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“Nothing?” He pretended to ponder that for a moment, tapping a finger to his lips in false contemplation as he glanced at the ceiling. “No, that doesn’t sound right.” He took a lazy step forward as he met Isabel's eyes with an easy going grin. “There must be a better word for a beautiful woman who keeps choosing to sleep with me.”

As he stepped forward she leaned back as far as she could without the edge of the bed knocking her onto her butt. She always hated when he did this, hated how easily he threw her off balance and that he knew how easy it was and took full advantage.

“I'm not-! Choosing to-?! No. Nope. I don't wanna play this game.” ]Shaking her head and working her jaw again she made a move to sidle away from him and make a break for the door. That was it, she was done with that nonsense. She'd already spent way too much time entertaining the conversation so far. “I need to be drinking more right now. Or never again. I'll decide after I start with being more drunk.”

Really? After everything they’d talked about she wanted to- no, no that wasn’t going to happen, if for no other reason than her liver needed to recover. Taking another step while the girl was shaking her head he lifted her chin with one hand and pressed his lips to her before she could finish talking.

Several moments later when she failed to push him away he drew back. “Still feeling thirsty?” He asked with a grin.

His hand hit her chin and she was just barely aware of throwing her arm around his neck to keep herself from falling backward as what little space remaining between them was abruptly closed. Her brain went all staticy and the next thing she knew she was catching her breath as he pulled away. It took another moment to process what he said.

“Enough to try drowning!” she shot back, just a tad more breathlessly than she liked. Quickly she dropped her arm and made another attempt to slide away. “You always do that! Stop doing that or I'll drown you too!”

---

Mirroring Isabel by shaking his head Simon’s grin turned wry. Had she honestly not learned or did she just not care? More likely it was the latter, but it wouldn’t hurt to remind her. “That’s not much of a threat Issie; we both know where this goes if you start drinking…” He reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, making her pause and letting his hand slowly trail down her cheek to cup her chin once again. “Are you sure you don’t want a kiss?”

Folding his arms behind his head as she took the phone Simon gave a simple shrug. “Oh, nothing much.” His tone deceptively calm as he watched Isabel's amber eyes dart between him and the images he knew were scrolling across his screen, she’d be getting to the ‘good’ ones any moment now. “Just a chance for you to have fun without getting in trouble, interested?”
“That depends on what you consider fun.” Her eyes narrowed as she split her attention between his face and the phone, watching his expression while at the same time trying to make sense of what he was showing her. Without context it didn't look like much, especially in quick glances. He was obviously building up to something that he thought would catch her attention, but if he expected her to care he’d have to cut to the chase.

He gifted the girl a quizzical look, had she really not- ah there it was, her eyes had stopped flickering back and forth to stare intently at what he knew were brief clips of decidedly bloody fights on his phone. “I was thinking, death, destruction and mayhem?”

'Death, destruction, and mayhem' were decidedly unlike Zephyr to be offering as any kind of incentive, and especially not as a reward, but her suspicions were starting to wane as her attention shifted more fully to the clips playing in her hand. An odd, brutal thing to have stored on a phone, however it piqued her interest. The conversation seemed to be headed somewhere rather intense. “...Keep talking.”

Rolling his eyes as Isabel's own refused to leave the screen he gestured vaguely with one hand while he spoke. “Did you know that on the other side of the rift blood sports were rather common?” Something to do with mutant warlords coming to power rather quickly in third world countries in the early 80’s and wanting a way to make money off of possible competition and find potential enforcers, but he doubted Isabel cared for that. “Everything from basic pit fights in simple arenas to team death matches in abandoned towns, all broadcasted across the world for enjoyment and profit in areas where the law is far more… flexible.

Seeing the soubrette finally look up from his phone and had clearly put two and two together, he didn’t bother to hide his smirk when he saw the excitement slowly grow in her eyes. “Given that the rift world isn’t too far removed from our own, when I heard about this I decided to see what there was in our world, and while it isn’t as extensive in this reality it still exists.” Continuing as though he were merely speaking of the weather he ticked off items on his fingers. “Tournament duels, Survival Safari’s and the good old fashioned battle royal.”

Standing up with deliberate slowness he crossed the short space between them and held out his hand. “So, how would you feel about a trip to Africa?”

Quirking an eyebrow, Simon fought the slight sensation of a smile at Isabel’s almost instinctual suspicion. Even after a year away she’d remembered not to take things at face value, from him at least, and while he’d need to teach her how best to act on those suspicions, for now he’d settle for feeling ever so slightly smug.

Then, because she was Isabel bloody Duskmoor, and lived to frustrate him, she had to ruin it by drawing the wrong conclusion. Pinching the bridge of his nose he took a slow breath before looking back to the buxom brunette. He’d hoped he wouldn’t need to explain this but having her misunderstand him here would be worse in the long run.

