"Uh-huh." Barty was neither convinced nor impressed. "I'll only talk to you, darling. And I'll only talk when I feel like it."
Simple set of rules, Barty thought. "And if I talk to anyone else, they might end up not liking it. So hopefully I won't have to." Didn't seem like the worst deal, overall. His eyes drifted to the camera, thoughtful.
"Bill isn't yours. And he's fine. He spoke with my boss already, he was happy to help." He wasn't. He cried when he realised Jack had talked him into so many loops that he gave up Barty's location. He felt bad for Bill, they wanted to get him back to London but he'd run off first chance they had. He was probably somewhere in Cardiff still.
"Well, for the most part. He's... he's a trouble lad. I'm sure he'll be fine, he's just sensitive." It was complicated and he didn't need Barty judging him for doing his job.
"You said he can be my friend. Bill wouldn't mind me saying it. Stop projecting." Not everyone was repulsed by the idea of being associated with him. Barty's brows furrowed, because he could tell when Sam was lying. Of course he could, Sam was a terrible liar. "You don't still have him."
He sure hoped so. "He'd have been more fine if your group hadn't interfered. You told me to let him go. I didn't know you wanted me to let him go so he can be used."
"That's not-- I didn't know, I--" Fuck. Jack was watching too and while he knew that Sam deeply disapproved, he wasn't about to run his boss down. "It wasn't a decision I was part of and I was unaware but Bill ran off first chance he got before we could help him. I wanted to get him back to London, free of charge."
It didn't get to happen. Bill had cursed them all out, cried, yelled, broken a few light fixtures and once he was let out to get some air, he took off running. "And I'm not projecting, just don't call people 'my'. It hits a wrong note." And yeah, rubbed him the wrong way.
"Some things are simply true. However wrong they sound to your ear, Sam." Barty moved closer to the edge of the cell, until he couldn't move any closer to him. He licked his lips with a quick flick of tongue, looking at Sam. This feeling inside, he could never help it when he looked at him. He wanted to love and be loved in return. Why was that so wrong?
The way that he looked at him, the way their eyes locked and how he licked his lips, it just sent that horrible shudder deep into him. Sometimes being with Barty was nice, special, like a lovely dream and sometimes, it was like an all consuming nightmare. The fact that he could be both was what made it so horrifying. He looked at him and felt himself leave his own body for a few moments as he just tried to ground himself.
"I shouldn't be." His eye twitched. "There's that my again. I hate it. Stop saying things like that. I'm not yours in any sense."
"You can't make me not feel for you. Trust me, I can't make myself either." Barty shook his head and then, suddenly, realised something. "I didn't mean that!"
There was some franticness now as he tried to explain, hands on the walls of the cell. "I didn't mean it. You don't have to trust me!" He rubbed his face, cursing. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! I didn't-- This doesn't count! You ca-- Fuck!"
He turned away and paced a few steps before turning back, looking as calm as possible. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry."
"Oh, you never fucking mean anything, do you?" Sam snapped as he came closer and glared at Barty, unable to remove the horrible feeling that came over him. One wrong sentence and he'd end up his bitch all over again. And then what? "If you fucking cared, if you felt anything for me, you'd want to help. You'd help me sort this mess out!"
And yeah, he gestured at Barty because he was a fucking mess. "Tell me how to stop you, let me stop you and then maybe, just maybe, you can be a fucking person because you're not a person right now! You're a fucking monster!" He didn't mean to lose control either, he was just too on edge and maybe he wasn't mentally ready for this. He was crying and he didn't know why, all he wanted to do was fucking hit Barty until he just stopped. Stopped forever. Until he could be fucking normal.
Barty stepped back until he hit the wall, wrapping his arms around himself. He hadn't meant it and he'd apologised. Sam didn't want to give him a chance. Just called him names again. The only person he'd ever loved. He wanted Sam to stop crying. He wanted Sam to be happy. He wanted to stop feeling like crying himself.
He was angry too, like Sam. Angry and sad and unable to think of anything good to say. Anything that might not cause more trouble. "I don't know."
Now, that was the truth. "I don't bloody know."
He stared at the ground and hated a lot. "I didn't mean it."
Sam knew he probably shouldn't have said what he said. He was unprofessional and idiotic. He looked at Barty for a long time before breathing in deeply. "Sorry." Fuck. "I-- I'm not helping, this isn't..."
He held up his hands, shaking his head before he headed to the door, hastily exiting and slapping the door shut behind him.
With his head in his hands, he cried out in frustration. What the fuck was he supposed to do here?
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Simple set of rules, Barty thought. "And if I talk to anyone else, they might end up not liking it. So hopefully I won't have to." Didn't seem like the worst deal, overall. His eyes drifted to the camera, thoughtful.
"What did you do to my Bill?"
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"Well, for the most part. He's... he's a trouble lad. I'm sure he'll be fine, he's just sensitive." It was complicated and he didn't need Barty judging him for doing his job.
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He sure hoped so. "He'd have been more fine if your group hadn't interfered. You told me to let him go. I didn't know you wanted me to let him go so he can be used."
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It didn't get to happen. Bill had cursed them all out, cried, yelled, broken a few light fixtures and once he was let out to get some air, he took off running. "And I'm not projecting, just don't call people 'my'. It hits a wrong note." And yeah, rubbed him the wrong way.
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"You are my Achilles heel."
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"I shouldn't be." His eye twitched. "There's that my again. I hate it. Stop saying things like that. I'm not yours in any sense."
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There was some franticness now as he tried to explain, hands on the walls of the cell. "I didn't mean it. You don't have to trust me!" He rubbed his face, cursing. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! I didn't-- This doesn't count! You ca-- Fuck!"
He turned away and paced a few steps before turning back, looking as calm as possible. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry."
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And yeah, he gestured at Barty because he was a fucking mess. "Tell me how to stop you, let me stop you and then maybe, just maybe, you can be a fucking person because you're not a person right now! You're a fucking monster!" He didn't mean to lose control either, he was just too on edge and maybe he wasn't mentally ready for this. He was crying and he didn't know why, all he wanted to do was fucking hit Barty until he just stopped. Stopped forever. Until he could be fucking normal.
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He was angry too, like Sam. Angry and sad and unable to think of anything good to say. Anything that might not cause more trouble. "I don't know."
Now, that was the truth. "I don't bloody know."
He stared at the ground and hated a lot. "I didn't mean it."
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He held up his hands, shaking his head before he headed to the door, hastily exiting and slapping the door shut behind him.
With his head in his hands, he cried out in frustration. What the fuck was he supposed to do here?