𝖂𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖞𝖘𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖘 : JEROME VALESKA

" ↁ "

"Rose, get off there. Rose!"

Craning her neck, Rose stares at Jerome in amazement. The killer who stands behind her, beside a shattered door and a broken chair is not the one she remembers.

"You almost sound concerned." She says, speech dripping with sarcasm as she cocks her head in wonder. Scoffing at the thought, she returns her gaze to the dizzying height beneath her, noting that her feet- or rather, the one foot she balances on- is trembling. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Tetch, his pocket watch glittering in the moonlight. What he showed her, though traumatising, is enough to deter her from shooting him where he stands so with a shake of her head, she pivots back toward the room and hops off the ledge with surprising ease.

"What's wrong, not a fan of heights?"

She asks as Jerome strides forward, slamming a disfigured lock onto the dining table before pulling a pistol from his pocket. How he fit it in there, she has no clue but raises her eyebrows, unimpressed, when he points it in her direction.

"Just didn't want your death to be a waste. Gravity wouldn't have enjoyed it as much as I'm about to."

"Oh," Rose laughs, inching forward so the muzzle is pressed against her forehead, "You're gonna kill me now?"

When he doesn't respond, she seizes his hand and wrenches his finger over the trigger.

"Do it. Do it! Shoot me damnit!" There isn't a hint of emotion in his eyes as she screams, her nails clawing through his skin and drawing red bubbles of blood from his flesh. She inhales sharply, unnerved by his nonchalance in the face of her outburst, "That's what I thought, you fucking pussy."

He pulls the trigger.

She doesn't flinch.

In that moment, as she stares down the barrel of his gun with smoke in her lungs and shock in her eyes, she realises she has nothing left to lose. All her life, she'd felt the world was too good to her. Too normal. Now, she knew why. Everything she thought she knew was a lie and she didn't care what happened anymore.

A cartridge clatters onto the floorboards as Jerome fiddles with the gun, forehead wrinkled in concentration.

"Empty."

He laughs, gripping her by the shoulders and lowering himself so they're of equal height.

"What the hell did you do to her?" He asks Tetch offhandedly, the grin that peels apart his lips bold enough to crack the dried blood in the corners. It's the first time she's seen him up close in a while and she leans closer, pressing her forehead against his with an innate desire to irritate him.

"Get out." He says and for a moment she thinks he's talking to her but when Tetch doesn't move, he shuffles back, reloads the weapon and fires it in his approximate direction where it promptly smashes through a window instead.

"Now!"

As Jervis scrambles for the exit, Rose goes for the gun, inadvertently slamming its possessor into the dining table.

"Russian roulette?" She asks before he yanks the pistol out of her grip and it flies halfway across the room. With a mocking pout, she drags him forward by the lapels of his jacket, "If you wanted me alone you could've just asked." She says, turning his gaze toward the shattered glass.

"You're high." He replies, peeling himself away and gathering the vial from the table, "I don't know what he gave you."

"Well, you know what they say. What doesn't kill you makes you stranger." When he lifts an eyebrow in response, she steers herself toward the doorway, "I have something to take care of."