Ichor And Steel

Chapter Fifteen; What would you care?

ɴɪɢʜᴛᴍᴀʀᴇꜱ ᴏɴ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴀᴛ, ᴇᴍɪʟʏ ᴊᴀɴᴇ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ

"Is it guilt, or unfairness?" Salvatore Moreau challenged, his voice throaty and gurgling with laughter. He hiccupped, his blistered backside jiggling and thin legs quivering in reaction to whatever amusement he saw in Heisenberg's ramble.

"This is why you have no friends, fishy," the man sniffed, nose wrinkling in a twitch; it was colder by the reservoir. "I came to you and your stinking basin for...I'm not sure...comfort? And instead, you decide to joke about it?"

"Comfort?" he spat, throwing his head around and spluttering cackles. "That puny man is rubbing off on you-that's what Mother would say!"

Heisenberg clipped his chin and stomped on his foot, yelling out in incoherent rage. Moreau hopped around, one-legged, cramping and squealing. The metal man flicked his hair and clutched his hat to his chest, stretching his neck to peer down onto the pier and, in a wind-filled occasion relished in what his annoying mother's boy of a brother jested; there was truth within Moreau's tone. Ethan had yet to make Heisenberg senseless and instead gifted him concern, pride, despair, and fervour...he gave me back a temper I hadn't realised I lost.

But Heisenberg refused to admit aloud that Moreau-that thing-was right. He'd only rightly confess to his unfairness, he had leverage over Ethan and had misplayed it.

From afar, they sighted the blonde, now with a cotton cap pulled over his eyebrows. It must've kept slipping, obscuring his vision since he pawed at it. His fingers jittered from the frigid mist the water breathed at him, and he trembly attempted at tying wire knots into a thin line. He then sneezed, violently, and shuddered. Cute-wait no. Heisenberg frowned and his head ducked backwards, as though a fly had buzzed under his nose. What the fuck was that thought about?

"Donna sent him; she said he was looking for you," Moreau told him. "I did try to tell him there wasn't anything to fix but he was set on busying himself."

The gangly blonde appeared very discontented, hauling himself up to an unsteady footing and swung around a thick metal bucket, flailing fishtails seizing and one escaping to Ethan's grievance. It took one misstep before Ethan was seemingly ensnared by the water, completely engulfed within half a second. He resurfaced, thrashing arms but his wails became suppressed as the tide opposed his struggles; it was although the water, glassy with ice atop, took a physical form to wrestle Ethan.

"Shit, blondie," Heisenberg gasped, staggering down the slope, and yanked at his coat and gloves. Moreau came in close tow but did not go beyond the water's edge in fear of wetting Heisenberg's coat.

He launched off haunches like a Lycan and vanished head-first through the visage the ice had curated. Heisenberg flicked his hair, drenched and beard sagging into a thin point, and he paddled to keep afloat, cawing out, "Ethan?"

Blubblurblub!

To his right, bubbles shimmied to the water's face, shimmering like an oil painting. Heisenberg's broad frame cut through, his damp shirt sinking into the brawn of his back and snow forming along his eyelashes. His foot crashed into Ethan's stomach and he reeled the blonde from the deep grasp of seaweed and moss. The rescuee choked up air and unconsciously grappled for Heisenberg's neck, swinging off it when they waded to shore. Ethan surprisingly collapsed, Heisenberg coming down with him in worry he'd swallowed a few lung-fulls but was gestured otherwise with a flailing hand.

"I'm fine," Ethan wheezed, opposing what he insisted. Remnants of the reservoir swished inside his stomach and seared the edges of any breath in his throat. He pounded his chest with a bruised and scratched-up fist and Heisenberg regarded it, suddenly noticing the bruising where his sleeves nor pants quite reached.