[Dane Wayland]

[nospaces]

AND YOU ACT SO FREE

you act so free; everybody's laughing because you act so free

[break]

[attr="class","lizardstripe-text"]The woman had listened to his telling with only a couple of interjecting nods, interested but not surprised by anything he said. Dane regretted a bit that it was such a boring story. Maybe he should have embellished just a bit. Or preluded with the thrilling chase that'd transpired before. At his question, she shifted a bit before pulling her second shot closer. When she answered that Ray was her father, Dane only nodded once, his lips tucking. "I bet that that fucking sucked." He said simply, no longer entertaining the lingering possibility that she might be seeking him out for some sort of revenge. [break][break]

He had some experience with controlling fathers and doing their bidding under threat of force but... at least Antonio didn't actually possess mind control. What the hell did that look like growing up? He couldn't imagine a man like Ray only using it sparingly when his daughter didn't want to do the dishes or was seeing a boy he didn't like. [break][break]

When she lifted her glass in his direction, proclaiming her hope that Ray was already rotting, Dane lifted his own shot and let a smirk pull at one corner of his mouth. "To bad dads dying bad deaths," he seconded with a quiet cheer, watching her swallow the shot before bringing his own to his lips. He paused and tipped his head, a single brow giving a faint quirk as his smirk pulled further. "May we all be so lucky." [break][break]

He tossed the shot back and set it back to the table with a satisfied smack of his lips. The sugared rim was a nice touch. Offset the bite of the lemon just enough. But the blueberry flavor of the vodka was too mild; unable to cut at all through the burn of the alcohol or citrus. He nudged the empty glass back to the center of the table and pulled the beer to him instead, eye flickering to her covered arm. "So then, is that why you got that tattoo?" He asked, gaze lifting to her face with a sort of sharp, subtle curiosity. "To hunt him?" He was prepared to be very sad for her if that was indeed her reasoning. Now Ray was dead and she was still shackled. "Seems a lot like trading one puppeteer for another."[break][break]

He leaned back in his seat and palmed the beer idly before him. "And I realize I haven't yet asked your name. That's a bad habit of mine." One corner of his mouth tugged just barely; only a suggestion of amusement. "But I suppose, in case you're not satisfied with my answers about your father... would you like me to let you know if I do run into Leslie?"

[break]

you try to smile and it lasts for a while [break]
but they will always send you back to the start

Tag: Genesis Donovan [break]
Give me a nudge for changes!

[newclass=.lizardstripe-text b]color:#1F2F22;font-size:8pt;font-family:Open Sans, sans serif;[/newclass]

[googlefont=Poppins][googlefont=Open Sans]

[Genesis Donovan]

And every time I think I've finally made it
I learn I'm farther away than I have ever been before

---

Her brief fear that she shouldn’t have been honest faded quickly when Dane nodded at the revelation. He was right, it had sucked. Even when she was not with him anymore, she’d still spent a lot of time worrying about what would happen if he found her. Not that he had ever actually tried. Not that she was aware of, anyway. He was too self absorbed for any of that. However, she always assumed he’d at least been upset that something that belonged to him had been taken away.

When he made his own toast about dads, Genie realized he was probably uniquely suited to understand what it was like. That hadn't been the first thought to come to her mind when she found out he was the one responsible for Ray’s death, but maybe it should have been. Unfortunately for him, his father wasn’t being hunted, instead he was pulling the strings attached to all of them.

Genie hadn't been prepared for his curiosity. When he asked about the tattoo, about her reason for becoming a hunter, one corner of her mouth tugged downward and she gave a small shake of her head. It would have been a huge irony if she had chosen this as a way to get back at him, only to get robbed of the chance and then still trapped under another man’s control. “I never intended to hunt him. Or anyone, actually.” She let out a quiet sigh and shrugged, staring at a dark spot on the tabletop for a long couple seconds.

She wasn’t sure if he knew who Toby was, or if it would make a difference if she told him the way she came to actually join the Guild. It was old history, and she (usually) didn’t hold it against Toby anymore. Besides, he’d been the one to help her figure out who to seek out for answers. He was the only person she had left to turn to when she was in trouble. Still, he was the reason she was sitting here. He took her. He forced her into this life. But did he also save her life? What would have happened to her if he hadn't taken her from Ray? Would she have been killed the next time the hunters came? Would her father have killed her, or forced her to do something that got her killed?

Dane pointed out that he hadn't asked for her name. She hadn't bothered offering up either. Anonymity was her usual defense, her armor against uncomfortable or dangerous situations. They were past the point of her having thoughts of fleeing though, and he already knew she was Ray’s daughter, so it wasn’t like he would have much trouble finding the information if he had really wanted to, so there was no reason to stay anonymous now.

“It’s not like I ever volunteer a name anyway. It is usually easier that way. I’m Genie.” She sat back, leaning against the back of the booth. “I do have one more question, actually. About Leslie, specifically.” Genie paused, unsure if she wanted to ask this particular question. If Leslie had gotten away from her father, good for her. But, what if she was a bigger monster than he had been? “You said you broke into her apartment. Were you, I guess are you hunting her?”

---

Dane Wayland
Let me know for changes.

[Dane Wayland]

[nospaces]

AND YOU ACT SO FREE

you act so free; everybody's laughing because you act so free

[break]

[attr="class","lizardstripe-text"]Dane's guess at why she joined the Guild — to hunt her father down — was met with a small shake of her head. The woman frowned, only slightly, and he sucked at his teeth, struck by the alternative that perhaps she had gotten tattooed for the more blaring reason instead. The reason why most everyone did and why the Guild existed at all. To eradicate Gifted. He couldn't and wouldn't blame her for it, especially now that he knew who her father was. He could only guess what damage he'd done to her growing up. Why she might believe the world to be safer without people like him stalking the field. But it would be disappointing. [break][break]

A moment later, though, she answered that she hadn't intended to hunt her father or anyone. Her shoulders lifted in a shrug while her gaze fell to the tabletop between them and Dane tipped his head, blinking curiously. Why had she joined them, then? Ray wasn't a defector so it didn't seem likely that he'd dragged or forced his daughter into it. And sure, there were plenty of people who fell into Antonio's chair without truly knowing what they were signing up for, but...? [break][break]

