The Common Room Showing 1,201-1,208 of 1,208

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Yvonne did not like this boy who sat across from her, nearly as much as he clearly did not like her. Yvonne had spent her entire childhood standing up to boys who were bigger than her, stronger than her, and meaner than her, and she always came out on top; why should the first psychopath she meets in this madhouse she doesn't belong in be any different? She could fight, that much was true, but with Raven she could tell she had to fight differently, she had to be a bit more cunning. Throwing fists and kicks wouldn't work with him, and Lord knows that would just get her strapped down and drugged up even faster. Yvonne would have to fight with her words; she would have to choose them carefully, she would have to watch them as they came out of her mouth and make sure they were received as intended. It was a language barrier, of sorts. She knew how to handle language barriers.

Yvonne did however like Raven's motions, she liked that he relaxed a little, that he seemed less like he immediately wanted to kill her. She wondered, if she hadn't been so forward, if he would have taken to her more. Perhaps this Raven was not a fan of competition; as King of the Madmen, why would he want someone waltzing in, asking to rule as an equal? An equal was not necessary... yet.

The Frenchwoman's expression went just as blank as Raven's; her fake smile disappeared and it was replaced with a clear, open expression, one that said that she was paying attention as he demanded. She allowed him to treat her as a child, she allowed his smug "Are you listening?" to float by with no consequence, and she nodded. "Oui, I am listening."

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

Good. Raven didn't say the word, and not a muscle twitched in his face to show that he'd even thought it, but it was certainly there. "Okay," was what he said, with a slow nod of satisfaction. "Here they are, then. You, Yvonne, want protection. You want a mentor. You want my shadow walking before yours, my name in the back of everybody's minds when they talk to you so that no one tries any funny business." He raised one eyebrow almost imperceptibly, and privately he smiled at the irony of it all: Yvonne wanted no funny business during her stay at St. Peter's and yet here she sat, engaging in the most dangerous of said business with the most famous psychopath that made their home within the walls. On another day--at another time--Raven might have laughed, but now all he did was lift that one brow, allowing no other trace of amusement to show on his face or in his voice.

Yvonne was good, but he was better.

He went on. "And I'm willing to offer that to you--part of it, anyway." You'll earn the rest, sweetheart. You'll earn it or it will all fall away, and you'll know the minute it does. Watch yourself. "The rest of it will come in time. Perhaps. If you decide you like what you see and want to continue putting chips on the table. For now, this is what I'll give you: advice. Right here, you get three questions. No more, no less. I'll let you ask me anything you want, and I'll answer to the best of my ability." His eyes flicked meaningfully to the guards, standing passively behind Yvonne once again but without a doubt listening in, a silent warning to the girl that to the best of my ability more or less meant whatever I can tell you without arousing suspicion. Tight restraints, yes, but Raven somehow had a feeling that Yvonne was not so stupid as to pass up this chance--free advice was not something he gave a lot of people. Not without procuring something for himself first. He looked at her, eyes dark and mellowed, the obsidian liquid now instead of sharp. "That's a promise," he added, as a gesture of good faith. "Three questions, three answers, no tricks. Consider it...collateral." He did nothing so foolish as to extend his hand--the time for that, too, was past--but did raise his brows, both of them this time, just slightly. "Does that sound fair to you, sweetheart?"

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Yvonne barked out a laugh, she couldn't even bother to hold it back. When she next made eye contact with Raven, she had a grin on her face, and a jovial light in her eyes. "Fair? That sounds more than fair! I get protection and advice? Mon Dieu, that is a great end of the bargain for me."

She did not say yes yet, however, instead cocking her head to one side in the form of a question, and narrowing her gaze ever so slightly. "What's in it for you, then? You are giving me a lot of things, here, and it seems to be as if you are gaining nothing in return. I do not want to make such a one-sided deal, no, that would be incredibly unfair to you." Her voice grew sweet, dripping with honey and sugar and concern; genuine or not, that was quite debatable. There had to be a catch; this boy had tried her so much thus far, and had given her such a hard time, and now he tried to tell her he was going to give her free things, with no consequence? That was quite hard to believe; Yvonne was not dumb.

Yvonne leaned forward, and a few locks of her ratty hair fell in front of her eyes, which she then attempted to unsuccessfully blow away with a huff. "There has got to be something you want from this deal, non? What can I do for you, mon cher?"

