Double Trouble

The b!tch had bite, Vito would give her that- though he would not actually give her the satisfaction of hearing him say it aloud- a venomous bite, which he soon realized as her words sunk into Vito’s skin, and he could not contain the rage that began to boil his blood. Was she trying to anger him? Was this women trying to push him off of his edge?

There had always been a far darker creature hiding behind Vito’s brown eyes; a rage that he had managed to keep caged within the human body he had created for himself for as long as he could remember- but it was always rearing its ugly head, threatening to tear Vito in two and escape through his center. He was a poltergeist who'd been created out of what he assumed had been hatred, and therefore, he had chosen to deny this fact when he'd resisted the blood lust that his creator had installed him with.

Though, even as his chest burned with rage, Vito resisted the urge to wrap his fingers tightly around her slender neck, digging his fingernails into her skin as her lungs slowly deflated… oh how he desired it, but as he began to flex his fingers as his sides, burrowing deeper into her eyes with his own, Jack’s voice rung clear and suddenly in the room, echoing off of the walls of his ears as loudly as it would have been had she shouted at him.

“Vito, stop insulting her for a moment, please. Seeing as it looks like your hands are still attached,” she’d said, but it had taken his mind a great deal of effort to make the words understandable to him. Stop insulting her… Vito thought to himself, the scowl that his mouth had formed curling upward slightly; Jack was completely unaware of the instincts that were screaming within his skull, commanding him to extinguish the excruciating fire that had taken over his ribcage.

“They are still attached to my wrists because I 'died',” Vito replied, his words sharp and bitter. Slowly, Vito turned away from Khaat, separating his merciless eyes from hers for the first time in several minutes. They had looked quite like two wolves preparing to attack, staring each other down, waiting to see who would move next.

He took a seat in the armchair near Jack’s bed and rested his crossed ankles upon one of the chair’s arms.

He had been in such a good mood before Khaat had decided to intervene...

“You may leave now,” he informed her, making certain to get a word in the second Jack had finished speaking, "I did not save her in order to kill her in a hospital; that would be far too anticlimactic for my taste."

"You, I am not concerned with," Khaat said to Jack, not taking her eyes off Vito. It was clear that Khaat and Vito were not going to be a match made in heaven, and Vito didn't like her one ounce better than she liked him. She watched him sink into a chair. Clearly being dead/undead--whatever he was, wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

She heard Michael's voice behind her. "Difficulties, Director?"

"No," she said firmly, glaring at Vito. "I have it under control." She looked at Jack, "Don't overdo." She turned and left. She knew that she had made her point with Vito, and there was no point here in pursuing it any further. She had no doubt that she would at some point, run into him again. She wondered what that might be like.

"What was that about?" Michael asked.

"Eh," she sighed, swiping his coffee cup and taking a drink from it as they walked away from Jack's room towards the elevators. "Apparently I only have one piece of that story. But I did threaten to make him into a taxidermy experiment."

"Oooh," his eyes peaked with interest. "Was that before or after you pissed him off?"

"Um, after, I think," she said.

"Your father taught you much too well how to agitate, my dear," he laughed.

"What do you know about the undead?"

"Not nearly enough. Perhaps we should go consult your father."

"Good idea," she smiled, stepping into the elevator with him to go up to the administrative offices.

OOC: Ok, I think I'm out of this one unless you let me know otherwise!

((Of course. Thanks Khaat for saving my charrie! Lol))

Khaat was mad. Jack had not heard all of what had been said, but she knew that Vito was incredibly gifted at pissing people off to where they nearly blew up- she knew from experience, having blown up. "Thank you, Khaat," she said as Khaat walked away. She knew she would need to explain sometime, and she was not looking forward to that. It was never easy explaining Vito.

She looked over at Vito, and she almost pictured him as a pouting child, legs crossed, looking away, having just got caught bad mouthing someone else, being caught not play nice. Jack sighed a long slow sigh and slowly made her way over to the chair next to him, her hurt leg dragging ever so slightly. It hurt like a mother to walk on, but Jack showed no pain. She and pain were long time chums.

Jack carefully lowered herself into the share and sucked in her breath as there was a simultaneous shooting pain in her knee and then a stitch in her side. This was going to be fun the next few days, trying t get along without looking broken down and battered. Great, just great. First, she had a soft spot for werewolves apparently, and now she could be beaten up...

What would become of tough Jack?

She was sure to kick someone ass and right her image.

She turned her head to look at Vito. "You could, just once, decide not to make things more difficult than they need to be. You got what you wanted from her, there was no need to be completely dreadful. You could've used your manipulative charming thing... I've never seen stock in it, but it seems to work on everyone else."

“That is nothing but sex appeal, Jack, I don’t have the power to control minds,” Vito scoffed, resting his head against the chair on its side so to look at Jack as they conversed, “despite popular belief…” he added, and though he wished to continue scowling and grumbling, he could not fight the twitching of his lips which were caused by his own words.