When she admitted that she usually didn't "offer her name", Dane quirked a brow and only half-concealed the quick pull at his lips by raising his bottle and taking a swig. He liked that. It sounded like him. And she was right, it made things easier. But, a moment later, when she indulged him, he decided that he liked the name Genie more. His mind immediately turned with some choice Christina Aguilera lyrics — thanks, Grace — and he couldn't stop himself from wriggling his shoulders and humming the accompanying beat under his breath, mouth curling into something teasing and sly as he watched for recognition. Or exasperation. Or, less likely, perhaps amusement. She had to be used to it. [break][break]

Genie settled back in her seat and, after hesitating, asked about Leslie. Dane ceased his shimmying and lowered his beer back to the table, shaking his head slowly. "I was chasing someone else. It went wrong, he got away, and I was simply looking for a place to wait out the boys in blue. If she comes after me, she comes after me. If not..." he shrugged flippantly, then leaned forward with his arms on the table again. "So, your father... he could do what he could do, right?" He pushed one of the shots to her, pulled one to himself, and then lifted his eye to her face. "Did he pass anything like that on to you?"

[break]

you try to smile and it lasts for a while [break]
but they will always send you back to the start

Tag: Genesis Donovan [break]
Give me a nudge for changes!

[newclass=.lizardstripe-text b]color:#1F2F22;font-size:8pt;font-family:Open Sans, sans serif;[/newclass]

[googlefont=Poppins][googlefont=Open Sans]

[Genesis Donovan]

And every time I think I've finally made it
I learn I'm farther away than I have ever been before

---

Genie knew that he was looking for the actual answer of why she became a Hunter, specifically a Guild member since she had the tattoo. Her answer, while honest, left out anything of substance. The truth was, he was absolutely right that she still answered to a puppet master. Even if there was a world where she could leave the Guild without becoming the one being hunted, she wasn’t sure if she would though. What else was she made for? What purpose would she have, if she wasn’t doing this?

When she looked back up, she could see he was watching her, curiosity written in his expression. She figured giving him more of an answer was the decent thing to do, especially since he’d turned out to be less of a dick than she imagined he would be. So far, at least. ”When I was thirteen, I was taken, intended to be used as bait to make my father surrender or whatever they thought it would do. The plan failed, obviously. I guess I was useful enough to keep around. For a price, of course.” She nodded at her right arm, where the tip of the tentacles peeked out from the bottom of her sleeve.

It took only a second for Genie to recognize what was happening after she told him her name. Had this not happened to her numerous times when she was growing up, she wouldn’t have known what song he was amusing himself with. She let a surprised smirk play on her lips as she shook her head at his antics. ”Been a while since that happened, you know? I wasn’t even two yet when that came out.” It was a song that she would never be able to escape. In elementary school it had still been pretty popular, and middle school, but after that it seemed to fade out of radio play. Or she just stopped caring. It was about the same time her life was changing so drastically, so it made sense.

When he explained that he’d been chasing someone else when he broke into Leslie’s apartment, Genie felt an unexpected sense of relief. It would have served her father right if he wound up entangled with someone worse than him, but she also felt that anyone who made it away from Ray still alive didn’t deserve to be hunted. There were other questions that his answer raised, like how he knew her name if he broke in just to avoid the police, but she didn’t feel like it was all that important. Especially since he didn’t seem very concerned about her retaliating. Besides, he had another question of his own.

Genie was already feeling the effects of the first two shots that she had taken. She wasn’t drunk, but she had that warm fuzzy feeling that came along with being pleasantly buzzed starting up. She watched as he placed another shot in front of her, and met eyes when he asked the key question. Did he pass anything on to her… It was what Toby had feared when he first took her, but quickly realized she was different. She was a result of her father, but she wasn’t like him. It was like her own gifts manifested to spit his gift, or to protect her from it.

She didn’t know how Dane felt about people like them. Maybe he was like many of the other Hunters and hated their kind, maybe he thought they were problematic, or maybe he didn’t care at all. Her feelings about them were complex, but in general, she felt like Gifted were more likely to do bad things. She included herself in that group. If she didn’t have her gifts, then her father couldn’t have made her do bad things. She was corruptible, just like the Gifted that she hunted.

”I can’t do that. My abilities are a little more… subtle isn’t the right word, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind.” She turned the shot glass without picking it up, staring at the clear liquid. ”I can turn invisible. And I can resist abilities that are directly used on me. Like this.” She moved her arm slightly. ”That’s why this is so big. It used to be the size of a quarter. But when it stops being effective, it grows.”

---

Dane Wayland
Let me know for changes.

[Dane Wayland]

[nospaces]

AND YOU ACT SO FREE

you act so free; everybody's laughing because you act so free

[break]

[attr="class","lizardstripe-text"]Genie decided, of her own accord, to be more forthcoming about her reasons for joining the Guild. Dane felt a brief swell of surprise as she started. She had yet to offer any sort of information about herself that he hadn't prompted and he was taken faintly off-guard, in a weirdly-pleasant way, that he hadn't had to ask. But the feeling quickly faded as he listened, blinking slowly as she informed him that she'd been thirteen, taken by the Guild to be used against her father and then kept when things didn't work to plan. [break][break]

Though the story itself was completely unsurprising, it cropped a sour taste in his mouth and stirred something distantly loathing within him; the sort of dark, dangerous feeling that befit a curled lip. "Mmm," he made the noise of consideration low in his throat as he dropped his gaze to the shot glass between his fingers, eyes gradually emptying of all amusement and tease. "That does sound like the Guild." Making soldiers out of children. Whittling them down to mere weapons with no aspirations or ambitions besides the ones they forced upon them. He supposed Genie could be grateful — though she hadn't yet admitted so, he suspected she was Gifted. If not tattooed, she would have likely been disposed of with similar, apathetic disregard. But, some days, Dane wondered if that wasn't more merciful.[break][break]

