apoplectic / finn & vince, jb
Oct 3, 2022 22:11:56 GMT -5
Post by calla on Oct 3, 2022 22:11:56 GMT -5
v i n c e d a v i e s
The Keepers all look the other way when he breezes his way in. Vince thinks about maybe nicking something from the hall, maybe trying to shove one of the oil paintings up his shirt and walking back out just to see what would happen.
(Answer: nothing.)
The Davies waltz their way through Twelve like they own the place, because they do own the place - Vince is no different.
The rest of the District would do well to remember that. Hell, Finn would do well to remember that. Vince was hardly even listening to the Reaping - why should he care? His family's safe, they're strong, they're powerful. They all know the escort would pull out their own name before they pulled a Davies.
Yet here they are.
Except things were fine. They were. And now Finn's gone and put a chink in their armour and the whispers are already starting, the rats are moving, the pieces shift; Finn's last parting gift is a giant big mess for the rest of them to clean up. And that's the part that really gets him going. Not the fact his brother's decided to go off to get murdered, because Vince is certainly under no illusion that Finn can actually get out of there, there's a reason they call him the things they do; he's a poser and any red on his hands is nothing but wine stains or lipsticks marks or something equally as gross.
It's just inconsiderate. Messy. Completely out of left field and against every facet of the image they've built.
Vince practically slams the door open, lets it hang behind him then throws himself across one of the couches that was probably already out of style twenty years ago.
"I'm taking all of your shit when you die."
He picks at the threads on one of the throw pillows, watching the way it comes undone instead of watching his brother.
"You're a real asshole, you know that?" But it's rhetorical so he just keeps going, grabbing a thread and yanking- "You want us to go after that Luna girl?"
(Answer: nothing.)
The Davies waltz their way through Twelve like they own the place, because they do own the place - Vince is no different.
The rest of the District would do well to remember that. Hell, Finn would do well to remember that. Vince was hardly even listening to the Reaping - why should he care? His family's safe, they're strong, they're powerful. They all know the escort would pull out their own name before they pulled a Davies.
Yet here they are.
Except things were fine. They were. And now Finn's gone and put a chink in their armour and the whispers are already starting, the rats are moving, the pieces shift; Finn's last parting gift is a giant big mess for the rest of them to clean up. And that's the part that really gets him going. Not the fact his brother's decided to go off to get murdered, because Vince is certainly under no illusion that Finn can actually get out of there, there's a reason they call him the things they do; he's a poser and any red on his hands is nothing but wine stains or lipsticks marks or something equally as gross.
It's just inconsiderate. Messy. Completely out of left field and against every facet of the image they've built.
Vince practically slams the door open, lets it hang behind him then throws himself across one of the couches that was probably already out of style twenty years ago.
"I'm taking all of your shit when you die."
He picks at the threads on one of the throw pillows, watching the way it comes undone instead of watching his brother.
"You're a real asshole, you know that?" But it's rhetorical so he just keeps going, grabbing a thread and yanking- "You want us to go after that Luna girl?"
