen exiting and entering the doors. A Dominant with a kneeling Submissive takes a seat near the front of the train at one stop. A small group of Submissives board and sit closer to the LIERS at another, all seemingly content in their roles. As the tour continues through the Up, the train passes close to the Market and White Wall Bridge and zips by North Park before heading into the Down and bypassing Red Wall Bridge and South Park.

The train makes a "final" stop at Riddler's Square, where inhabitants of the Down are instructed to return to their temporary housing. Those who live in the Up are permitted to stay on the train and revisit the same locations while returning.

« « « END IN THE DISCORD

While the societal climate between Dominants and Submissives remains somewhat neutral throughout Duplicity, there has been the occasional whisper of defiance and call for equality. Yet, demonstrations and visible proof of this unhappiness spreads faster by word of mouth on a day exactly when you need it most.

Welcome to Autonomy, a "traveling" nightclub that is never in the same place twice. People wanting to attend only learn of its lucrative location and password hours before it opens for business. Tonight, I choose the third door will get you inside and into the temporary freedom club Autonomy has to offer. In this circle, there are no assigned designations and no consequences for taking a role that isn't the one given by society. So, a Dominant may become the Submissive they've always wanted to be—or vice versa. Dominants and Submissives alike are able to mingle without repercussion and be themselves. Food, drinks, and private areas for more intimate – or if your preference is sexual – encounters are provided. Donations are accepted at any point during the night to further Autonomy's attempts of spreading the fulfillment that comes from being untitled.

On the night you choose to visit, Autonomy is holding a random lottery for temporary connections. When entering, you have the choice of submitting your name into this drawing to be paired with someone else in the club regardless of designation. A short while later, a message will pop up on your device with the name and information of your partner, and whether or not you choose to meet them is purely at your discretion. Having more than one connection isn't completely unusual either.

» » » TABLE IT FOR LATER

Gratification of being a successful Dominant or Submissive isn't necessarily simple. Learning curves are to be made, and mistakes will happen. Led by a Dominant and Submissive couple – Miriam and Victoria, who have been paired for twenty-two years – a monthly meeting for unattached Dominants and Submissives is held in the conference room of Morning Wood motel in the Down. The meeting starts a few minutes after nine and has no designated end time. The couple introduce themselves and explain the purpose of the meeting: learn the proper method for a new kink and possibly find your perfect partner. The space is intimate and well-stocked with refreshments.

To begin, Victoria, while blindfolded, balances on her hands and knees with her back perfectly level. Her partner, when ready, places various items on the level surface–a full cup, a plate. The Submissive is meant to hold the items until the Dominant believes she's reached her limit. The exercise is one of trust and understanding. The demonstration is a short one, followed by Miriam removing the blindfold and soothing her Submissive. The words are whispered low and with care, clearly a method that is specific to this couple. The process is concluded with the pair handing out workups, videos, and answering questions. Anyone wishing to practice Purposeful Submission can do so in the open room with a random volunteer, aided by the couple, or can find someone to take to one of the rented rooms. Sex may follow any scene but is not necessarily included. Experimenting with unattached Dominants and Submissives allows for new relationships to form.

« « « MOD & OOC NOTES

Please read carefully.

On each Test Drive Meme, there will be a section noting character roles based on birthdays; these will vary each TDM. On an IC level, character will still have gone through the doors but assignments OOCly are still randomized. When applying, there is a section of the application that denotes whether the character chose "left" or "right". When participating on the TDM, there will be a third option. Players may link either a top level or a thread (five or more comments from their character) from the TDM and title the link as "Door Pass". This means that the player is choosing to take the designation that they were randomly assigned on the TDM, rather than taking the designation of a door. If the player decides to select a door rather than use the pass, then they are trying their luck; they may get the same designation they had on the TDM or the opposite. Once the application is submitted, players can't change their choice.