After a long moment, in which he tried to clamp his inner want to seethe, Genie confirmed she was, as he'd thought, Gifted. She could turn invisible and resist the influence of gifts used on her. The octopus wrapped around her arm suddenly made much more sense — they were known for their camouflage — but he no longer felt the desire to quietly appreciate his father's choice of animal. It was no longer something he could chuckle at or admit to be witty and smart. It was still a brand at the end of the day.[break][break]

Amusement did manage a faint, returning prickle through him, though, when she called her tattoo big. He felt himself marginally soothe and managed to loosen the fingers that had tightened around the glass before him as his lips tugged askew and he breathed a soft snort through his nose. He lifted his eyes back to her finally, allowing the dark vacancy in their depths to sift back into something neutral. "You should see mine," the corner of his mouth quirked upward into an expression faintly sly, though the smile wasn't nearly as enthusiastic or teasing as the ones before. More muted and grim. "Sucks though, that yours got so big without all the fun of being disobedient." Sucked, that hers grew larger and larger just so she couldn't slip from his father's control. "At least I deserved mine." [break][break]

Dane sucked in a breath — making a conscious effort to shed the rest of the sour loathing that threatened within him. He wouldn't let the Guild ruin what had otherwise been a good night; wouldn't let images of Genie (a young, probably scared girl) in his father's chair send his mood plummeting into something dark and dangerous. Not when he'd actually been having fun. He watched as she looked into her drink, turning the shot glass between her fingers idly but showing no interest in raising it. He shrugged and threw his own back, wondering briefly if he'd have to clean the rest of the table himself. [break][break]

"Do you think you could have had a normal life?" He said, as soon as he set the glass back on the table and wiped at the sugar that clung to his lips with the back of a hand. He made his voice light and curious. As if discussing perfect Sundays again instead of damning circumstances. "After growing up with your father but before the Guild." Thirteen was still young, after all. But perhaps Ray had fucked her up too much by then. And then, as far as he knew, it was entirely possible she still had somewhat of a normal life. A lot of people managed Guild activities with ease. But, as he watched her study the contents of her glass, he couldn't imagine that was the case. "If someone else, someone typical, had taken you in? Where do you think you'd be, what do you think you'd be doing, right now? Can you even imagine?"

[break]

you try to smile and it lasts for a while [break]
but they will always send you back to the start

Tag: Genesis Donovan [break]
Yikes, this is a mess, forgive me. [break]Give me a nudge for changes!

[newclass=.lizardstripe-text b]color:#1F2F22;font-size:8pt;font-family:Open Sans, sans serif;[/newclass]

[googlefont=Poppins][googlefont=Open Sans]

[Genesis Donovan]

And every time I think I've finally made it
I learn I'm farther away than I have ever been before

---

She was certain that her own story, being forced into the Guild as a literal child, wasn’t unique. She had met people who had been forced to join at a much younger age than her, though they all came from families who were already a part of the Guild. Mothers and fathers who turned their children into tiny weapons, forcing them into danger’s way and making them grow up way too fast. The Guild did not seem to be opposed to creating child soldiers. She had at least made it to thirteen before she was forced to make an impossible choice. Join for the rest of her life, or not get to live the rest of her life.

It hadn't been better with her father than it had been once she was in the Guild, it was just different. Between how often they moved around and how paranoid Ray had always been, enrolling Genie in traditional school had never been an option. Calling it a part of her education, he made her train her gifts. He taught her how to shoot a gun. He taught her how to fight dirty. He made her practice her gifts. All in the name of education and survival.

Dane didn’t seem to be surprised. He confirmed that it sounded like the Guild. As she suspected, it wasn’t an uncommon story, to be forced into joining them, into getting tattooed and controlled for life, when you were still a child. She could only assume he’d been one of the ones much younger than herself when he became a Guild member, especially considering who his father is to the organization.

Talking about how large her tattoo was seemed to amuse him though. He teased that hers had gotten big without the fun of disobedience. She wasn’t sure that they had the same idea of fun, but she could see his point. The reason hers grew, why it would continue to grow, was something that she had no control over. It was a passive ability that was always there, something she couldn’t turn off even if she wanted to. “It’s just a consequence of existing, I guess. I mostly keep it covered so I don’t have to explain any changes.” Not that there was really anyone in her life consistently enough to notice. That was by design, but she had to admit that it was getting tiresome.

The next question was harder to answer. Could she ever have had a normal life? Had the white picket fence, a steady relationship, or even just a stable career? She picked up the shot glass and downed the contents while she considered her answer. He added a clarification, “After growing up with your father but before the Guild.”

“I don’t think there would have been any chance of a normal life for me. Even without the Guild, if I had managed to get away from my father I would have always been looking over my shoulder, afraid to settle down or be comfortable anywhere.” She couldn’t even picture what she would be doing right now, if she wasn’t in the Guild and she had gotten away from Ray. “If I’d somehow managed to end up with someone more typical, normal, I think I would have just been a danger to anyone around me.” Would she have found a calling? Something that would make her feel happy and fulfilled? More than likely, she would have become the hunting target. Because of her father, she’d more than likely have ended up on the radar.

“I didn’t get to go to an actual school until after I joined the Guild. I remember meeting other students and being envious of the lives they seemed to have, the easy problems they complained about.” Genie shrugged. “Honestly, I can’t imagine it. I mean, I moved around with a few different families, and some seemed normal, until you dug deeper. For anyone like us, I don’t know that there is a normal.” For anyone Gifted she meant, but didn’t say.

Genie knew that not everyone thought the same way she did. Gifts, on their own, weren’t inherently evil. But people were weak. Avoiding temptation was difficult. She hadn't met anyone Gifted yet who hadn't used their gifts to benefit themselves, even if it meant causing harm to someone else. She wasn’t an exception. There was no chance that she’d live a normal life. Not as long as she was still Gifted.

“What about you? If you weren’t under your father’s thumb, what would you be doing now?” She was curious about his answer. Could he picture himself in a mundane life? Did he have a passion he’d follow if it were an option?

---

Dane Wayland
This got a little rambly. Let me know for changes..

