Well Ain't That Swell?

[Iƪƪia]

Everything was just so damn funny. Though he couldn't say why this conversation had suddenly become hilarious, he just knew that it was taking much of his strength to keep himself from collapsing onto the floor in a fit of laughter. It was probably a defense mechanism. If not for these moments of, quite frankly, insanity, he'd surely crumble beneath these onslaughts of fear and apprehension that he often felt.

Fidgeting slightly, he turned his attention back to his neighbor, nodding at nothing in particular and smiling in a way that seemed almost condescending if he were capable of such a thing at this moment.

"Well, aren't you courageous," He muttered, more to himself, "Isn't he heroic?"

He tipped his head, listening to the affirmative though sarcastic and scathing responses, nearly forgetting that he was unable to hear the voices as well. Although that's how it always was. They never spoke to anyone aside from him. The creatures who were able to peer into another's mind would find nothing out of the ordinary within his. Other people weren't worthy enough to be spoken to.

Shaking his head, he watched him curiously. Somehow, for some strange reason he still had the will to fight. He still wanted to fight it. That just... Didn't make sense. Why would anyone want to bring that pain upon them. Did he used to be like that? It was so long ago... He couldn't remember clearly. No... No he was. But why? The why still escaped him. He must have had a reason but it wasn't clear.

Why?

"Why do you fight it?" He asked with a laugh, leaning forward and lowering his voice even more, "Do you really feel the need to hold onto that last bit of sanity you've got left in there? Why... Just why? You really think anyone gives a ****? Got any family? Friends? You don't exactly seem like a social butterfly. See, we just look out for ourselves. We do what we want to and guess what? We're happy! Now you, on the other hand... ****, man. Just being near you is making me feel depressed."

With another short laugh, he spun around, resting his elbows on the bar and his head in his hands as he closed his eyes momentarily. Soon enough, all the voices - not just the external ones, but the internal ones as well - began to sound so very far away before fading away entirely. All that was left was the steady sound of his breathing, though that too began to fade as well...

Slamming his fist on the bar, Hendrix glanced around suspiciously, cursing under his breath. Lacing his fingers together, he set his chin upon his hands, though this time he made a conscious effort to keep his eyes open.

Segueing almost seamlessly from a moment of exhaustion back to the conversation at hand, he picked up on another, slightly more coherent train of thought.

"I used to be like you. Once." He mused, "Well, not exactly like you, but I can sympathize. There are still some days when I wish they would just shut up."

He paused, quickly becoming lost in thought. Reflecting on the decisions he'd made in his life. Desperately trying to dredge up long-forgotten memories. He tried not to think about the past too much. They didn't like it when he did, either. And yet every now and then an event would happen that would cause him to think back...

... And it was really ****ing depressing.

Shaking the thoughts from his mind he returned his attention to the present where things were much more interesting. Still kind of depressing, but he could work with it.

"You know what? I like you," He spoke as though he had only just confirmed this thought with himself, "Yeah, we should hang out sometime. You like women? I mean you gotta, man. Although you seem like you prefer murder and all that good stuff. Hey, that's cool, that's my second favorite hobby."

[ωΘĿƒ]

The wolf stared blankly back at Hederix as he spouted onward with his little rant. He was having fun though, wasn't he? Much too much fun. A "hell of a time" as it may be described. Le Cyll could understand what interesting things caused this hysteria - he was much closer to it now than he would have liked - but he in no way formed a bond with Hendrix over such a thing.

"Why?" the wolf repeated, very simply, very coldly - not at all in a "happy" way as this creature put it, but he was not interested in being happy. Not at all. He preferred something more along the lines of sterility of mind, not this... craziness.

"Why fight something so painful, you ask? For my sanity? For my well being? For any form of enjoyment I could possibly want? No... You do not understand... I fight this thing with its painful demands because quite frankly, I don't want to end up like you."

It was odd. Very odd. Le Cyll had met many people like him - not exactly like him, but much the same as him. He had not heard voices until recently, and at that point he had just been a screwed up individual - nothing worth note. He had seen this voice-afflicted mindset though, and he had dealt with it when he found it weaker than himself and sought to slay it - study it, find out why it was what it was.

And he had not been happy with his discoveries so far. He had found little to nothing on why these things were as they were - why he was so strange to others where to him eh was so perfectly normal - but he had found that these things that babbled to sounds they heard in their heads and obeyed the will of things not them were disgusting, filthy beings. They had not free will, no choice in anything. Happy? Yes... Most certainly so; but with a diseased sense of the word.

Besides, he much preferred himself solitary. He did not like foreign things making him think as they would. So filthy. So unclean. It made his skin crawl.

He has a point. You will be happy. You think I would force you to do something? No. You want to do this! You need it! I just make it easy for you to understand. I'm your guide. I can help you!

Ignoring this sound and the accompanying discomfort it caused, he instead shook his head, unhappily. He needed none of this... This creature and his foolish thoughts. Polluting him with his ideas.