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

Oh, there was. But dear Yvonne Dubois was not going to be privy to it just yet, because Raven wasn't stupid either, and he knew that the best way to keep her on her toes around him--exactly where she needed to be--was to keep her in the dark. Not enough to dissuade her, or even consciously agitate her, but enough to make her wary. To give her a reason to look over her shoulder when she got nervous; to make her prickle at the back of the neck when she said something she wasn't sure he would like. If she knew all his cards, she could strategize. And the minute she started thinking she could outplan him, she was dead. Maybe not literally--but figuratively, definitely so, and that was enough.

And so the Indian said nothing when he was posed these questions, when Yvonne laughed and smile and sweetly asked him just what he wanted out of their little bargain. He said nothing, and he smiled in turn: the wide, white smile he'd offered her when she came in, innocuous and winning and amiable. "Save it, sweetheart," he told her, not purring again--not quite--but with his voice just low enough and sweet enough to let her know that she could certainly expect an interesting conversation later. "We take things one step at a time, hmm? Back and forth. I made my move; it's your turn now. Do you accept my proposition or not?"

If she didn't, too suspicious to take a dark-eyed, smiling man at his word, it made no matter to him. He would be up and out the door before she could so much as reconsider her bad decision, and he would laugh all the way to the bank.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

It was suspicious, that much was obvious, but what did Yvonne have to lose? There was no guarantee how long she was going to be in this asylum, hell, there was no guarantee how long she was going to be alive if they couldn't stop her brain from swelling. She was a stranger here; she knew nobody, she had no way of knowing if Raven was telling her the truth. But at the same time, she had no reason not to believe him. Yvonne didn't know how dangerous Raven was. She didn't know how many people he had killed, how many people he had tormented, simply for not listening to what he believed in his twisted head was right.

She was truly clueless. And maybe it was her lack of knowledge, maybe it was the inflammation in her brain, or maybe it was just stupidity. But Yvonne smiled, and nodded. "Sure, mon cher. I accept your offer."

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

"Excellent." Raven smiled again, a small smile that quirked at only one corner of his mouth. The kind of smile that played frequently along the lips of businessmen who had just made a very satisfying trade deal...or psychopaths who had drawn up a very well-disguised trap. Raven wasn't going to let her know which one he was just yet; that, too, would be all in good time.

"Consider this engagement a blank check," he told Yvonne, making a steeple of his fingers and setting the heels of his hands atop one knee. "We'll start talking payment once you get your little curiosity out of the way, hmm? One step at a time, just like I said." He let that sink in. Then: "First question, Yvonne. If you decide to waste it on something stupid just to see if I'm trying to trick you, allow me to advise against it. I won't give it back, but I will give you an answer befitting your show of poor faith." He raised his hands and spread them wide, as though to let her know that this was not a threat but a promise (and it was). Then he sat back and waited, easy as you please, one eyebrow raised just slightly above the other and eyes empty as the "check" he'd just presented.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Yvonne did not like Raven's smile. It was the smile of a murderer, the same satisfaction that some got from drawing blood and leaving bruises. She found herself wondering what unfortunate woman found herself on the other end of that smile all too frequently... or perhaps women. She wouldn't put much past this boy, not with what she had learned of him in the few short minutes it took the guard that wasn't Stefan to grab her registration charts.

She didn't know what question to ask, and with only three, she had to be careful. Should she ask about Raven himself? No, she could tell already that that would only end poorly. Should she ask about the way things worked around here? Yes, but what exactly? There were so many questions she wanted answers to, but so many that seemed stupid and not worth one of her three free pieces of advice.

Luckily, Yvonne did not have to make her decision just yet. As she sat there, thinking, pondering, making eye contact with Raven, the other guard walked back in through the doors that showed the interior of St. Peter's. "Miss Dubois," called the guard as he and Stefan walked up to where she was sitting on the couch. He seemed wary, but Yvonne was feeling much more amiable now that the tranquilizing drugs had set in, and she turned her head up towards them and smiled quizzically. "We have to take you to get registered into the system, and to assign you a room." The guard eyed Raven nervously, as if he knew that interrupting in such a way was not going to end well.

Yvonne looked back to Raven, and she shrugged. "Sorry, mon cher, looks like I'll have to wait until next time to play your trivia game." The Frenchwoman stood, and smiled at the Indian; with her wild hair and the still slightly feral look in her eyes, her smile was not welcoming, but it intended to be. "I'll see you around, cher. I won't forget our little engagement here." And Yvonne winked, and blew Raven a kiss, and then allowed the guards to take her by either arm and lead her out of the common room.

((Fade?))

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

((Fade.))