[Dane Wayland]

[nospaces]

AND YOU ACT SO FREE

you act so free; everybody's laughing because you act so free

[break]

[attr="class","lizardstripe-text"]A consequence of existing, she called it. And Dane almost couldn't repress a snort of tickled agreement. His shoulders shucked and he blinked as a sardonic breath puffed from his nose. It was a very good way of putting it. When she added that she usually kept her tattoo covered, so as not to need to explain its slow, unending spread, a corner of his mouth quirked. Fuck 'em, he wanted to say. Let them speculate. Explain nothing but let them see. Let them talk and make up their stories. If it were acceptable for him to walk around shirtless all the time, he'd bare his mutilated back to anyone and everyone around him. They spoke about him anyway. Most of it true, but not all of it. And he tipped into both just the same. [break][break]

But he supposed not everyone was as shameless — as proud of being loathed and disreputable — as him. And Genie, the size of her tattoo didn't mean what his did, after all. So he only nodded faintly, understanding despite his personal disagreement, and watched her throw back the shot that he wasn't sure she would. She continued, answering that she didn't think there had ever been a chance for a normal life for her. The admittance deepened his nod and he tucked his lips. He wasn't surprised. And he could relate. It was hard to imagine. Impossible, most of the time. [break][break]

He could only guess how her own father molded her life as a child; what he'd expected, asked, and then eventually made her do. But it was clear Antonio had designs for his sons from the beginning, likely when they were still in the cradle. Most of it — the constant grooming and unyielding expectation — had fallen on Dino, of course. Dane had been more like a shadowy tagalong while his brother was alive. But still, if Antonio had had his way, they'd have grown into perfect little clones of him, never once entertaining the possibilities of being their own persons or thinking for themselves. Unfortunately for his father, raising them hadn't been as seamless and easy as he'd surely thought it'd be. But while they'd never quite fallen into his footsteps like he wanted, they'd still been forced on a path of his choosing. And imagining that there had been, or that there was another path was almost as difficult as it was pointless.[break][break]

Even if the Guild hadn't snapped her up, Genie speculated that she'd still be maladjusted. Afraid to settle down and never able to be comfortable. It sounded like how Dane imagined the life of a Guild deserter to be. Or, more simply, those Gifted individuals who were aware of Hunters. Unable to exist with ease. To trust. Always casting fearful looks over their shoulders. He'd spent the majority of the past six years on defector duty, stalking those brave and stupid enough to think they had choices, and he'd seen it in most of them. The horrified fear upon realizing who he was; not a new, fresh fear, but one that'd been so apparently festering in and haunting them for days, weeks, even months sometimes. That pulled to the surface, unable to be hidden, when he finally found them. That manifested itself in every move they made in their desperate, feral attempt to escape him and live. He couldn't imagine that whatever length of time they'd spent hiding away was spent well. [break][break]

His gaze fell to the tabletop as she explained more; she'd never been to a proper school while with Ray, was always moving around, with Ray and after Ray, and that no one she had stayed with had ever been normal upon close inspection. Then she turned the question back on him — what would he be doing if not "under his father's thumb". The turn of phrase — the idea of it and, more importantly, how undeniably true it was — made him inwardly bristle. His fingers curled into his palm and he breathed a low laugh as he dropped his head further. He mulled it over.[break][break]

"I think I'd make a very good store greeter," he answered finally, the words simple and light. He lifted his gaze to hers and raised his brow. "You know, the ones that stand just inside the doors and are obnoxiously friendly and shit? Check receipts when someone appears a little too cool?" He grinned, lifting his beer to his lips to take a quick sip. Then, face scrunching, he lowered it back to the table to lean a bit forward and quickly add. "I'd say 'Halt! In the name of the law!' when someone makes a break for it." He nodded slowly with a faint purse to his lips, as if fondly thinking the whole idea over. "That's the life that was meant for me, I think. Plus," he paused, brow lifting further. "Cool vest." A smirk pulled at his lips and he slowly mimed tugging at the front ends of said, imagined vest (attempting to appear as smug and proud as possible). "And khaki slacks, probably? Whew. Knock 'em dead."[break][break]

He chuckled, then dropped his gaze back to his beer and returned his arms to the table. He turned the bottle in his palm, studying it, then finally shook his head, deciding that he could return the courtesy of a more serious and honest answer. She'd given him a lot — not only a lot more than he'd expected her to share but also a lot more than he'd typically be willing to sincerely listen to when it came to chatting to practical strangers at a bar. He raised his eyes. "No, uh... I think, in some ways... maybe a lot of ways, honestly... I was probably a bit luckier than you."[break][break]

"As weird as it sounds, despite all that I was exposed to and made to do even as a cute little boy, I think I had a fairly nice upbringing." He drummed his fingers lazily on the tabletop, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "It's probably owed a lot to my mom. She's not a Hunter. She's good. And she sort of made sure that the Guild wasn't our whole lives. Forced our father to make allowances." The drumming stopped and he almost, almost asked if she'd known her own mother. It was made clear already, in all that Genie had shared so far, that the woman hadn't been around for a very long time. But Dane wasn't quite certain that he wanted to poke what could be a sensitive topic, especially since he suspected already — going off what she said about Ray and the fate of his many, many wives — that her absence was likely a bit tragic. But still, he felt almost saddened by the idea that it seemed Genie hadn't had someone like Mona in her life. Someone to advocate for her. [break][break]

"We went to school. She even forced us to do extra-curriculars for a brief moment," Dane snorted a quiet laugh and lifted a hand to smother the threatening pull from his mouth as he remembered how wrong Dino had looked in a football jersey, and how he'd never made a game because he kept getting into fights with his teammates. "At least until assignments got too brutal and too demanding that we were too beat for it most of the time." Clubs had eventually been infeasible. They'd always been too busy. And while Mona had eventually let it slide, Dane was sure she had wanted nothing more than to be a screaming, supportive mom on some sideline. And he was sure, too, that she had begged for a lot more from Antonio. But he'd drawn a line somewhere. "But I grew up in the same house I was born in. We were wealthy. I had steady friends. Good and bad ones. Had a lot of those very same, easy problems you were so envious of. Exams. No date for prom. Grounded." He scoffed amusedly. [break][break]

"But like you said," he cleared his throat and straightened, pulling another shot glass before him. "Normal still isn't what I'd call it. And it's impossible to imagine my life as anything other than what it is. There's not a whole lot I can put down on a CV, after all." He hummed, then tipped his head and let his gaze travel slowly to the remaining three lemon drops at the center of the table before sifting back to her. "You know, if you take those last two shots, I'm betting you'll be ten times a better dancer."