Oh, what a twisted evening it had been- a twisted evening, Vito remembered suddenly; he had events to boats about.

“They put me in the morgue…” he began, rubbing his wrists absentmindedly as he spoke; the ghost of pain still lingered there, and it was quite difficult for him to keep from massaging them. “I have been in a morgue before, but never have I seen a place like that from the point-of-view of the dead,” Vito continued, his quiet voice serving the purpose of storytelling excellently.

As he spoke he could not help but think of the specific floor numbers, elevators, and hallways that he had seen that evening, and how entertaining it would be to take a tour of the large building on his own- though their were far colder reasons behind his interest in roaming about St. Mungo’s than discovering hidden floors. Khaat cared so deeply for the patients that St. Mungo’s was infested with, and Vito knew which floors would lead him to any particular type of patient. For a moment, there was a dark glint in his eyes as he shifted in the chair that he had chosen in order to stare at the ceiling.

“There was an employee on duty, but I”- Vito paused midsentence, as though he had discovered something within his mind that he did not know was there- “Wait, not once? Even when you were drunk, it didn’t work on you?” he asked, returning his neck to the position that would allow him to watch Jack’s facial expressions- though he did not stop to consider the expression that he wore, which was one of complete confusion. It was an expression that someone should have taken a picture of and saved in a photo album, for it was one that truly did not belong on the man’s face. In fact, it was rather amusing. “You aren’t Superwoman, I must have charmed you once- at least once,” he continued, bewildered; he had always been under the impression that no human being was invincible to his allure, and it was a terrible blow to his ego to find that his assumption had been wrong.

Jack rolled her eyes; there he was, going on about his sex appeal and whatnot. He might have been making an excuse, but it was a boastful one. He was skilled at that; you could go as far to say that he had sort of become an expert craftsman when it came to intertwining boasts and brags into even the most casual of statements. He could comment on the weather and make is somehow reflect how he was God's gift to the world..

Or well, Satan's...

At his next word, Jack's head snapped quickly to look at him, her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide. She knew they had assumed him dead but he had allowed himself to be taken to the morgue?! At first, her face showed only her expression of surprise and shock as well as a sort of incredulity- someone had stuffed Vito in a box and lived... Then again, she could not assume they had...

As he continued, however, her face morphed into an expression of shocked amusement, as though she could not believe it and yet it was incredible. What a story to tell! She knew the merits of a good story- she often entertained people with her own tales of her past adventures... well, she used to, back before she was loathed by the general population. So she felt herself leaning forward with intrigue.

Suddenly, he was derailed. She leaned back, staring at him with equal confusion, trying to figure out what he was asking. Once it dawned on her, she smirked. "That's where you're wrong Vito. I am Superman. Short prankster by day, superhero by night. And I have no kryptonite." She smirked, hoping the joke would completely derail him. She had never questioned the fact that she was not weak to him, just been proud to say she was not.

After a moment of pondering over the possibility that, just maybe he wasn’t as irresistible as he’d originally assumed, Vito came to the conclusion that Jack was lying. She had attempted to redirect his thoughts by tossing a joke his way, but the way in which she had done so had revealed her desire to lock the subject of Vito’s sex appeal away in a box, to bury it, and to never speak of it again. Vito, on the other hand, refused to let it go, as it was his physical appearance that they were speaking of. Vito lived for the rare occasions when he was the sole subject of a conversation, and was not being insulted in some way – rare, at least, when Jack was involved. Her supply of jabs and witty remarks towards Vito was no where close to being depleted, and yet, Vito could not remember a conversation that he’d shared with the female that hadn’t revolved around banter. It was entertaining, yes, but it did quite a bit of damage to Vito’s ego at times. He was, therefore, quite pleased to catch Jack feeling awkward during one of their exchanges, wishing to steer talk in another direction.

“Liar,” Vito whispered. He wore a devilish smirk as he spoke, and his posture had changed dramatically; he’d shifted in his chair so that he was no longer sitting there, but was lying there, looking quite like a mischievous feline. He’d arranged his extended appendages precisely, so to make himself appear flawlessly careless. Oh, what a contradiction – but every one of Vito’s movements was planned out ahead of time, so to make him appear as close to perfect as possible. There was not a moment when Vito was not thinking about how he looked in the eyes of those around him.

“I’ll catch you looking one of these days,” he informed her, knowing that the statement would make her feel uncomfortable. Vito flicked his eyes upward, staring at Jack through his eyelashes for good measure.

