Hard to Hate You // Michael Langdon

Part XI - Coco & Gallant

"He's being oversensitive and refusing to do my hair for the Halloween ball!" Coco exclaims frustratedly as she points to Gallant.

"She's being a bitch and using every opportunity she gets to give me snarky remarks!" Gallant argues.

"That's enough," Michael declares, his tone making it clear that they have no choice but to quiet down.  "You're acting like children."

I stifle a scoff; if only they knew that he was the child in the room.

They both look down as he soaks up their shame.  "Now, I am willing to make you an offer," he states as he steps forward.  "I will allow the two of you to decide which one of you is worthy of going to the Sanctuary.  If you cannot come to an agreement, neither of you will go."

"What the fuck?" Coco scoffs.  "We all know that Gallant and I will never be able to make that decision."

Michael shrugs.  "Fine by me.  If you can't make a decision, you will both stay here and die."

Gallant and Coco turn to each other, speechless.  Gallant turns back to Michael.  "But what about-"

"No buts," Michael interrupts.  "Of course, I could just take back my offer and allow the two of you to die here."

"No, I'm sure we'll work something out, Mr. Langdon," Coco says as she shoots Gallant a glare.  I can tell right away that she is not going to be giving in to Gallant anytime soon.

Michael looks between them before turning away.  "You have until the Halloween Ball to make your decision.  I expect you to tell me your decision no later than just before it starts."

They both nod as they're leaving.  I transmutate down to Michael's desk as the door closes behind them.

"That is absolutely evil," I scoff.  "You're forcing them to make this decision when you know they won't even live for it to be enacted upon."

He smirks.  "You seem more amused than bothered by it."

"Well, I mean, it's genius.  It's evil, but it's genius," I chuckle.  "It'll force those two to work out what's going on between them at least."

He just watches me amusedly, so I walk forward to his desk.  "When even is this Halloween ball?" I ask as I lean over onto the desk.

He looks up at me.  "In one week."

"Please tell me you've come up with a plan for how to deal with the witches," I sigh.

He rolls his eyes.  "How am I supposed to form a plan when I have my ally giving me aneurysms during our arguments?"

I roll my eyes and pretend to turn to leave, but he speaks up when I'm halfway across the room.  "Valentina, how the hell do I gain your trust?"

I turn back to him to see a slightly defeated yet frustrated expression on his face.  I cross my arms over my chest.  "Maybe not breaking my wrist every time I disrespect you would be a good start."

He sighs as he leans against the desk and allows his hands to fall to his sides.  "I'm sorry."

I raise a brow.  "You're apologizing?" I question almost mockingly.

"You see, I'm trying a thing called being the better person.  You should try it sometime," he says sarcastically.

I scoff.  "That's rich, coming from the Antichrist."

"Valentina, we have a week until the Halloween ball.  If we don't work this out, we're fucked."

"We're fucked either way.  As long as we get into a showdown with the witches, you're not getting out of this alive; therefore, neither will I."

"Have some faith in me," he sighs.  "With our combined powers, we'll be able to kill the witches."

"Normally, I would believe you, but I have a hard time believing that the witches would hide Mallory in this outpost right under your nose if they didn't have a plan - and a good one at that.  They aren't stupid; this plan must be one that'll kill you for good."

He rolls his eyes.  "I can read minds; I'll find out whatever the plan is and stop it."

"You'll probably be too late.  As you said earlier, we have no idea how many witches are hiding under our noses, let alone how many are hiding with Cordelia Goode.  My guess is that there will be a lot, enough to delay you for long enough for them to carry out their plan."

"We can turn Dinah Stevens to our side-"

"Our side?" I question.  "I've made myself perfectly clear; I don't want to help you finish killing off the world population.  You're on your own."

"How many times do I have to remind you that you die if I die?" he states condescendingly.

"And I have never needed the reminder.  I heard you perfectly well the first time you told me."

"And you're still refusing to help me?"

"As surprising as it may sound for how bad my morales are, I am willing to die in exchange for the world population."

Michael sighs as he leans back and places his head in his hand.  "We're supposed to be allies here!" he scoffs as he dramatically holds his hand out.

"Guess what?  I don't want to!"

"For the last time, you don't get a choice!"  He is now on his feet, storming towards me.

"What are you going to do about it, make me help you?" I challenge, taking a defensive stance upon seeing his rising anger.

He roughly takes my arm.  "Let me show you exactly why we are killing the witches."

I quickly try to push his hand off my arm, but his grip remains tight as steel.  "Let go of me, you asshole!" I protest as he drags me over to the desk.

He begins muttering under his breath in a foreign language: it sounds like Latin.  I dig my nails into his arm to the point that I draw blood, but his grip only tightens.  

His chant grows louder and I begin to feel a pounding in my head.  "Michael, stop!" I shout as I push him once more.  I am about to use my powers to throw him back when he releases me.  My surroundings go black before I hit the ground.