[break]

you try to smile and it lasts for a while [break]
but they will always send you back to the start

Tag: Genesis Donovan [break]
Woops, this one ended up being a lot. ;v; [break]Give me a nudge for changes!

[newclass=.lizardstripe-text b]color:#1F2F22;font-size:8pt;font-family:Open Sans, sans serif;[/newclass]

[googlefont=Poppins][googlefont=Open Sans]

[Genesis Donovan]

And every time I think I've finally made it
I learn I'm farther away than I have ever been before

---

Her life now was actually as normal as she could picture it. She held a job outside of the Guild, though her attendance was shoddy even for the flexible position that she held. Imagining what life would be like away from the Guild was hard. She had always believed that if she hadn't become a Guild member then she would become one of their targets. Considering she had Ray as a father, it only made sense that she would end up on the radar sooner or later. Who knew, maybe she would have wound up joining just to spite him since they were hunting him already. More than likely, though, she’d be dead by now. Either by his hand or by a hunter, it didn’t matter, dead was dead.

“A store greeter?” Genie was surprised by the answer, though as he went on explaining, she pictured it and laughed. Maybe he was on to something. It could be the best sort of retirement plan, if Hunters were ever allowed to quit. Shoplifters would think twice about stealing if the big box stores hired people who weren’t really afraid to operate in the grey areas. “Would you even say ’thank you for your business’ as the customers leave?” She laughed again.

Even if it wasn’t an idyllic, story book childhood, the one that Dane described did sound closer to a typical childhood than what she’d experienced. As a teen, she would have envied him for it. The way he described his mother seemed like she was a force to be reckoned with. Maybe her own mother would have been the same, if Ray hadn't been able to strip her of her free will. “Your mother sounds like an incredible woman, especially to be able to stand up to your father like that.”

No matter how amazing his mother had been, he had still been stuck with his father. Genie imagined that being raised by Antonio Wayland was as brutal, if not more so, than being raised by her own father. Ray was a criminal, he was twisted and dark and didn’t care about putting his own child in danger time and time again. But he was not at the top of an entire organization, he didn’t have the same resources and reach that Antonio has. He didn’t hesitate to leave a dead body in their wake, but usually he was the one who was responsible. He taught her how to fight and how to use a gun, but those were as a last resort for her. She was expected to be in and out without being noticed. Her whole life revolved around blending in, going unnoticed. With Ray, and with the Guild. It didn’t matter.

“Ten times better? I seriously doubt that.” Genie shook her head. She was already three shots deep, one more and she would be properly drunk and she assumed it would have the opposite effect. Though, maybe that was part of the point. She wouldn’t care how stupid she looked at that point. “Although, I guess I have to admit it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, dancing, I mean.” She’d always been too self conscious to let herself even try to dance.

---

Dane Wayland
Let me know for changes or if you need more.

[Dane Wayland]

[nospaces]

AND YOU ACT SO FREE

you act so free; everybody's laughing because you act so free

[break]

[attr="class","lizardstripe-text"]His little regaling fantasy of becoming a store greeter earned him a couple of laughs and Dane smiled languidly at the sound. When Genie questioned whether he'd see the shoppers off courteously, he let his brow jump with exaggerated disbelief, as if shocked she'd imply him incapable of such a thing. "Of course I would! Those khaki slacks come with a lot of responsibility, you know." He tipped his chin, eyes lidding as he poised his face seriously. "The customers are family, earn that nametag, service with a smile, and all that. I'd be a perfect gentleman. Maybe even the occasional Employee of the Month." [break][break]

He let the playing fall away and only dipped his head with a blatantly fond smile when she called his mother 'incredible'. He could feel the shots making a slow settle in his gut and embraced the cozy warmth of it while his lips curled further. He nodded slowly in agreement. "That she is." He considered again asking after Genie's own mother but supposed that he had left a big enough opening for her to mention the woman if she wanted to — the fact she hadn't meant that what Dane suspected to be true... probably was. And, if that was the case, he wouldn't bring it up.[break][break]

She was dubious that she'd be a better dancer with the additional shots but admitted that the whole thing hadn't been as bad as she thought it would be. Dane snorted a soft laugh. He'd have to get her back out there. "Yeah, dancing's great. And really..." he straightened in his seat, mouth tucking thoughtfully as he pulled his last lemon drop before him. "Isn't everything we do kinda just like a dance?" He nodded slowly, the beginning buzz in his brain allowing him the contemplative whimsy. "Our relationships with other people... our jobs... how we go about our every day, fighting and... well, all just one big, unscripted dance, right?" He looked back up at her, flashing a broad, close-lipped grin with a tip to his head. "And the less you care about how you look and what others think of you, the more fun it is. Alcohol always helps that."[break][break]

As if making a point, he tossed back the last of his half of the shots, pushed the empty glass with the others, and then settled back with a slow, happy sigh. He drew his beer back before him and breathed deep. Then, after a moment, levered forward again. "Hey..." he started, voice quieter and less joking as he curled his fingers into his palm and lifted his steady gaze to hers.[break][break]

"What would you have done, if you came across your father as I did?" A brow quirked curiously but he kept the rest of his face passive, ignoring the phantom feel of a twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Would you have killed him?" He tipped his head as a thought occurred to him and added with a resigned roll of his eyes: "I mean, yeah, he had a lot of money on his head—" he lifted a finger, brow giving a small, imploring leap "—which I didn't receive, by the way." He paused to let that linger, as if offering it as some sort of consolation: 'Sorry I killed your Dad, if it makes you feel better, I didn't get paid for it.' [break][break]

He dropped his hand and adjusted in his seat, leaning more casually upon a forearm and elbow while he rolled his tilted beer bottle in a slow, lazy circle upon its bottom rim. "But I mean, bounty completely aside. How would you have done it? Would you... have had a conversation with him first? You know... said things you maybe needed to say and stuff like that? Do you think you would have been angry? Or sad? Or..." he thinned his lips with another small shrug. "Felt nothing?"

