Even when the little bitch was playing the part of prag to a tee, carefully maintaining and obeying every rule Beecher still found a way to be insolent.
Like now.
Beecher was a little too cheerful, a little to eager... a little too… helpful really. Every chore was done without being told, a compliant docile prag offered up to him.
He eyed him, and was almost certain he wasn't high… so just what was he up to? "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
The not quite smile (but definitely not frown either) slid off Beecher's face leaving him staring at Vern with the blank hatred that was normally there. "I don't know what you're talking about," there was the smallest pause as Vern raised an eyebrow and Beecher finished off the statement. "Sir."
"You. Playing the happy homemaker here."
"Isn't that what you told me to do…sir?"
"I told you to do the chores prag. You're the one so fucking … chipper about it."
Beecher's mouth twisted, "Yea, its the highlight of my day, only surpassed by seeing your f-"
The rest of the sentence, probably fortunately for Beecher, was cut off as Vern backhanded him across the mouth. "Don't get uppity with me prag."
"Sorry sir." There was the slightest whimper in the words. Thus entering Beecher three, the one who always appeared after getting smacked around. The soft meek scared Beecher. Vern's personal favorite.
"Now, think about this carefully before answering, what the hell were you up to earlier?"
"I wasn't up to anything, sir."
He almost believed him and he would almost drop it if he didn't know for a fact that Beecher was hiding something. It became easy to read a person after you've done to them all the things Schillinger did to toBIas on a nightly basis. "You were up to something."
Beecher was starting to look distinctly uncomfortable. "I was just – fuck.. I don't know. Making things easy, all right? I was trying to avoid something like… this."
Schillinger kept a blank face, not sure what to do about that declaration. The longer the silence continued the more Beecher fidgeted. It was awkward – like Beecher had never meant to word it that way and Schillinger … kind of liked the sound of it a little too much for his own good, so he lashed out. "Making it easier for me after a hard day, huh, aren't you just the doting wife. How sweet. Well its been a long day why don't you-"
The tone was sickly sweet and Beecher was getting more and more agitated until he finally snapped out, "Stockholm syndrome!"
And…well… Vern didn't actually know what that meant, but Beecher was flushing like it was something awfully embarrassing. But there was no way in hell he was gonna tell the bitch he didn't know what it meant.
Mostly because he was sure Beecher used words he didn't know on purpose just to aggravate him. Vern just knew it.
"Well…" He trailed off unsure of what to say. As he continued to stare Beecher ducked his head more, hands behind his back. Whatever was going on with… whatever it was that Beecher had said had Beecher submissive in a way that usually Vern had to work a lot harder to get.
He moved forward, invading Beecher's personal space, "Why don't we go take a shower?"
Beecher's eyes briefly flickered up, wary and enraged all in one, but he obediently began to undress. He couldn't help but smirk as skin was uncovered. If it led to this kind of Beecher he'd have to look up this Stockholm thing.