To assign roles to characters for this TDM, use the following guide. All characters who have blue eyes or one blue eye and another color are Submissives. All characters who have brown eyes or one brown eye and another color are Dominants. Characters with any other color eyes are Dominants. To use this TDM as a door pass please link this on your app and place whether it is Dominant or Submissive.

Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have fun!!

» » » MAIN NAVIGATION « « «

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Good.

[ Asra's smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, made him look like a happy cat that might, at any moment, deign to purr. It lasted only a moment before he twisted, pulling a glossy black communicator from a back pocket. ]

Do you remember getting one of these? And if you did, do you have it with you? I'm going to teach you how to use it. Best to think of it like... a magic mirror from a fable: you can use it to see things happening from across a great distance, leave messages for other people without sending a letter, and-- the best part-- keep magical portraits.

[The question comes, and with some of that tight-wound tension finally having fallen away from him, Julian moves to fumble through his pockets, clearly searching.]

Oh, um...I have something like that...it's around here somewhere.

[Though as Asra seems to have correctly surmised, Julian hasn't worked out how to use it. Hasn't even attempted to, or even given it all that much thought since the moment he'd received it, if he's honest. He draws it out now, though. Lays it on the floor between them.]

There it is. Let's see this magic mirror, then.

There's a button to the side to activate it, towards the top here, [ He demonstrates as he talks, ]

And you swipe like this to activate it. It's pretty dizzying, and most of those little pictures are purely nonsense... but this one here, that looks... like a boxy cloud, I guess?

[ He taps it, and enters in his own number as 'Asra', goes to quickly type a message where Julian can see, playfully mimicking the doctor's mode of speech, 'hello dear, you are indeed the best and i owe you precisely three drinks'. Sends it to himself, and demonstrates how it appears on his own device. ]

See? Instantaneous communication. And look, how wonderful Ilya, you called me the best, and agreed to take me out!

[He watches attentively, and to be honest it all seems a bit fiddly and irritating, but he is listening at least--

--and admittedly the potential for instant conversation - no letters, no messenger birds and all that - is quite fascinating. He leans over and blinks at the message, slides on a crooked grin.]

That's cheating, you realise.

[Asra does do a good job of mimicking him, his pattern of speech, and he moves to take back his own device now, means to examine it a little more thoroughly.]

But would you look at that, instantaneous communication. I could invite you for drinks whenever I felt like it.

[Which also means Asra could turn him down whenever he felt like it too, but never mind that part.]

Cheating? Of course it isn't, don't cast aspersions, doctor!

[ Light and bright and teasing; he shifts one foot, using it to nudge one of Julian's knees. ]

You could, and you'd better. One would think this whole crazy place was made to just... concoct ever-more reasons for people to drink.

Okay, okay, now it's your turn! Write me something.

[The bright curve of his smile remains, and for the moment there's something so expected and familiar in all this that it pushes all the convolutions aside - the convolutions of this place, the convolutions between him and Asra - turns them to small and quiet things.]

I'll say. I've wanted nothing more than something strong and nefarious since the moment I arrived. But all right, hold on...

[And he endeavours to copy what Asra just showed him, albeit with rather more muttering and mistakes made, wrong letters knocked and typing slow. It's quite different from simply writing things out after all...and even then his handwriting is largely illegible.

He gets there in the end though, and the message comes through moments later. 'Thanks for helping me out with all this. I really do owe you a drink or three, once I'm able to do so.']

There, I think it worked.

[Because thanking Asra this way, it seems rather easier than to say it aloud.]

[ Asra read the message... and his toes curled in his shoes. His smile was small and tight and deep, crinkling the corners of his eyes, making his dimple deepen in his cheek. ]

It worked! See, nothing to it.

Set it down between us. I'll give you more than just the way to contact me. But Pasha, too, and her contracted man. My dominant.

After that, I'll show you the way to just that sort of place. I've already thought of a game to play, once we're there.

[It always had been a pleasant thing, those moments when Asra smiled and he saw, or imagined he saw, something warm and genuine in it. What it all means now, the way things played out between them and everything that's come and gone in between-- well. Perhaps just for the moment it can all be ignored, stored carefully and quietly away until later when he's more settled and able to think this through.