Remaining in that position, Vito continued on with what he’d been saying before Jack had so very rudely distracted him from his point, “I stole the employee’s ID,” he said, and lifted the identification that he wore around his neck so that Jack could take a look at it. “I can now waltz about this hospital as your surgeon, without being questioned,” he explained, hoping that she would catch on without an explanation; Vito did not plan on remaining in Jack’s hospital room all evening. He’d remembered every obstacle between their floor and the morgue below, and he felt that he deserved a bit of fun, after having saved Jack Dyllan from death.

Vito planned to make up for the wasted evening.

“There ain’t no rest for the wicked, love,” Vito informed Jack, inviting her to join him the best he knew how.

He called her a liar and she rolled her eyes, sitting back in her chair and looking forward- Vito had decided that every woman wanted him, and once Vito decided something, it was true to him- hell, it was self proclaimed law. She could sense him adjusting next to her and she turned around to stare at the painting of an ugly healer, knowing it would piss him off to see a warty old wizard getting more attention than he was.

At his words, she was quick on the uptake. She turned back around and then turned to face him, putting on a sincere face, even managing to force believable shyness into her eyes. "Oh, Vito. Of course I'll be looking. I'm always looking," she bit her lip, keeping up the charade before continuing on, adding, "For a way to escape." She smirked and then slumped in her seat, a cocky expression on her face. She looked back at him, resting her elbow on the armrest, her chin in her hand as she tilted her head. "'Cause, y'know Vito.. I normally don't notice this type of thing.. But you've been using too much cologne. It's breathtaking, but not in a good way- as in the fumes are bringing me close to death."

She smirked rather proud of that triple whammy- three statements that led him to think he was going to be complimented, only to have an underhanded sneak attack. She was fully aware, however, that he was going to be overly irritable now and she would have to be careful. "I will say, regardless of your cologne, you really did help me today. I've lost count, but I suppose I owe you now."

He began to speak and an eerie feeling overtook her.. What was he planning in that maniacal mind of his- nothing good, she knew. "Vito, I'm tired. I'm sure you are. Our wounds are healing, and too much exertion can cause permanent damage- internal and external." She hoped that would be enough. "Maybe it would be best to save the trouble for a time when we had not just nearly died?"

As Jack turned her attention towards an old portrait that hung from the wall, Vito’s smirk fell; though he was well aware that she had intended to irk him with the simple action, it got a reaction out of him just the same. There was an art to conversation, as any tasteful creature would surely say, and that art was not as it should be if eye contact was not made with the other being. It was a disrespectful action, looking away from someone as they spoke to you, but Vito knew better than to expect anything more than mockery from Jack. When they spoke with one another, their conversations most often consisted of banter and cheap shots at the opponent… The very least of it was an averted gaze. That was not to say, however, that Jack’s actions hadn’t had the desired effect; as time passed, and she continued to avoid his eyes, Vito began to grumble under his breath, frustration settling in.

At last, Jack responded to his words, and stepped back into the conversation, earning an expression of relief from Vito. He met her eyes, feeling in control so long as he had a lock on her facial expression. She began to mock him, putting on a good show as she played along with his previous statement. It felt natural; the response that he had received from her, and after such an eventful evening, Vito welcomed the chance to feel ‘in his element’ during one of their typical exchanges – until she stuck him with a particularly sharp remark.

“Now, tell me Houdini; how is it that you plan to escape me, when we are so evidently bound by the forces of nature?” Vito responded in the same, mischievous tone that Jack had used, but not without making a few adjustments of his own in order to prevent himself from sounding too much like her. Despite the sting that Jack’s remark had left behind - a very real hazard of narcissism - Vito hadn’t missed a beat when responding; there was a battle of wits to be won. “You and I are meant to be together, Jack. Fate won’t have it any other way,” he added, feigning sincerity.

He was falling behind Jack; apparently, he was not on the top of his game that evening.

Vito received yet another blow to his ego, courtesy of Jack Dyllan, and for the second time that evening his expression changed to one of pure disbelief. Vito had grown quite fond of the luxurious cologne that he wore, and had been told on several different occasions, by several different women that they too enjoyed the intoxicating scent. Jack’s claim was simply another lie, Vito assured himself, for he could find no possibility of truth behind her claim. “My apologies, Jack,” Vito spoke, though he was beginning to sound more bitter than mocking, “I’ll make certain to remind you whenever you’ve begun to stand as near as possible to me once again. What brought about that habit of yours, anyway? Is my pull truly that powerful?”

When Jack began to show signs of gratitude towards him for having helped her earlier that evening, Vito’s mood abruptly improved; he was not often shown respect by Jack, and it was for that very reason that he began to feel so empowered by her words. “No matter the score, Jack; you will forever be in my debt. That was decided the moment I first granted you permission to be in my presence,” he replied arrogantly, looking quite pleased with himself.

