Probably smart. Given his mood, he'd have been perfectly capable of breaking the door down cartoon-style, leaving nothing but the outline of his body in the panel - and naturally, that was what you wanted in the middle of scalpel-palooza.
Robbed of a target, John dragged his sorry ass down to the Brother. They put you out here, didn't they.
"Nah. Just a cigarette break. "
Yeah, right.
Settling against the wall next to the male, John was tempted to give the back of his head a workout against the concrete, but he didn't want to risk making any noise.
It was too soon, he thought. Too soon for him to be locked out of yet another procedure of hers. Too soon for them to be fighting. Too soon for the tension and the anger.
Can I try one of those? he signed.
V cocked a brow, but didn't try to talk sense into him. The Brother just pulled out a pouch and some cigarette papers. "You want to do the honors yourself?"
John shook his head. For one thing, although he'd watched V's rolling procedure countless times, he'd never tried anything like it before. For another, he didn't think his hands were steady enough.
V took care of things in the work of a moment, and as he gave the coffin nail over, he flicked his lighter.
They both leaned in. Just before John connected the cigarette to the flame, V said, "Word of advice. These have a kick, so don't suck too hard - "
Holy hypoxia, Batman.
John's lungs didn't just reject the onslaught; they had a seizure over it. And as he coughed his bronchial tubes up, V took the offending item from him. Helpful - meant he could brace both palms on his thighs as he bent over and retched.
When the stars faded from his watering eyes, he looked over at V. . . and felt his balls shrivel up and hibernate in his lower gut. The Brother had taken John's hand-rolled and added it to his own, drawing on both of them at the same time.
Great. Like he didn't already feel like a pussy.
V held the pair out between his fore- and middle fingers. "Unless you want to give it another go?" When John shook his head, he got a nod of approval. "Good call. A second drag and your next stop's the wastepaper basket - and not to toss your Kleenex, true. "
John let his ass slide down the wall until the linoleum floor came up and caught his tailbone. Where's Tohr? He come home yet?
"Yup. I sent him to go eat. Told him he wasn't allowed back here until he had a sworn affidavit that he'd sucked down a full meal with dessert. " V took another drag and talked out the fragrant smoke. "I nearly had to drag him up there myself. He's there for you, for real. "
He nearly got himself killed tonight.
"Same could be said for all of us. It's the nature of the job. "
You know with him it's different.
A grunt was all he got in return.
As time passed, and V smoked like a big shot, John found himself wanting to ask the unaskable.
Teetering on the brink of propriety, desperation eventually threw him over the edge. Whistling softly so Vishous would look over, he used his hands carefully.
How does she die, V. As the Brother stiffened, John signed, I've heard you sometimes see these things.
And if I knew it was old age, I could handle this stuff about her in the field so much better.
V shook his head, his dark brows going down over his diamond eyes, the tattoo at his temple shifting its shape. "You shouldn't make any changes to your life based on my visions. They're just a snapshot of a moment in time - which could be next week, next year, three centuries from now. It's occurrence without context, not a when and where. "
With his throat closing up, John shot back, So she does die violently.
"I didn't say that. "
What happens to her? Please.