(One-shot exploring the poisoning of Diego Armando. Lyrics by Rob Dougan, used without permission. Sorry.)


-- Why don't you come quietly, my love? --

August 27, 3:55pm
District Courthouse Cafeteria

'So, butterfly, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?'

He slides easily into a chair and slams his mug down on the plastic table. She takes a seat opposite. 'Mr Armando, there's something I want to tell you... but I'm afraid.' Her eyes shine, and he sees her as though from a distance: she is a beauty. To distract himself, he swigs the coffee, the bitterness as a welcome contrast to the sickly sweetness sitting across from him.

'It's about... Mr Fawles.'

He is instantly alert, although nothing in his lop-sided smile betrays that. 'Yeah?' Something red flickers in the window, but he focuses on the large brown eyes instead. The scent of his coffee calms him. Strong and dark and oh so bitter...

'There's something I think you should know.'

The red flashes again, and this time her eyes are drawn as well. He lets his gaze leave hers and watches the red butterfly bump against the glass for a second, two, three... Another one joins it, its flight erratic and panicky.

He looks back to find her looking down at the table, as innocent as a rose. Even indoors she holds her parasol, warding the sun from her transparent skin. His fingers curl around the mug and he props his head on his other hand. 'Go ahead. I'm all ears.'

'Mr Fawles... Before he died, he...'

A third butterfly throws itself at the window.

'He...' She breaks off with one of her cute little sobs. 'I'm so sorry, this is very hard for me.'

Yeah, right... 'It's OK. Take your time.' He brings the mug to his mouth, but is distracted by yet another butterfly joining the other three, a living, fluttering red stain on the glass.

She has paused as well. He glances back to her to find she is watching him, and a rock of dread drops into his stomach.

'Mr Fawles...'

He sips the coffee.

'... was as stupid as you, Mr Lawyer.'

He blinks.

The solid bulk of fear bursts into flames inside him, and he gags. The bitter taste of coffee is replaced by the steel-sharp tang of blood. Horrified, he staggers up and back, and knocks over the chair. Pain lances through him, and his body convulses; the mug falls to the floor and shatters.

She has stood, left, and now stands at the door, her expression unlike anything he has ever witnessed. He tries to speak but chokes, spewing the stinging blood from his cramping stomach. She smiles, cruelly, turns and is gone.

The butterflies push against the glass.

He sinks down into an agony of redness, and the bitter dark.

You didn't stop to look around
You were gone before I hit the ground
You went on your way and no prayer was said
You left me for dead

I won't stop, no, till hell is your home
You think that you're safe, but oh no
I was choking on blood as the light filled your eyes
You left me for dead