“No Issie, I didn’t forget. And if you can honestly say that half of Sanctuary wasn’t as scared of you as the rest of the city at the height of your infamy, then I’ll take it back right now.”

Holding the soubrettes gaze for several seconds Simon waited for a reply, only to hold back a sigh when she finally looked away without breaking the silence.

“I didn’t think so. No one was ever cheering you on Isabel. I’m sure there were people who took satisfaction in what you did, who felt you gave them some measure of closure or revenge, but all they knew of you was your body count and it scared them, so they kept their distance. Is that what you want?”

There is perhaps no answer quite so irritating as ‘Because’. It gives no rationale, provides no understanding and serves only as a means of evading the question asked. However, when you deal with the foolish and unthinking often enough, and they were sadly all too common in the less legal realms, you eventually understood that ‘because’ was often little more than a synonym for ‘I don’t know’ and the simplest means of resolving ignorance was to provide what it wanted least; attention.

Thus he ignored Isabel’s initial, instinctive response, merely raising an eyebrow as he let the awkward lull in the conversation prod the ingenue for further details and very carefully did not smirk when she then proceeded to explain herself.

As for what her answer meant, well, there wee a number of words one could use depending on how polite they were feeling. Impetuous, spontaneous, passionate… all the way to foolish, irresponsible and unthinking. In the end though it all came back to what the hessian already knew; that the soubrette had operated with carte blanche for so long that the consequences of her actions just didn’t occur to her unless you beat her over the head with them.

Literally in some cases.

Still, that approach wouldn’t work long term and while he’d place a compulsion against indiscriminate killing, he’d also left her a loophole for self defense and it would only be a matter of time before she learned how to abuse it. No, what he needed was to reframe the issue, or failing that, redirect her attention to more acceptable targets.

“I won’t argue there Issie, I’ve seen you fight remember?” He remarked, raising his hands in a calming gesture in answer to the indignant look she shot him with her last statement. “Still, it must be dull having to fight the same weaklings over and over again. SWAT, NYPD, don’t even get me started on the Church of Humanity…” He groused while shaking his head. “You might as well be fighting off toddlers, they’re hardly worth your time”.

Listening was an underrated skill.

Far to often people were given to believe that they had something of importance to say, that their opinion mattered. A touching sentiment but hardly one founded in reality. Outside specific areas of expertise people were, by and large, ignorant and unaware of their ignorance. Experience and expertise were prized for a reason after all, and if you found yourself lacking one or both sometimes it was simply better to sit down, shut up, listen and then ask the occasional question.

So Simon listened.

Little of it was new, they'd had this discussion in various forms before, though row would perhaps be a more apt descriptor. Even then they'd always focused more on her actions then actual goals... which had honestly done neither of them any favours. Perhaps it was time to try something different?

Lowering his gaze from the ceiling Simon waited for Isabel to finish, watching as the soubrette dragged forth words while her eyes focused on nothing beyond her own hands and her shoulders tensed, ready for a fight.

"Alright. No judgement, no criticism, just acceptance. He's listened, and while it wasn't anything new, it didn't have to be.

"Power, freedom and privilege." Resting an elbow in one hand and his chin in the other he went on, choosing his words with the same care Duskmoor had shown. "The power to change things as you see fit. The freedom to use said power and the privilege to prevent others doing the same to you. Would that be a fair summary?"

As far as goals went they were hardly ground breaking, but given what he knew of the brunette they made sense. The girl had been on one leash or another ever since she'd arrived at sanctuary. It wasn't unusual for her to want some kind of independence. Still, just because he understood her goals didn't mean he agreed with them, but that was a discussion for later.

"So how do you want to go about it?" He fixed the soubrettes bowed head with an intent stat stare, expression perfectly serious. "I can help with your first goal, already have honestly, but I still have some ideas of you want to expand your power, and I mean more than your mutation." Power can in many forms after all and Duskmoor was woefully lacking in those that didn't rely on violence or threats.

Shifting to rest his elbows on his knees Simon clasped his hand and lent forward until he was on with level work Isabel. "Your second goal," he gave a brief chuckle, "honestly given how deft you've proven with loop holes, I'm not sure you need my help but I can give it nonetheless." In truth he had little idea if the compulsion could ever be removed, but it would be simple enough to reword the few commands he had given her.

He just needed reassurances she wouldn't go on a rampage the moment he did so, which led rather nicely to the third point.

"As for privilege... well, I'll need a little more from you before I know how to help with that. So, Issie, how do you want to achieve your goals?"

Watching the brunette grudgingly drag herself over to the bed and curl up on the mattress Simon fought the urge to roll his eyes and lost. In all honesty her jejune behaviour should have been down right irritating, if not insulting, yet he found himself not only accommodating it but practically indulging it. Granted part of it was simply that the soubrettes behaviour doubled as a delaying tactic to a topic neither of them wanted to address.. whatever it was they had, but the rest...