[break]

you try to smile and it lasts for a while [break]
but they will always send you back to the start

Tag: Genesis Donovan [break]
Give me a nudge for changes!

[newclass=.lizardstripe-text b]color:#1F2F22;font-size:8pt;font-family:Open Sans, sans serif;[/newclass]

[googlefont=Poppins][googlefont=Open Sans]

[Genesis Donovan]

And every time I think I've finally made it
I learn I'm farther away than I have ever been before

---

His depiction of working as a store greeter gave Genie a vivid image of a middle aged manager, touting the company propaganda to all the employees like it was gospel. She’d filled in at enough different companies that she’d met the type many times. Customer service was very similar, be it at a retail store, doctor’s office, or a small business.

When he mentioned making employee of the month, she imagined a wall with all the framed pictures, how competitive it might be. Did it really mean anything, to make employee of the month? Or was it just a way to show off, to display that you sacrificed enough for the company that they celebrated you to promote the same with their other employees?

Dane compared their very lives to one big dance. The metaphor wasn’t completely off base, though Genie imagined that their specific circumstances looked somewhat different. She was so used to staying under the radar, out of the limelight. She had grown uncomfortable with anything that would draw attention to her. Genie picked up one more shot and downed it before looking back across the table at Dane. “That’s really the thing though, isn’t it? How do you just not care? Alcohol helps for a bit, yeah, but that always wears off.” She wasn’t sure if there was an answer, at least not anything she wanted to hear.

The conversation took a turn back towards the serious. Dane’s question was a fair one. What would she have done, had she been the one to happen across her father? “They always seem to find a way to avoid the bounty pay out when they can, don’t they?” She latched onto that while she considered what she would have done. She shook her head and released a breath slowly.

“As much as I thought about what I’d do, for years and years, I really don’t know. I’d like to think I would be able to have just taken him out, but I would have probably frozen up.” It was perhaps more honest than she should have been, more honest than she would have been if she was sober. But it was no huge secret to the people that did actually know her that she had a tendency to flee when things got overwhelming. After everything her father had done to her, all the nightmares she still had about him, as much as she hated, she was still terrified of him, of falling under his control again.

“The most likely outcome, had I happened upon him, would have been me disappearing and texting Toby to either meet me, or get someone else to meet me.” Genie sat back in the booth and crossed her arms, her thumb pressing against the inside of her upper arm out of nervous habit. “He’s been the boogie man for so long. I’m not sad, I wouldn’t have been sad. Maybe mad, though.” Her feelings about Ray were so complicated. She was glad that he was gone, glad that she’d never have to see him again. She was also glad that it hadn't been her.

---

Dane Wayland
Let me know for changes.

[Dane Wayland]

[nospaces]

AND YOU ACT SO FREE

you act so free; everybody's laughing because you act so free

[break]

[attr="class","lizardstripe-text"]Genie tossed back one of the last two shots and, when she looked at him, Dane let his mouth tug just barely. When she spoke, his brow gave an answering leap and he pulled the remaining shot glass before himself with his free hand. Sure, it was the last one and part of her half, but — she'd been obviously pacing herself and well, the pace had been a little slow (by his standards). "That's the great thing about alcohol," he mused, dropping his eye to study the tiny glass as he gave it a slow spin between his middle finger and thumb. "You can always just get more." His smile broadened into something a little more cheeky, then he winked and swallowed it down.[break][break]

"Anyway," he continued immediately after a satisfied smack, gathering all the emptied glasses back on the tray he'd brought them to the table on. "Caring is a lot harder than not, if you ask me. Especially for people like us. And I've always done things the easy way, so..." he shrugged, then his movements stilled as he tipped his head; eyes narrowing for the fraction of a second while he gave the admittance its fair consideration. His face smoothed and his lips spread again. "Well, easy for me, anyway."[break][break]

Very quickly after turning nine — when his father first took him and Dino to accompany him during an assignment — Dane learned that "caring" made little sense in his life. What good would it ever do him? It had made things infinitely harder for his brother, what with his big, wet eyes and shaking fingers. It would have made things much harder for him, too, once he began to grow a certain reputation. If he'd cared what people thought of him, doing what he did, doing those things wouldn't have been so easy. If he cared about himself, whether he died or not, then fighting would have been riddled with hesitance. Ironically, it probably would have got him killed long ago. If he cared about his partners — the select few aside — he might have shunned away from using them to lever himself out of sticky situations. [break][break]

Not caring sometimes made a mess — most notably the type others cleaned up — but caring would make bigger messes. Messes for him. And that was far less fun.[break][break]

Pretending to care had its occasional perks. It made some people more trusting. Hunting acquaintances less wary. Girls more willing to fall in his bed. But really caring was only heartache. As much as he'd like to pretend he was immune to it, he wasn't. And he knew that — knew it for the weakness that it was. He'd cared for Silene. And his father had weaponized that. He'd cared for MK. And that had made her betrayal of him far more bruising than the simple (and respectable) outmaneuvering he would have seen it as had he not cared. He cared for the Gatsby girls and it wouldn't take much pressure at all for him to put his own life on the line for them. He'd cared for his brother and what had that done for him in the end?[break][break]

He dismissed the thoughts and settled back to listen as Genie answered how she imagined it would go, had she been the one to stumble upon Ray instead of him. She supposed it was likely that she'd... freeze. And while Dane's knee-jerk reaction was to want to scoff, he could only slowly nod. His lips pursed thoughtfully. He supposed it was likely he would, too, were he given the chance to kill his own father. What a foreign, unimaginable imbalance it would be to have the man before him, powerless and unable to touch him. As much as Dane postured — snarled his loathing and made obvious his hate — his father had a way of cutting through the peacocking like a knife through butter. Exposing it for the childish mask that it was, often without needing to say or do a thing. [break][break]

But he wouldn't freeze for long. [break][break]