For now...Julian's eye moves quickly over the magician's face when he says the words my dominant, and there's a flash of mixed feelings in him then, emotions he doesn't know quite how to name.

So he doesn't. Just for now, for today, wants to keep everything as simple as he can.

He places the device down between them once again, as requested.]

A game, is it? Well, then. You know I like a good game.

[ The magician's eyes lock with Julian's, over that one word. Oblique and shuttered, revealing nothing. They both knew that the black line on Asra's throat was opposite to is nature.

And then, with a smile, he turns to the task at hand. Asra's not only had long enough time to acclimate to the technology; but a good deal of actually proficient help in learning what to do. He transfers the contacts in a quick succession of moments, before pocketing his phone, offering Julian's back, and rising lithely to his feet, elegant and smooth as the arc in a wave. ]

I do know how well you like a good game~

[ He smiled and waved Julian to follow. ]

[Their eyes lock, and there's nothing there to be read in the magician's gaze that is as still and as silent
as some hidden pool, but also just as deep. Nothing there, but yes he knows it, and while there are things he wants to say he doesn't trust himself to say them correctly. Getting things wrong, making mistakes-- that's what he does.

And so when Asra rises with his sunlit smile Julian moves to follow, unfolds his unreasonably long form and once again gains his feet. Device pocketed and cape carefully straightened, he arches a brow in a question that he isn't sure will be immediately answered.

Makes to follow, as bidden.]

An adventure it is, then. What fun.

[ Asra pads nimbly back the way they'd come-- through the shabby mirror and into the hotel's equally shabby hallway-- and gives his hair a toss, smoothing his shirt, before resuming the path toward the stairwell, taking them two at a time. He grins back over his shoulder, ]

This place, it's a little... maybe even a lot.. like that shady tavern back home. It's called the Smog Cutter, and is...

[ He waggled a hand, ]

You know. The lower element, and within staggering-distance of the rooms here in the Down. When I first came and was in a hard way for it, I used to be able to make some easy pocket money or free drinks with knife tricks.

[And Julian follows just a few paces behind, tries to ignore and push down the sharp stab of concern (pain, the glimmer of a desire to take it from him and onto himself instead, something he knows isn't wanted and yet it resides in him all the same) that rises up unbidden in him in the wake of Asra's words, when I first came and was in a hard way for it. For now he bites it down, says nothing-- there's nothing he can do about it besides, even if Asra would allow it. It's something already done and gone, like so many other things.

And so he focuses down onto the parts that he likes, the parts the magician knows will appeal to him.]

Shady taverns and lower elements, eh? Asra, you're in danger of spoiling me.

[ Asra laughed, the sound soft and smooth and warm as velvet, stepping onto the last landing with a tight dancer's spin, to face the taller man. ]

Ohhhh, only in danger of it? I'll need to try harder, in that case...

[ He backed in neat steps through the door which opened in the lobby, one arm reaching out at the perfect moment to open it before he ran into it, and he about-faced to breeze through the lobby with a cheerful hello to the attendant at the unkempt desk. They exchanged surface pleasantries while Asra led the way out to the darkened sidewalk. ]

Besides; I know that if our situations were reversed, you'd do your best to spoil me, too. Consider it a fair play at pre-emptive turnabout.

[He throws the magician the curved arc of his smile, follows him smoothly through the lobby and out into the street beyond it. It's an ugly place, dim and damp with an overall air of dilapidation, worse than some places Julian has been, perhaps better than others. Despite the distinct lack of elegance, he's already sure he could abide it.

He has, after all, endured many things.

But for now his attention is on Asra, his white cloud of hair and the outline of him something delicate and bright amidst the squalor, and in response to what the magician says, Julian holds up his hands and spreads them out before him, an admission of defeat.]

Ah, you've got me, there. Naturally if I was in a position to do any spoiling, I would. Later, maybe.

How would you spoil me, doctor?

