houseofcards_rp | A storm to would-be death

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A storm to would-be death

[He'd gotten the power back. He'd finally (though it was hard to tell if his efforts had actually done anything for it) coordinated everything and the power was back on.

And he was so tired. Ready to sleep. Sleep harder and longer than he had in years. Until this little anonymous (no, that wasn't true. He knew him, knew all his Spades. It was just the exhaustion talking, the exhaustion) had appeared to what?

What, exactly did this child thing he could do to the King of Spades?

Nothing.

Which is why his voice is a frozen rumble as be literally tosses the would-be assassin out of his room, stalking into the hallway after the body.]

That is not acceptable behavior.

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Victor nodded and motioned to his men to take the assassin in hand from the King, whispering in a passing ear to see to the arm and then escort the man down into the area he and Julien had once made use of with Marcus. It was uniquely suited to the Kings needs, after all.

"My Lord, I cannot imagine anyone would disagree with your choices." He said blandly, tilting his head to the side. "My men will send for one of the medical staff." It wouldn't do for the King to fall sick due to injury.

"Do you know how he managed such an attack?" Cameras. The reason for Cameras was this right here.

I don't imagine you needed to use any sort of creative thought for that, Victor.

[He wouldn't have said it, if he weren't already pissed and tired and boiling for a fight.]

From a door, I would think. After all, you're perfectly capable of picking.

[He should not be this annoyed with his head of security. And he would argue about the medic, except he probably needed one to at least clean the wound out.]

Why don't you look at your cameras? You've plenty enough in the hallway.

"My lord asked that we respect his...space." Victor pointed up to the nearest camera that was barely visible. "It doesn't record, in accordance to his highness' wishes."

He made no comment on the lock picking. In truth, Victor had made a bit of a career in picking locks prior to the Deck. It had only been a useful skill afterward. David's attitude, however, was merely noted with mild interest. They had never really gotten along in the best of times- he saw no reason for that to change now.

"We should move from the hall, sir, before the others begin to whisper." After all, David had made a scene already. "Perhaps you would care for a drink."

[Victor being polite shouldn't piss David off. The man was just so good at being sarcastically polite. Made David want to hit him.

Kings did not just go around hitting people for annoying them. David did not need to follow in daddy's footsteps, now did he? It was the only think keeping his hands loose at his sides.

He turns, and stalks back into his office.]

Come in, Victor. I'll show you where he came from.

It was a well honed, fine tuned talent that few others possessed- that sarcastic politeness. He made a bow, a hand crossed over his chest as he bent at the waist, watching David from the corner of his eye.

"As you wish," he said, coming up right again to follow David into the office. He took quick stock of the scene in front of him, though, frowning a little. No, he had no real love for David- but he had always put the Spades above everything. Having a living King, at the moment, was to their advantage.

[A mess. Nothing like the wreck from the fight David and Julien had, though. Some tumbled clutter, some bumped-into furniture. A scuffle, really.

Really, all of this was more of a pain in David's ass than an actual issue. Except for the man's motivation. He really needed to get that.]

He was behind the door, when I came in.

[David gestured the empty space behind the door while he walked over to pour himself that drink. Victor made it sound like a good idea. One drink while he was angry shouldn't do anything.

Just the one.]

Victor tilted his head a little, looking at the space behind the door before squatting down to look over the lock. There were soft scratches at the lock, faint enough that without close inspection no one would have noticed. Reaching up he turned the bolt left and right to be sure the lock still worked.

New to the game, Victor thought, but still not very good. After all, the only hints Victor had left had been the fact that the locks had remained unlocked- due mostly to time. He could have rest them and left no one the better for it.

Looking down at the spot the assassin had waited in, he frowned again. Cold, cramped and dark. Not ideal in the least. His muscles would have been slow due to long periods of standing still- he would have been stiff.

"Did he give you any hint as to why?" He asked, pushing himself up and closing the door with a curious look on his face.

The King would need a new lock. Probably a double cylinder- much harder to pick.

I was rather over-zealous in my defense, I'm afraid. Better information will have to wait until questioning.

[He offers the drink her poured for Victor - it was shameful to drink alone, even if he did have to blur the tension.]

Though, from what I gathered, he was not appreciative of my recent relationship choices.

"I cannot say that is his business." Victor said with a bit of a frown on his lips. Though if that was because of the comment or from the drink David was handing him was hard to tell.

Victor was never very comfortable with drinking around David. Or, rather, with idle conversation with David. Still- it took it and held the glass lightly in his finds.

"I will see what I can find," he said after a moment, taking a slow sip before tipping his head to the side. Someone else had a hand in this, he was certain.

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A storm to would-be death

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