"Mad's good," Dane mused, tapping his fingers on the tabletop. "Give him the what for, y'know, for fucking up your life. Fucking you up, I imagine." He wrinkled his nose and offered a light shrug of his shoulders. "No offense." Sucking at his teeth, Dane dropped his gaze to the tabletop for a considering moment, then glanced back up. "Obviously, I didn't care about your father or that he'd killed a lot of hunters. Happens all the time — no sleep lost over people like us. But if I'd known he had a kid, and that that kid was you, I'd have made it a little more difficult for him. Not that it'd change anything. But still... no one deserves a boogie man for a Dad." He sipped in a regretful breath, then looked decidedly more cheerful a moment later. "But I was pretty merciful. It was quicker than he deserved."[break][break]

He finished his beer and set it on the tray as well, then dropped both palms to the tabletop and fixed her with a more lively look. "Anywho... unless you have any more questions for me... Ray-related or about my perfect Sunday — thanks for asking by the way." His mouth quirked and his eyes narrowed. "Then what else is there? We could spin around the floor some more. Test that alcohol theory... see if you can figure out the unfathomable intricacy that is not caring. Or I can go spin around and you can do... whatever it is you do when not talking to me."

[break]

you try to smile and it lasts for a while [break]
but they will always send you back to the start

Tag: Genesis Donovan [break]
Give me a nudge for changes!

[newclass=.lizardstripe-text b]color:#1F2F22;font-size:8pt;font-family:Open Sans, sans serif;[/newclass]

[googlefont=Poppins][googlefont=Open Sans]

[Genesis Donovan]

And every time I think I've finally made it
I learn I'm farther away than I have ever been before

---

What he was saying made sense. It probably was a lot easier not caring. However, her anxiety around other people made that next to impossible, and Genie wasn’t a heavy drinker on a regular basis. Though lately, there had been more than a few nights where she downed more alcohol than she normally allowed herself. Like this one, some situations just seemed to call for breaking some of her own rules. “Well, you have a point. I guess I just don’t know how to let stuff go, I obsess over stupid things and can’t get them out of my head.”

Obsess was absolutely the right word for how she held on to things. Replaying conversations in her mind over and over again, feeling stupid for the things she’d said or regretting what she hadn't said, but should have.

A smirk and small chuckle met Dane’s ’no offense’. She could see why he’d tack that on, perhaps some people would take offense to the assumption that their lives had been somehow fucked up, that their parents had been responsible for ruining them. Not Genie. She was well aware that her father had messed her up, and after that there was Toby, indoctrinating her into the Guild, showing her all the ways she’d been broken and fucked up by Ray over the years. There were the obvious ways, the control and manipulation, the neglect, the abuse. But there were also so many small ways that she hadn't recognized before. Isolation, training her to be an accessory to his crimes, a lack of proper education, never letting her gain footing in a new place before they were moving on again.

Her life with Ray had been constant turmoil, constant movement. She could never slow down or catch her breath. That really didn’t change much once she was with the Guild.

“I’d imagine that anything would have been quicker than he deserved.” She wasn’t sad that he was gone, but she didn’t feel the sense of closure that she hoped would come along with his death. Maybe one day she would. Or perhaps she was too broken for even time to close the wounds that ran so deeply. “I think it’s a myth, by the way. That dads exist who don’t mess their kids up. I mean, some are better or nicer or at least care about their kids, but even those dads fuck their kids up.”

She’d taken up too much of his time already, inserted herself where she didn’t belong. He’d been nice about it, contrary to her expectations. “You’re right. How rude of me when you’ve been kind enough to indulge my questions. What would your ‘perfect Sunday’ be?” She was genuinely curious what he would answer.

---

Dane Wayland
Let me know for changes.

[Dane Wayland]

[nospaces]

AND YOU ACT SO FREE

you act so free; everybody's laughing because you act so free

[break]

[attr="class","lizardstripe-text"]Dane's eyes flickered closed when Genie commented that any death would have been quicker than Ray deserved. He nodded his agreement, slow and deep. Something about the admittance made him fleetingly appreciative. A lot of people — even people like them — still felt themselves inclined to be merciful. To be forgiving. No matter what'd been done to them, they felt no hunger for retribution or vengeance. As if they somehow owed it to the world to be kinder than they'd ever been treated. As if they'd somehow be rewarded for the silly nobility with anything but a blatant lack of satisfaction. Some people would have wished their abusers a quick and humane death despite everything. And Dane simply couldn't fathom it. [break][break]

His lips quirked as she added, almost as an aside, that she believed fathers that didn't fuck up their kids simply... weren't real. "You think those Dads only exist in the movies?" He gave the notion its due consideration, face scrunching with obvious (somewhat drunken) thought while his gaze trained beyond her. Then he gave a faint shake of his head and looked back at her, mouth pulling awry. "Nah, I can't believe that." He wrinkled his nose. "Our fathers don't get the 'All Dads Are Bad' excuse. No way." [break][break]

When she inquired about his ideal morning, he couldn't decide if she was being sarcastic or genuine, but he found himself looking for an answer regardless. [break][break]

"My perfect Sunday..." Dane's hands shifted across the table, clasping at his elbows while he tipped his chin and narrowed his eyes; gaze trailing upward. The club ceilings were high. A couple of abandoned balloons in varying stages of deflation moseyed about one another and broken paper streamers from parties long-passed fluttered in the pull of various fans. He watched them dance in the club's flashing lights, trying to think. [break][break]

"I wake up in the bed of the woman I was talking to the night before," he started finally, keeping his gaze trained thoughtfully on a rafter. Typically, it'd be the most sleep he'd gotten in a long time. The least fitful sleep. Actually restful sleep. But he didn't have to mention that part. No one needed to know the true desperation with which he sometimes sought a person's company. He drummed his fingers along his arm, eye sifting to the next ceiling beam and mouth tucking briefly before he continued. "Maybe I know her name, maybe I don't. Since it's a perfect morning, I'm up first and she's a heavy sleeper. Doesn't wake when I leave." [break][break]

Finally, his gaze fell to level upon Genie once more. Making a decision, he sucked in a slow breath and settled back in his seat; arms folding across his chest and head tipping from one side to the other. [break][break]