[ He sing-songs it, slipping along the sidewalk like moonlight over water, ducking a tight right-turn down a narrow alley that dripped with moisture and was rank of mold. Two men smoking in the recess of a doorway looked up at their passage... and then down again, to their own murmured conversation.

Asra ignored them. He'd been right about one thing: it was indeed within stumbling distance of the hotel where new Submissives were being kept. Past a few flickering or dead streetlamps, a ramshackle building with a crumbling facade covered in layers of poorly-executed tagging and spraypaint art. The name, 'Smog Cutter' had been fashioned out of rusted car and motorcycle parts, hung like an ominous machine over the heavy, windowless door. The one window not boarded up had a blinking neon light which advertised only, 'cold beer'.

Asra was so distractingly a fish out of water in such a setting that he seemed almost luminously bright against the darkness, and the glow of the neon cast lurid tones over his skin as he knocked on the door. A few bolts slid aside on the door's other end, and the door was cast open by a lean, weasel-faced man with short, greasy black hair and black tattoos crawling up his neck, cleaning out a glass with an off-color rag. The bartender.

'Two usuals?' he offered with a laugh, pausing his cleaning of the glass to throw an arm around Asra, waving the two in... shooting a curious look at Julian, looking him up-and-down as if trying to place him in his memories.

All the other patrons-- and there weren't many-- had echoes of the same tattoos as the bartender, black designs crawling up their necks. One brawny man in a denim jacket leaned back to wolf-whistle appreciatively at the trio as they passed. Asra only laughed, and slipped up to the bar which the bartender stepped behind, hopping onto a stool too tall for his height, and patting the one beside him. ]

That's right, two usuals! But... mm, put some ice in mine. Julian, this is Getty, Getty-- Julian.

[How would he spoil him? The question comes and hangs there in the fetid air between them, and for a moment Julian falters after a response because he has to wonder, suddenly, if he even knows what Asra likes, how he'd want to be spoiled, given the choice. Because Julian likes to spoil the people he cares about, he likes to pay for things and open doors and sweep them off their feet only to kneel at them a moment later, to ask for their pain to be played out on his flesh. It's a form of giving, but it's also taking too, and he wonders now, as he has before, just of late, how selfish that had been. Whether he'd made assumptions based on what he wanted, whether he'd ever stopped to think.

That last part, at least, he's sure he knows the answer to.

His lips finally part around an answer just as they draw up to their destination, the building so near dereliction that it probably ought to have been condemned and the truth is that it's perfect, exactly what he needs tonight. And Asra's bright lithe form is slipping into the building before he's had a chance to grasp the words he's looking for and so he follows him inside, smiles wide but vague at the bartender, at the whistling man as they pass by (he looks big and somewhat dangerous, and Julian makes a mental note of that, for later), and he supposes that Asra's answer will just have to wait.

Asra hops with mesmerising fluid grace onto the tall stool, and Julian slides onto the one beside him, a better match for his far longer form.]

A pleasure.

[Another flash of his winning smile and after the introduction is made he'll wait for the bartender to busy himself with the 'two usuals', whatever they might contain. He turns back to his companion then, though his eye doesn't quite meet the magician's gaze.]

How would you want me to spoil you?

Pleasure's all mine! [ Said the bartender with a laugh, and a deeply cheeky smile. It's the easy, light flirtation which comes with the service industry in such a rough... world. Nevermind the place in it they currently occupied. He turned, then, reaching up on the shelves for... some distressingly blue liquid in an unmarked glass bottle.

And then about twelve others, dashing each liquor in turn into two tall glasses. At the question, Asra blinked up at Julian, and smiled, shrugging, ]

Make us dinner.

[ Said without a blink of hesitation, and with such conviction that it's clear Asra at least has thought about it more than once. He set his chin on the curve of his palm, feet swinging idly. ]

Or tea, if it's a small spoiling. It's... between you and me?

I drink it so much partly because it reminds me of my mother. What I can remember of her, anyway. But sometimes when it's an off-day, the memories all come up in a bad way and I just... can't.

