[Huffing, Oswald turns himself around with an awkward bounce and a few clicks of his crutch. He stares at Alfred like he’s been shaken out of a fever-dream, his eye too wide and too bright, cheeks stained with high colour. The bat hangs from his hand, dripping. He never counted on being interrupted, let alone by a man who is one wrong word away from tasting the very same bat. Oswald’s face twists up, livid and alive - and Bobby goes hysterical. The crotch of his jeans darkens with piss.
It’s Joel’s turn to watch in terror.]
‘Fucking Christ, I’m sorry!!’ [Bobby bawls, throwing every kind of promise and every kind of apology at Oswald and Alfred, Alfred and Oswald. It’s just noise, so much noise. Sets Oswald’s teeth on edge. And it’s then that Oswald realizes that this living waste of skin Alfred is presenting to him had managed to slip into his blindspot. Would have escaped him, just like Nyssa had.
It seems there’s still some justice in the world. A sad little pity-scrap of it that he’s supposed to snatch up and thank Alfred for. Oswald doesn’t. Not just because it’s Alfred, but because there isn’t a hint of Nyssa’s smugness in Bobby’s wet, snotty face. Not a damn thing that can let Oswald pretend, for even a second, that the heavy clunk of solid wood rocking bone is the sound her jaw makes, and not Bobby’s; that it’s her eye leaking like runny egg down her cheek, not Bobby’s; that this, any of this, is good enough. But he tries to make it things right the only way he knows how, and lays into Bobby with everything he has left. With all the force in his shuddering, failing body, meaty thuds turning wet, and every downswing driving desperate, broken cries from his own lungs. He heaves up the bat again and again, flicking blood into the air. Bobby lets go, fully pissing himself. He gurgles and twitches, barely human. Still, he lives.
The pain catches up to Oswald. His head feels light and he leans heavier on his crutch, sweat bearding his lip and soaking the back of his suit. His breath rattles on the inhale. He can’t stop now. But he can’t finish. Can't even do that much for Ed. The bat slips from his deadened fingers and clatters to the floor. He stares at it for a long time.]
...bring the gasoline. [He says hoarsely, his vision blurring over.]
oops, I fucked up the formatting in my last tag. shhhh
It’s Joel’s turn to watch in terror.]
‘Fucking Christ, I’m sorry!!’ [Bobby bawls, throwing every kind of promise and every kind of apology at Oswald and Alfred, Alfred and Oswald. It’s just noise, so much noise. Sets Oswald’s teeth on edge. And it’s then that Oswald realizes that this living waste of skin Alfred is presenting to him had managed to slip into his blindspot. Would have escaped him, just like Nyssa had.
It seems there’s still some justice in the world. A sad little pity-scrap of it that he’s supposed to snatch up and thank Alfred for. Oswald doesn’t. Not just because it’s Alfred, but because there isn’t a hint of Nyssa’s smugness in Bobby’s wet, snotty face. Not a damn thing that can let Oswald pretend, for even a second, that the heavy clunk of solid wood rocking bone is the sound her jaw makes, and not Bobby’s; that it’s her eye leaking like runny egg down her cheek, not Bobby’s; that this, any of this, is good enough. But he tries to make it things right the only way he knows how, and lays into Bobby with everything he has left. With all the force in his shuddering, failing body, meaty thuds turning wet, and every downswing driving desperate, broken cries from his own lungs. He heaves up the bat again and again, flicking blood into the air. Bobby lets go, fully pissing himself. He gurgles and twitches, barely human. Still, he lives.
The pain catches up to Oswald. His head feels light and he leans heavier on his crutch, sweat bearding his lip and soaking the back of his suit. His breath rattles on the inhale. He can’t stop now. But he can’t finish. Can't even do that much for Ed. The bat slips from his deadened fingers and clatters to the floor. He stares at it for a long time.]
...bring the gasoline. [He says hoarsely, his vision blurring over.]