thecapitol | (no subject)

Who| John Watson and open
What| Venturing out after waking up in the Capitol
Where| Tribute Tower, possibly other locations later
When| Before date auction

It hadn't been a particularly glorious or sensational death, and John was almost glad of it. He woke in the Capitol as if from a particularly vivid nightmare, but his leg would no longer reliably support his weight no matter how hard he sat in his room and hated himself for being unable to just think through the psychosomatic injury. He'd had to accept the arm of an avox to get himself safely there, and he hadn't left since.

He'd have to get a cane, again. Sherlock would hate it.

Speaking of Sherlock- he hadn't avoided him exactly, but he hadn't sought him out either. Hours seemed to slip past like breathing until the idiotic futility of it all was too much and he knew that he'd never, ever get out of his room unless he forced himself to, right now. Right this instant.

Asking for a stick was one of the hardest, most humiliating things he'd ever had to do in his life. Once he had it, he heaved himself upright, took a deep, steadying breath, set his jaw- and stepped out.

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He hesitated a moment, not expecting a relatively normal greeting.

"I did not expect to see a man hurt after his return. I know the healers here were able to give me back my arm. But if you're been returned in this state does that mean your friend..."

He hadn't considered that Sherlock would be back in the Capitol with the hair cut he an Karkat had given him and the mental image made Cuthbert smile despite himself.

His expression tightened.
"It's an old injury. From before. So no, Sherlock's quite fine, thank you, though I don't think he's half as precious about his hair as you seem to think he is."

That was a relief, in a sense.

"It was not about his hair, it was about marking him, humiliating him and letting everyone here see it. But I did not come here to rub salt in that wound, rather to close it. My debt with him has been repaid, I no longer have a reason to seek his hurt or destruction."

He bowed his head to try and stay serious.

"I would not expect his friendship, or yours. But I thought it best to tell you I have no further ill intent toward him."

Edited (wonky wording) 2013-08-16 21:59 (UTC)

John rather doubted that doing anything to Sherlock's transport would humiliate him in the same way it might affect just about anyone else, but the symbolic gesture and what it meant to everyone else was easy enough to read. He had always thought that Sherlock must be just a little bit vain despite his protests to the contrary, too (why else dress like that?) but he wasn't about to either add to Cuthbert's perceived victory or invalidate it to the point where he might seek further retribution.
So he nodded. He'd been around enough people in the army with similarly self-constructed methods of evening the score. He understood it.

"I'm not going to be seeking you out to settle any scores either," he assured him. "But I wouldn't expect Sherlock to be any more polite in future. If you don't want your mistakes advertised, I'd make sure not to make any in front of him."

"That implies that I make mistakes, sai, and I would not let you labor under false assumptions. Still, I will see to it Karkat is also aware my debt is settled."

And then it dawns on Cuthbert that his partner in crime might not be safe either now. He hadn't meant to draw anyone else into his petty revenge.

"This all goes for Karkat also, aye? I would not see him mixed up in this further than helping me shave your friend."