...Family? Friends? He had... he wasn't.... Not alone. No. Not completely alone. Just solitary by choice. He had people that...

Actually no, he did not... No one really did care about him, did they? It probably should have hit him harder than it did, but instead of upsetting him, it just fascinated him. So strange, that he never really noticed. He could see how that would be sad. Very glad that he did not have to deal with that. He would much rather find he'd overlooked something than be sad.

And he was not sad. No, not often. More like in pain, but he had felt this way all his life. It wasn't anything new for him to feel so dragged down and suffocated as he was. It was his permanent state, and it most likely would be until he died. There was no easy way to think about it, but it was truth, and he accepted it.

"I'm sorry," Le Cyll said, meaning it about as genuinely as he could. "However, I cannot tolerate this... noise. And besides," he added, almost casually, as if he had thought of it just then, "If I kill Kendryek then the voice will go away. It told me so. Kedryek is the problem, not me, and not it."

This seemed very logical to him, although he did not know why. Thinking on it more, he could see how that made sense though. It had started with Kendryek, then told him that Kendryek was the problem. It would make sense that once he had the dragon's little Japanese head between his hands, he would be free to live his life as he was before.

Yes... That made perfect sense. Le Cyll shrugged, listening to Hendrix declare that he liked Le Cyll.

Oddly enough, that sense of apprehension had eased since he had confronted the creature. This was not a bad sign. And what was that? Women? Did he like women?

"Women are sweet," Le Cyll said, and perhaps that was one of the double meanings he seemed so fond of tonight. "However you are correct, I prefer more... sanitary environments to play in?"

He had no other way of explaining it. Well, yes he did, but it seemed so forthright to say anything. He preferred to be ambiguous in this cafe, and ambiguity was something he was excellent at.

"I've never tried anything else, really," he added with a simple shrug. He had honestly never thought to. It was very pleasant already to strap someone down and cut them up into little pieces bit by small, tedious bit. He even liked to keep some of the organs, seeing as they were so good. Where would he find any room to rape someone in that busy schedule? It did seem a bit cluttered already.

It just seemed like overkill to him. Then again, he was a creature of habit.

[Iƪƪia]

Drumming his fingers upon the bar, Hendrix only shrugged halfheartedly as the guy declared that he didn't "want to end up like him." That was fine. Most people didn't want to be like him. Frankly, it was just plain weird if they did. There were even some days when he, himself, didn't want to be like him. Then he told himself what a ****ing moron he was and that he was the best there is, and then he went on with his life.

Sure, he'd been called may things in his life. Sick, twisted, ****ed up. But they were good about that, making him feel like everyone else was crazy except for him. Which made sense in a way. Society tried to beat him down because he was different; because he was better. The world had a problem with him.

... While that may be true he now understood the falsities that he had been told. He refused to believe they'd lie back then, but now he understood. And they had had a perfectly good reason for lying, so they were soon forgiven.

Shrugging these thoughts to the back of his mind, Hendrix looked up as he continued to speak. The voice wanted him to kill a Kendryek, huh? He smiled at the glaring contradiction that had just been created, noting how that name sounded Japanese. He knew it. It was always the Japanese.

"Atta boy. You just do what it says and everything will turn out fine," He said before adding something more quietly as an afterthought, "What reason could it possibly have to lie to you?"

With a sigh, he decided to risk closing his eyes once more. It was a very difficult predicament he was in. Common sense told him to go home and get some sleep. However, they told him to go out and find out where those two girls ran off to. Well, he could always go find them and then pass out in the street after he was finished. Although these back alleys were very unsanitary.

"Women are sweet," He muttered, suddenly hungry.

Opening his eyes, he smiled at the mention of a more sanitary place to play. Well, he couldn't blame the guy for that. He didn't really like conducting his business in alleyways and storage rooms, but sometimes he didn't have much of a choice.

"Yeah, yeah I get ya, Doctor Mengele. But I tell ya, you should try it sometime. I doubt you'll be disappointed," That left him chuckling slightly, though most of his previous mania had died down by now, "But hey, we can play one of your games too."

His - or rather, their - preference for sexual abuse was obvious, he had no qualms about simple murder. Sometimes it was a nice distraction from his usual activities. Of course, if he could have his fun with them beforehand, well that was even better. The best of both worlds as far as he was concerned.

Yawning, he finally decided that whatever the hell he was going to do, he'd better do now. As much fun as this conversation was, he did have priorities. With that in mind, he slid off of his chair, quickly fixing his jacket and his hair before turning back and offering a few words of farewell.

"Alright, I'm outta here. Dude, go... **** some chick tonight, okay? And hey, let's meet up sometime. See ya around."

Satisfied, he turned and ambled out the doors, stopping for a moment just outside. He first looked down the street to the right toward home, then down the left path, toward where those girls had gone. After another moment or two's contemplation, he finally turned and walked off toward the left.