Indiscretions

Who: Chelo and Rey
Where: Chelo's house
When: evening

The appetizer was as important as the meal, foreplay as crucial as sex... it was all about anticipation, in Rey's mind. He'd been in high spirits for days now, alternately coasting on good feelings from his night with Marguerite, eagerly curious about Mathias and Babylon, or just eager for this moment, this night. And the timing was probably perfect; if he couldn't hide this act amongst the werewolves' rampage, he'd do well to complete it in the aftermath, when the locals would be watching for inhuman beasts, not inhuman men.

Rey was walking the sidewalks where he'd met Marguerite, heading back along the path he'd mapped out towards Chelo's house, a cooler in his hand. It had almost everything he'd need for tonight, and whatever wasn't in there was in his coat. He was going to savor this, make sure the wretch of a woman understood her folly before she died, and use her death to push his brother into madness that only Rey could help him with. All of that made him smile in anticipation as he spied Chelo's house, lingering on the street as he watched the lights within. He'd do best to make sure she was nearing sleep before he approached, after all.

Routines were something everyone needed, Chelo included. She had a routine for most days, though it wasn’t as ingrained as some peoples’ could be. Not nearly. She had a certain way of doing things, but she wasn’t so set in it that she kept to it without wavering – she had to take into account normal daily variables after all. How long it took her to wake up in the morning, how her employees behaved, if she got to take an hour for lunch. Things like that, no matter how little, could change the schedule imperceptibly. Today had gone against the book; she’d been late for work, there’d be no lunch hour (she’d been lucky to take fifteen minutes), and some employees hadn’t show. Most likely beyond scared by the goings on in the town.

She was home now, though. The lights were on in her apartment’s kitchen, the television on, but muted, casting blue light into the living room. The show – cartoons, Tom and Jerry probably – were reflected in her windows. Chelo sat down on the couch, twisting her arm around so she could hook the blanket with slim fingers and pull it down on top of herself. There weren’t any plans for the evening other than to relax.

Lingering on the sidewalk, Rey glanced up at the window with a faint smile, close to licking his lips in anticipation. He was no sadist, but this prospect had him excited. He moved into the apartment, soundless despite his dress shoes as he moved up to Chelo's door, setting his cooler to one side of the door. Rey delved into his coat, producing a small stun gun and flicking it on, letting it hang in his grip behind his back as he raised a hand and knocked. You danced with my brother, whore. Now it is my turn.

Chelo could feel the feelings of excitement from Rey, though they were dampened due to the feelings of her next door neighbor as well. Living in an apartment it was hard to get a good lock on anyone's feelings, so Chelo usually didn't even bother to try. Because the sound was muted on the television she heard the knock easily and got to her feet, heading for the door and avoiding her basket of half-folded laundry. "Coming," She said, to ward off another knock should whoever was outside the door get impatient.

He took a deep breath, shuddering with anticipation as Rey tugged on a single glove, all he'd need to cover her mouth if Chelo tried to scream. But he didn't say a word as he waited, fingers dancing on the trigger of the stun gun. He'd have to hit her fast, juice her enough to send her into unconsciousness. Once that was done? Rey'd have time to set things up the way he wanted.

While she'd managed to avoid one laundry basket, she couldn't avoid the other, and she nearly tripped right as she reached the door. Chelo shoved the basket out of her path and it slid across the floor to hit the wall as she slid back the locks and pulled the door open. The smile on her face was just a bit confused as she tipped her head to the side, dark eyes curious. "Hello. Can I help you?" Was he looking for someone? A vague part of her almost recognized his shape, as she hadn't seen his face at the Masque.

Rey smiled politely, feigning a blink of surprise as Chelo opened the door. "Oh, excuse me!" he said, fighting his anticipation as he mused on his scenario. He finally understood Rafael's fits of passion; in the past he'd only done this sort of thing to cover up his brother's indiscretions, but now he wanted to. "I must've gotten the wrong door. Perhaps the wrong building entirely, no?" he suggested, playing up the accent just a touch. Doubtlessly, Chelo would pick up on the French hint when he spoke fairly quickly, so perhaps he'd have to change the plan to stall her with talk. "Then again, perhaps not," he went on without a note of eagerness in his voice, abruptly lunging out with the stun gun crackling in one hand.

She hadn't been expecting anything like that, and so her reflexes were not up to anything good. Sure, she tried to avoid the stun gun, but she wasn't as successful at it as she would have liked to be; she wasn't successfull at all. As the stun gun hit, confusion - her own, biting, forceful emotion - filled her. And beneath the confusion the thought ran through her that she should have - really should have - asked who it was before she had opened her door. Not surprisingly the thought sounded an awful lot like her father.

Rey laughed warmly as her limbs twitched with the current, bumping the door open wider. He reached out to grab at Chelo's wrist, keeping her upright in a pose not unlike dancing, jabbing the stun gun in again. He needed her incoherent for a while, long enough to secure her in a chair, but he couldn't have Chelo hit the floor either. A sound like that or a scream might alert her neighbors, and that would end his fun far too early. "I apologize for the lack of foreplay," Rey purred as he zapped Chelo the second time, "But a certain amount of sacrifice must be made, given the circumstances."