Even when I know I want the taste and I'll feel better if I do it, my hands just... shake. Shake so hard, with my ears still full of the sound of her screaming when she was taken.

So... it's always special, when someone does it for me, and especially when they know how I like it.

[Out of the corner of his eye, he takes note of the bartender's ministrations, at least until Asra begins to speak. Toxic-looking mystery drinks? His favourite, consider him in.

But then Asra does start talking, and what he asks for is...so small and simple that he wonders at it. Make him dinner, or tea. No grand gesture required, no elaborate over-extension of the self. Just that small thing which Julian realises with a pang that he's certainly never done, not even the tea, and he had at least realised it to be something Asra likes.

The revelation comes next, and Julian watches the magician with an expression made unreadable by his own mixed emotions-- it's just not very Asra, to come out with something so open and honest and frank, with something that runs deep, or seems to. And the usual urges are there in him, to do something big and dramatic like sweep from his stool and engulf Asra in an embrace, tell him he's prepared to do all kinds of things - anything at all - to spare him from that kind of hurt again, despite all the hurt he still feels over the way things had played out between them but--

--but. That isn't what he's asking for. Very slowly, Julian reaches out a hand, fingertips brushing ghost-like across the back of Asra's knuckles before dropping away again, uncertain of where he stands, what he should and shouldn't do, how familiar he ought to be. He takes a breath.]

I, um, consider it as good as done. Just as soon as I have the means to do it. Or if you're, you know, having one of those days then uh, just send me one of those messages, on that device-thingy. I'll come over and make it.

[ Asra.... smiles. Looks down at the small brush of fingers along the back of his knuckles and smiles, an expression more in his pale eyes than the subtle curve of his mouth. His voice, when he speaks, is just as subtle as that expression, little more than a whisper. ]

Now who's getting spoiled...?

[ His smile twitches wider, and he turns to Julian, poised to say more, lips parting after a furtive brush of his tongue wet them-- but then the bartender is pushing forward two tall highball glasses to each of them, and then delicately setting miniature fold-out umbrellas atop each, nestled along the neon-colored plastic straws already pressed in and held in place with modest amounts of crushed ice. The drink itself looks like a magician's potion, cerulean-blue along the bottom fading up into sunset-pinks and oranges at the top. 'Two usuals' the bartender said with a laugh, as if he enjoyed the absurdity of it as much as Asra. They traded winks and a gesture so fast that it was quick to miss, or mistake for something else; two fingers touching the bottom end of the lines on their throats.

Asra wasted no time pulling his forward, and laughed, picking up the paper umbrella, ]

Look, mine has lotus flowers on it! What sort of flower does yours have?

[ He popped it back into the drink and sucked a shallow sip through the pink straw. ]

Alright, a game! I'll explain the rules, and then we'll place bets-- if you're still in?

[And there's something there, almost, isn't there? A density in the air that speaks of something left unsaid and Julian waits for it, unable to guess, his gaze intent on the magician's mouth and then--

--the bartender arrives, slides their drinks towards them, fusses with all the little extras and Julian lifts his to the smokey light in dubious appreciation. It does appear almost like a magical potion, like no drink he has encountered before and whilst he's not too sure what to make of it, he intends to drink it anyway. Only out of the corner of his one visible eye does he see it, the liquid winks, the touch of fingers to throats but what he ought to make of it, in this moment, eludes him. Little inside jokes perhaps, or small signifiers of something more, intimacy...or something else.

But that particular moment breaks against the bright music of Asra's laugh, and Julian's eye is drawn to the patterns on the ridiculous delicate little umbrella.]

It's uh...I'm not sure, actually. If it's something not used in medicine then I'm afraid I'm not much use. Here...

[And he plucks it from his drink between two long and slender fingers, holds it out for Asra to see for himself, even as the magician's question comes.]

And naturally, I'm still in. I like a good bet, now and again.

Ohh, that's a chrysanthemum! See all the many curly petals? They're good luck!