"Somehow I worked into conversation the night before what her perfect morning might look like." One corner of his mouth quirked into a faint smirk. "Ideally, her answer would have been relatively uncomplicated. Like say, for example..." he tipped his head and uncrossed an arm to sift a hand lazily through the air. "Oh, I don't know... a couple of treats from a nearby bakery." The smirk deepened and he huffed a quick, amused breath, eyes pinching briefly closed while he shifted in his seat and dropped his hand to the table, fingers curled loosely. [break][break]

"Again, if it's a perfect morning, I imagine it was a night I wouldn't mind repeating every so often. So I go and I get her treats. The line's not long. The baristas are friendly. They tell a couple of bad jokes. I laugh, just to be polite. I come back. I leave the goodies on the table with a note. Well," he paused to roll his eyes and shrug his shoulders. "Probably less of a note and more of a doodle... on the back of an unimportant envelope or some junkmail coupons left on her counter. I'm imagining... a howling wolf next to four-and-a-half, maybe even five stars, and my phone number." [break][break]

"And —" he lifted his fingers from the table, showing his palm while he tucked the corners of his mouth into a nonchalant frown and gave the faintest, conceding shake of his head. "That's it. I leave, unaccosted. A perfect, simple morning." Thinking a moment longer, he folded all his fingers down except the pointer and lifted his brow. "Probably goes without saying, but the Guild doesn't call on me and I have no hangover."












[break]

you try to smile and it lasts for a while [break]
but they will always send you back to the start

Tag: Genesis Donovan [break]
Give me a nudge for changes!

[newclass=.lizardstripe-text b]color:#1F2F22;font-size:8pt;font-family:Open Sans, sans serif;[/newclass]

[googlefont=Poppins][googlefont=Open Sans]

[Genesis Donovan]

And every time I think I've finally made it
I learn I'm farther away than I have ever been before

[attr="class","GENIEpost"]

---

Dane didn’t agree with Genie’s assessment on all fathers screwing up their kids. At first she wanted to argue her point, to give anecdotes she’d heard over the years from people who came from “good” families. But he added on that their fathers don’t get that excuse, and some understanding shifted in place. It would be easy to dismiss both of their father’s shortcomings if her view was correct, if all fathers really did screw their kids up. “Maybe I just haven’t seen a good example yet.” She could imagine that. After her father, the other men she’d been around were all a part of the Guild. And she didn’t generally open herself up and talk to other people, swap stories about family and growing up. It was absolutely possible that she had a skewed sample. Just like so many other beliefs she held, this one could be wrong.

She watched his eyes move upward as he began describing his perfect Sunday. At first she thought he was being honest, but as he went on she couldn’t keep her eyes from rolling. It was possible that there was truth to what he was saying, but it was also possible that he was just messing around, testing the limits to see if he could get a rise out of her. If he was playing a game, he was very skilled. If it was not a game, she didn’t really want to consider any of those implications. She’d already had too many shots to keep herself from turning pink as he continued on, however much she tried to ignore the clear callback to their earlier conversation on the dance floor. “What an.. interesting perfect Sunday.” Genie wasn’t sure she trusted herself to make further comments about it. She wanted to ask if that was really his perfect Sunday, but she figured there had to be at least some truth to it. How much, she really wasn’t certain.

Genie glanced at the dance floor. All the people dancing seemed so content, so carefree. She was keeping Dane from being one of those people, though he’d been very amenable about it. “Thank you. For answering my questions, and for the rest of this chat.” She stood, feeling uncomfortable and exposed again. She couldn’t explain it, but she was feeling the strong urge to bolt that was so common for her. “I’ll let you get back to enjoying your evening.”

She didn’t wait for him to say anything else, even if that would have been the more polite thing to do. Genie started making her way toward the exit, waiting until she was well blended into the crowd of people to go invisible again and make a quick rush to the door. She didn’t regret confronting Dane, it had gone better than she could have hoped for, but now she had so much to think about, to process. It did feel like a certain amount of closure over her father’s death had been given, but now there were so many other questions that had sprung up, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for all of them.

---

Dane Wayland
Let me know for changes. Her tendency to flee kicked in hardcore, especially because she was actually finding Dane to be nice, unlike her preconception of him.

[newclass=".GENIEpost b"]color: #C2B280;[/newclass]

[Dane Wayland]

[nospaces]

AND YOU ACT SO FREE

you act so free; everybody's laughing because you act so free

[break]

[attr="class","lizardstripe-text"]With a level lack of expectation — a practiced and patient neutrality — Dane watched Genie's gaze pull back to the dance floor, her face slightly pinkened by his sneaking attempt at inviting himself into her "ideal morning". Even before she began it, he could see the refusal turning in her head. Inwardly, he chuckled. Understandable, really. She'd sought him out to discuss her father, not sleep with his murderer. [break][break]

But he took his shots where he could. No harm, no foul. At least she didn't seem affronted. That was always less fun. [break][break]

When she stood, his eyes coolly followed her and he lifted his brow at her thanks and the swift, succinct excusal she made. He dipped his head with an acknowledging nod, mouth tugging at the corners. "Sure. Any time," he mused in response, voice half a chuckle and lips pulling infinitesimally wider as he watched her make a rather hasty retreat. "See ya around," he called after her, then — as he thought both of her Gift and his shining reputation — added to himself, quieter: "Or probably I won't, heh." [break][break]

She disappeared into the crowd and, after a long, considering moment, Dane sipped in a recentering breath and finished his beer. He placed it on the tray with the empty shot glasses, swiped the loose bits of sugar that'd fallen to the tabletop upon it as well, and then slipped from the booth with Genie's untouched bottle in his palm. He lifted it to his lips as he watched the dancefloor with fresh appraisal. Their conversation had been far from the annoying buzzkill he'd suspected it would be when she first approached him — on the contrary, he was boozed up now and in an even better mood. [break][break]

But the night was still young.

[break]

you try to smile and it lasts for a while [break]
but they will always send you back to the start

Tag: Genesis Donovan [break]
Thread end!

[newclass=.lizardstripe-text b]color:#1F2F22;font-size:8pt;font-family:Open Sans, sans serif;[/newclass]

[googlefont=Poppins][googlefont=Open Sans]