Her body told her to run, to get away, but the shock running through her kept her from doing what she wanted. The copper taste of blood filled her mouth as she bit the sides of her tongue - deep - instead of yelling out. Chelo made a strange sort of gasping, protesting noise, but there was no way that anyone would hear it outside of her apartment, as it was barely audible in the apartment itself. Her limbs twitched again and the strange, unfocused part of her mind mused on just how abnormal that felt as the rest continued to scream at her to fight however possible.

He wasn't generally a rough man, but Rey saw the need to be right now. If he kept zapping her, she'd be unconscious through all the fun. And he knew that if she had the chance, she'd ruin it all by screaming. He was quick to pocket the stun gun, winding his gloved hand in Chelo's hair and dragging her towards the sofa of her living room. Her disgusting little apartment living room. Even a rushed glance told Rey he was doing Rafael a favor here. He shoved Chelo's head down into the cushions, planting a knee between her shoulder blades to pin her there and yanking the roll of duct tape from his coat. Rey tore a length free of the roll, seizing Chelo's flailing arms and pinioning them up behind her back, quickly looping the tape tight around her wrists.

There were too many sensations now - Chelo's scalp was screaming from the pain of being dragged by her hair, her face was crushed feeling from being pressed into the cushions (though she quickly turned her head so she could breathe), and her arms were held and taped uncomfortably behind her back. She thought about his voice again, and again deja vu hit her like a brick, though she still couldn't play who he was, and she definitely didn't know why he was here. She hadn't done anything, as far as she knew, she thought, as she drew in another deep breath and tried to scream. Her mouth felt dry, though, and her throat seemed paralyzed with her fear, making her incapable of screaming no matter how she wanted to. Chelo fought against the hold on her wrists with renewed vigour.

Laughing at Chelo's burst of renewed struggle, Rey seized her bound wrists and pushed them up farther behind her, straining the shoulders in their sockets. "Fight me and suffer all the more, my dear," he advised, jerking the roll of tape in one hand to let another section fall free. Rey tore it away with his teeth, removing his knee from Chelo's back and twisting her over on the sofa, then slapping the tape over her lips crudely. All that was left was the legs, but if he knew this woman at all? She'd be the type to kick him in the face. "Or perhaps... simply suffer," he said, abruptly jabbing a gloved hand out to strike Chelo in the cheek, hoping to daze her long enough to secure her ankles.

The thought 'I should have screamed when I had the chance' ran through Chelo's mind as she did precisely what Rey had supposed she'd do, which was kick him. Sure, she was dazed, but it didn't stop her from striking out in the only way she had available now, which was with her feet. Glaring dazedly with dark eyes she drove the heel of her foot into the flesh of his thigh, right above his knee. She was tied - or taped - tightly, but she wasn't going to just give up and let him get her without a fight. She drove her foot into his leg again, slipping off of the sofa onto the floor in the process.

Rey grunted as he staggered off-balance, his leg buzzing with numbness and pain. At least she hadn't squarely hit his kneecap; it would make for a poor departure if he was screaming and hobbling. The slide off the sofa robbed some of the force of Chelo's second kick, and Rey was quick to hobble in before she could try to uncover her mouth. He kicked a hard-toed shoes against her ribs, lunging down to grip her neck and press her into the floor. "Were I a cruel man, you would have opened the gates of Hell with that gesture," he hissed, spitting on her cheek bitterly. "You would suffer... indignities, my dear girl. Violations you cannot even imagine. I am not, however. I am only here for the sake of family." He tugged his revolver free, pressing the point just above the spittle on Chelo's cheek. "Now... strike me again and I will not hesitate to end this meeting early. Understood?"

She wanted it - if it was to end badly - to end quickly. She didn't want a long, drawn out death if she had a say in it, not that she wanted to die at all. She didn't want to, but if she did have to, then quick was the way to go. She glowered upwards at Rey, eyes only a little bit questioning, and mostly annoyed. He made no sense, to her - it was for the sake of family? What did he mean?

Rey caught the questioning look in Chelo's eyes buried under the anger, and he laughed richly, tapping the barrel of his gun against her cheek idly. It would've been satisfying to just shoot her and let her die with her questions, but it was at least equally satisfying to let her understand. "My brother," he purred, studying her expression, "You should not have given him such hopes. Such... passions. Rafael is a fragile creature, and he satisfies his passions in ways you would die happier without knowing. He is my family, wretch... whether you knew the lines existed or not, they were crossed. You may not appreciate it? But I do you a favor by saving you from his embrace."