[ He flicks his tongue to wick a small bead of moisture away from the wooden tip of the umbrella, and twists in his seat, threading the end through a button-hole in Julian's coat, so that the bright patterned paper hung there like a flower. ]

The game is: two truths and a lie. You say two truths and one lie, in whatever order, and the other person has to guess which is the lie. We'll have in front of us what they call here a drunkard's rainbow, a number of shots each with a different liquor.

If the other person guesses correctly, then you drink a shot! If the other person fails to guess correctly, they have to drink. The first to get to the end of the rainbow... or to pass out trying... is the loser!

Oh. I see. Lucky, is it? I could probably do with some luck.

[Though one could see him as terribly unlucky, or too lucky for his own good, depending on how one chose to look at it. He's left quietly charmed as Asra tucks the umbrella into one of his coat button-holes, charmed in a way that could easily lead to pensiveness and dwelling (something he is so very good at) were it not for the instructions that follow. Attention diverted, he arches a brow whilst taking a sip of his poisonous-looking beverage, feels the satisfying burn of strong liquor as slides down his throat.]

Hah, that's the stuff. And darling, it sounds as though you want me horribly drunk. If that's the plan then I concur, it's a good one.

[Words followed up by the flashing blade of his smile.]

Who's going first?

[ Asra took a far longer drink of the concoction before him, pale brows arched at the other man, playful.

Despite looking like a potion made by a mad magician, the drink balanced a tropical sweetness-- mango and pineapple-- against a stunning amount of layered liquors, blue curacao and rye whiskey tempering what might have been oversweet otherwise into something pleasantly balanced.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, something about spending a season and a half in a place like this had helped him along a transformation into an altogether too-adventurous lush. ]

Ah-ah, not so fast! Bets, remember.

I bet I'll win. Or drink you under the table, whichever comes first.

[ He's got a competitive gleam in his eye and just... sips at his drink again before adding, after a sufficiently dramatic pause, ]

And if I win, I get to dress you however I want for a weekend.

However.

I.

Want.

[It's a day for surprises, it seems. This isn't quite the Asra of his memories, but then time changes people, wears their edges into different shapes the way the ocean wears on sea glass, and he thinks (hopes) he isn't quite the same person he'd been three years ago, when they'd pushed and pulled at each other in ways that had led to deep-running wounds as they'd come apart. And to have been here half a year, forced into a position that is all wrong for him-- some level of transformation is an inevitability.

But it's not altogether a transformation he dislikes.

And the truth is he had let the betting part side from his mind, eclipsed by the desire for temporary mental obliteration, and with the reminder comes more surprises that leaves him slightly, vaguely flustered. Because there's subtle drama and quiet emphasis and really he has to wonder what exactly Asra has in mind, the kind of thing he'd make him wear if he were given free reign over his wardrobe for two days.

It might have been cause for larger concern, if he didn't think he could win.]

Oh, um, well, that sounds ominous, but--

[And here he smiles again, bright and entirely confident.]

But I doubt you could drink me under the table, I'm practically twice your height, it'd take twice the amount.

[Which he's aware is flawed logic, but.]

More importantly, though, what do I get when I win?

[Because one should begin with the certainty one intends to go on with.]

[ Half a year. Vesuvia feels... lifetimes away. And every new discovery makes it feel further, and somehow... less real.

He never should have broken into LIES. Never should have kept pushing, kept studying, kept--

He smiled, the expression sly and sharp. ]

It's meant to sound ominous. Maybe I'll find something especially hideous, with an awful... hat or something.

[ That insufferably sly look only deepened, his lashes low, and he leaned to take another looong drink. ]

I told you what I wanted as a prize, now you tell me what you want as a prize. But you probably shouldn't even bother, because I am definitely winning. You might be taller and bigger, but you probably haven't slept well-- did you even get a chance to eat, today?-- and on top of all that you're probably stressed, dehydrated from the cold...

I'm practically playing with a stacked deck.

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