Vito slowly dragged his eyes in an over-dramatic, circular motion in response to Jack’s protest against his idea of a good time. He had planned to wreak havoc, but Jack would not have any of it. She mentioned his injuries, and he absentmindedly began to graze his fingers along the skin of his wrists once more; it had become an instinctive response to the subject. Rather than simply giving in to the deep-rooted exhaustion that Vito’s stolen body felt, however, Vito continued to put up a fight, “That woman stepped on my toes, Jack,” he informed her, referring to Khaat Lupin, “and I do not take kindly to such things. She deserves a good ol’ kick in the head. Perhaps it will wake her from her delirium; she must be thoroughly confused if she believes she can mock me without receiving anything in return.” There it was, the honest-to-God truth at last; Vito was thirsty for a settling of the scores with his favorite healer.

Jack sighed,saying, "Isn't that the point of my looking desperately for an escape? Obviously, it's been in vain, because have I ever been successful?" He continued on and she knew, for whatever reason, that his words were true, and the sooner they both accepted it, it would be better for them both. She shrugged, grumbling, "Yeah, well.."

She had seemed to severely and sincerely offend him about the cologne and she knew that the insults had been too much, she had slipped into the danger zone. She shrugged at his question, saying, "I assumed it had something to fate, pushing us closer and closed together, that whole deal." She was not putting up too much of a fight, letting him recover.

Ah and there was the motivation. She understood now what he wanted to do but that made her feel even worse- Khaat had healed them, she was an important witch, and she was close to Michael. How could she let Khaat be hurt by Vito. And if she asked him not to, he would just be spiteful and do it to see her get angry. She had to play her cards right.

She cleared her throat. "She did pretty much save our lives-- I thought you would be glad she doesn't expect anything in return, she might demand the score be settled if you press the issue." That did not sound like Khaat, but Jack wanted Vito to lay off, and she would say whatever would make him do just that. "Besides, she's from the Ministry. Her father's the Minister of Magic. Felix Barker hurt her and he's in Askaban now." She shrugged, hoping the weight of her words worked. "I'm tired, too," she said quietly, more for herself than anything.

It was evident that Vito's remark about fate had struck a nerve within Jack by the expression that she wore - and it pleased Vito. There had been truth to his statement, but Vito himself had not yet come to terms with that fact, and thus enjoyed the fact that he'd been able to get such a strange reaction out of Jack with a few simple, sarcastic words. He tilted his head to the side so that his head was rested against the arm of the chair that he was sitting in, and smirked at Jack as he listened to her reluctant reply. True to his nature, Vito added on to her statement, feeling the need to end that particular portion of their conversation with his words, rather than hers, "Fate must like you, if that is the case; I'm the only good person in your life." Perhaps 'good' hadn't been the word he'd been looking for - but the statement still sounded as Vito had intended; bold and arrogant. Vito did not have the patients for boredom; if he found an opportunity to be entertained, he seized the moment, no matter Jack's nerves, which he was sure to have stepped on.

Vito scoffed at Jack's comment regarding the supposed 'pull of fate'; while playing part in a game of wits, one did not simply repeat what their opponent previously stated... Vito was certain that Jack, of all people, was aware of said rule, and thus came to a rather bothersome conclusion; Jack was allowing him to win. He dragged the tip his tongue along his bottom lip absentmindedly as he thought; he'd nicked it during his squabble with his werewolf pals, and the stinging sensation that the injury was causing him had begun to irritate him - much as Jack was by making things easy for him. Perhaps she truly was as tired as she claimed to be... but even then, Jack had been the one to start the game, not Vito. "The least you can do is put in a bit of effort, redhead," he informed her.

At last, Jack addressed Vito's need to get even with Khaat, but she clearly did not agree with Vito. She always felt the need to make things confusing, over thinking what came instinctively to Vito, and at times, going as far as to make him over think his plans before carrying them out. In most cases Vito found that nothing good - at least, not for him - came out of Jack's habit of forcing human thoughts and emotions upon him, but that evening was quite different than those occasions, due to simple fact that Vito hadn't know of Khaat's connect to the Minister.

"The Minster of Magic," Vito echoed Jack, wearing a mixed expression of anger and realization; it had been because of the Minister that Vito's arms had nearly been sawed off, after all. He shifted in his seat abruptly and stood. "That son of a b!tch is the reason I almost lost my hands tonight," he hissed - and promptly swept his fingertips across his writs at their mention. "It would almost be worth it, to pull both of their heads from their necks..." Vito added, but the threat sounded quite empty do to the defeated tone that he'd used when speaking. Vito was not about to get himself locked in Azkaban for a pair of ignorant human beings and that was quite obvious.

After a moment of standing in the center Jack's hospital room, Vito stepped up to the bed, and fell onto the mattress in a graceful motion. He crossed his ankles and interlaced his fingers behind his head, staring upward grumpily.

"Too?" Vito asked, having listened to, and been confused by Jack's statement.