Sad as it was to say, but this was Duskmoors equivalent of ‘behaving’ and he was loathe to discourage it. She hadn’t threatened or insulted him, thrown a tantrum or even tried to walk away. She’d listened and even though it was clear she didn’t like the girl had still sat down because some part of her agreed that they needed to talk, even if it was only so he’d stop asking about it.

That wouldn’t have happened a year ago, though come to that he wouldn’t have thought it could happen 24 hours ago yet here they were so clearly he didn’t know what was going through her head. Whatever had changed between them though, whatever had led Isabel to knock on his door last night, well, they could either dance around it for the next few days or weeks like clueless teenagers and suffer through the resulting drama, or they could handle it like adults.

Which, would be a hell of a lot easier if he could stop getting distracted as he realized he’d spent at least the last minute looking down her shirt watching her nervously fasten and unfasten the top buttons.

Letting out a short groan of irritation Simon buried his eyes in his hands and raised his face to the ceiling, staying silent just a few short moments before saying resignedly. “You don’t even know you’re doing it, do you?” It was as much a statement as a question and when Isabel didn’t immediately respond he carried on. “How can- No, never mind, could you please just sit up and stop playing with your shirt?”

After hearing the mattress shift, but unwilling to take any chances for the moment, he lowered his hands and crossed his arms while keeping his eyes on the ceiling. ” Alright, as far as what you said, in reverse order, your lies to my sister work about as well as a water cup made of sugar cubes. So good luck with that.”

“Secondly... the fact you can drink when I’m gone and not end up with someone else is- just another way of saying I’m the only one you’re willing to sleep with.” He concluded with a shrug as he finally lowered his head and met the girls gaze with his own before continuing in a soft tone.

“So what is it you want Isabel? Because it certainly doesn’t seem like ‘nothing’.”

Falling asleep in a curled sitting position like a puppet with broken strings wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but nor was it the hardest and with his head still resting against Isabel's and the brunette having ‘impaired’ the view so to speak, Simon found himself fighting to keep his eyes open following his bout of laughter, the remnants of which still had a faint smile on his face.

In all honesty, given how impractical their current pose was, it spoke volumes about how tired they were that neither of them had bothered to move. Spines really weren’t meant to rest that way and while Duskmoor could treat contortions like a walk in the park Simon could tell his neck would be waging war with him later. Then again, given that he regularly reassemble himself on the fly it was all rather a moot point anyway.

Hmm, did this mean he was using Isabel as a pillow? Or was she using him?

Fortunately, before the hessian managed to voice that particular thought the brunette in question began to shake her head causing his own to fall and breaking his torpor as he caught himself and blinked bemusedly at the girl as she began speaking.

“...even if you're being weird and saying really nice things for whatever reason. ”

“...your compliments need work.”

“But I do like the sound of power.”

Wait, what?

Before he could come up with another quip the soubrette carefully pushed him upright with one hand, letting him catch her lidded gaze for just a moment before her lips grazed his cheek and her next whispered words left him to stiffen even furth. Was she honestly-?

A sudden whirl of movement, followed by a distinct lack of warmth and weight as Isabel once again stole the blankets, wrapped herself in cocoon and rolled off his lap, knocking him down in the process and leaving him to stare at the ceiling.

He really should have seen that coming.

Fighting down the sudden surge of frustration with a combination of weariness and long suffering patience Simon slowly counted back from five before he let himself speak in a tone of dead calm. “Touche, Isabel.”

It wasn’t often after all that the brunette managed to one up him, and it was certainly the first time she’d managed to do it like this. Considering how often he’d urged her to think around problems instead of fight her way through them, it would be downright hypocritical of him to retaliate.

“You realize of course, that this means war.”

As he grasped a glass of water from the bedside table Simon reflected that, of all the things he’d been called in his life, hypocrite didn’t even rank in the top ten.

---

Retribution was swift, but also brief, neither of them having enough energy to escalate things one way or another. While he’d managed to reclaim part of the blanket, specifically the dry part, at the cost of a bruise or two from Duskmoor, it had ended up being something of a moot point as they’d ultimately collapsed side by side and fallen asleep again in much the same position as they’d started in.

Neither of them moved again until well into the afternoon, and even then only reluctantly as hunger and thirst made themselves known, but even that was only enough for one of them to pick up a phone and having something delivered to the building, neither of them willing to venture outside just yet. Feeling mildly more alive and alert after having eaten Simon decided to break the rather awkward silence.

“So, where do we go from here?”

---

OOC: Wasn't quite sure where to end things so I'll give you the choice of deciding, you can treat the hypocrite line as the end or go with the brief time skip I put in, up to you.