And just what did that mean? All of it? It didn't make sense altogether still, but at least she knew who he was - he was Rafe's brother. Rey, had it been? Apparently she'd displeased him simply by existing, and by drawing the attention of his brother. For some reason she got the feeling that drawing Rafe's attention had been the worst sin of the two, and that existing would have been ignored otherwise. Chelo moved her face away from the barrel of Rey's gone, her cheek throbbing a little from how the cool metal had dug in. "Wouldn't it be enough if I just stayed far from him from now on?" she muttered through the sloppy strip of tape, though she felt she knew the answer to that question already. No.

"He would not allow it,' Rey answered with a petulant note in his voice, relishing the way Chelo shied away from the gun and loosening the tape a touch more for her. "He is infatuated with you now, and I cannot have that. We have greater task to tend to, and Rafael's fervor must not be wasted on another pointless death, as yours would most surely be." He laughed coldly, jabbing the barrel back in. "There are forces at work you could not comprehend, girl, forces we serve. Your life, your dreams? They amount to nothing, and never would. if there was even the chance, we may have met much sooner, and under more pleasant terms. Take comfort in that," he purred, thumbing the hammer of his revolver back and grabbing a pillow that had fallen from the sofa. "Were you destined for even the hope of greatness, Rafael would have had his way with you. And I tire of covering his indiscretions, perhaps it is time to indulge one of my own," he added, guiding the pillow between Chelo and the gun to muffle the sound of the blast.

Take comfort in that, he said. Chelo almost snorted, glaring half-defiantly at Rey, though the trembling in her limbs belied the hear of her gaze. It was hard to appear as if she didn't care and as if she were just daring him to shoot her when she could feel herself shaking like a leaf. The thought rose in her mind to call out - should out - for help, but she didn't. She couldn't bring someone in that this man - this brother to a man she'd thought of as her friend - might shoot. He'd shoot her regardless, no doubt, and she'd have her death and anothers on her hands. Her dead hands. Oh, Lord, what was happening. "This is an indiscretion? Some indiscretion..."

Keeping his weight pressed down on his knee to pin her still, Rey yanked one of his slim blades free from his coat and pressed the tip against Chelo's neck. "It is the gravest of follies, you little piece of filth. In another era? I could have killed you openly for dallying with him. In this 'civilized' one... I give you a choice." He smiled in anticipation, wondering what she might opt for. "The gun will be quick, I promise. The knife? You will grow cold, drift to sleep, perhaps give me reason to withdraw and allow you a chance to survive. That is unlikely. But the choice? I give you that much in this scenario."

It was the cowards way out, Chelo knew this for a fact, but her dark gaze fixed upon Rey's finger where it rested against the trigger of a gun. There would be pain, and lots of it, if she went with the offer of the knife. Pain, and no certainty that anyone would find her after she went through it all. Cautious of the knife at her neck, Chelo breathed out softly, once, before answering his question. "The gun." She replied, though she didn't know if his promises meant anything. They were the promises of a man who wanted to kill her, after all, and what was particularly trustworthy about that? As far as she knew, nothing.

His smile curled wider as Rey sheathed his knife, reclaiming the pillow and pressing it to the top of Chelo's head, then guiding the gun down on top of it. "I hope you are not a faithful woman," he murmured, leaving her eyes unobscured. He wanted to see them when he pulled the trigger. "This option? It does not leave time for atonement in the eyes of your god." And then? It turned out Rey was telling the truth on all counts, from his intent to end her life to his promise to make it quick right down to his guarantee of just how quick. The gun fired once, a muted bark that was largely stifled by the pillow as it punched through and into the top of Chelo's head.

Before he shot her, Chelo looked unblinking into Rey's eyes, then closed her eyes. This was, without a doubt, the easy, coward's way out, but it still wasn't quite suicide. She hoped and prayed that that would count for something, and wished once that she'd had the chance to cross herself. That someone would say prayers over her. Whether or not they would, she didn't know, but this was it. This was her last breath. Death was instantaneous as the bullet drove through the couch pillow, and then, through her head. She thought no more, she was no more. Tension left her dead body and it slumped, slipping further towards the floor.

Quick in his actions now, loathe to waste time even if he wanted to savor this moment, Rey lunged forward to seize Chelo by the hair with a gloved hand and keep her body from thudding into the floor. It would be terribly silly of him to get caught now, after all. He eased her towards the pillow he'd fired through, letting her body go slack as blood pumped from the exit wound in the back of her head. With her settled, he worked quick to grab the cooler he'd brought along. Rey was steady as he rushed out a funnel and an empty bottle of wine, lining the two up together to guide Chelo's blood inside, then corking it. He returned both items to the cooler, grabbing a few tubes of paint next. Smiling deviously to himself as he uncapped them, Rey stood and scrutinized the dead form below him. How might Rafael approach this?

It wasn't that he needed an artist's eye, per se; more that he needed this tableau to be something Rafe could see himself doing. Which meant paint, some post-death bruises on Chelo's neck, and some pilfered trinkets from around her home. He had a deadline, sure, but Reynald Delacourt was a man who excelled under pressure. "My brother?" he mused alound as he squeezed a dollop of light blue paint onto Chelo's cheek and smeared it under his gloved fingers, "Not so much." Which was the point.