A loud chirping came from Chris' monitor, followed by a similar chirping from Wesker's. Both open their emails quickly, Chris failing in his oh-so-subtle attempts to glance over to Wesker's computer, and the blond fairing a little better in his quiet glances.
"Mwaha asks…" There was a long silence. Wesker paused in reading over his own message, fingers stopping abruptly in their clicking (it was entirely likely he wasn't typing anything at all, and simply trying to look cool). He tore his eyes from his own monitor to settle them on the BSAA member. "Well, Chris?"
"I… well, ah….?" The thirty-five year old zombie slayer that had seen more grotesque horrors than even the sickest minds could imagine… was floored. Occasionally he blinked, so he couldn't be dead. In fact, it looked like a twitch was starting just above his left eyebrow. Slowly Chris' face turned to one of anger, and the blond nearby heaved a heavy sigh.
"Well?"
"I'll tell you what I'd do. I'd…"
"Chris. You have to read the question aloud first."
"What? I'm not reading this out loud!"
"If you don't, no one will know what it says." Wesker replied smoothly, as if he were talking to a small child. That description wasn't too far off.
"Can't we just move on to the next question?" Grumbled Chris after a moment of silence.
"Well that doesn't seem fair… Here, let me see." Wesker rose, only for Chris to hunch further over the computer. "No." The blond sighed evenly, then sat back down. "You can't just choose not to answer certain questions. The people have a right to satisfy their curiousity."
"A scientist would say that."
"I prefer the term 'God'."
Chris grumbled, to which Albert rose a pale eyebrow. Chris gave a defeated sigh.
"Fine. Mwaha asks… 'What would you do if you saw your sister Clair and Leon having…" He coughed politely, Wesker's eyes boring into him despite the glasses. Chris hurriedly continued under his breath; "Hot dirty sex in your bed." Wesker smirked, further infuriating the brunet. "And…?" "And is killing Leon an option?" Growled Chris. Wesker shrugged, to which the gunman nodded sharply. "Then that's what I'd do. Next question."
Wesker's smile faded to a smaller smirk, but stayed amused. With a flourish of gloved fingers over the keyboard, he brought up the next message. "This one is also from Mwaha…" Chris grinned cruelly. Please let it be embarrassing. Please let it be embaressing. The tyrant chuckled; clearly it was not what Chris had hoped.
"Mwaha says; 'Wesker I star star love you'. Why thank you Mwaha, I love myself as well." Chris muttered something under his breath, before seeming to perk up. "What does star star mean?" Wesker shrugged, fixing his glasses and leaning back in his chair. "I assume it was for emphasis."
"Oh."
Chirping came again, from Chris' computer – Wesker glanced over, then folded his hands behind his head and leaned back. Chris went from looking shocked, to disturbed, to disgusted, to a red rivalling a beat. "Uhh, it says I can't read this one out loud." Wesker rose an eyebrow, which was lost amongst his sunglasses. "Pardon?" "You're not allowed to hear it."
Within an instant the blond was hovering over his shoulder, his computer chair still spinning from the force. Chris gave a strangled, "Hey!" before attempting to cover the monitor with his body. "Move." Growled Albert, and when Chris refused to comply a boot slammed into Redfield's computer chair, sending it and its occupant across the room.
"Now then."
Wesker leaned over the desk, eyes scanning the monitor. Chris grunted, throwing something in Wesker's general direction that missed. There was a brief moment of confusion etched on the tyrant's face, then he looked impassive once more. Without turning to Chris (who was steadily getting up and trying to right the chair that was half pinned under another desk) he asked; "What is 'yaoi'?"
Chris flushed again, shaking the chair violently before dislodging it and stumbling backwards, nearly losing his footing once more. Irritated, the gunman marched over to where Wesker was and shoved him hard with his shoulder, setting the chair down and glaring up at Wesker. "Do you always make a habit of snooping?"
Wesker shrugged elegantly. "Now I've read it; you can read it aloud." The blond moved to his chair with just a little more satisfaction than Chris wanted to see. Then, some obscene part of his mind reasoned he could make the other just as awkward. Redfield drew a breath to calm himself, then slowly began a careful, flat explanation of what yaoi was. When he finished, and looked to Wesker in anticipation of gaping jaws and a full on blush, he was met with the usual calm, impassive expression. "Oh." The male said simply, then typed something on the computer.
Chris ground his teeth.
"The question, from Tntfriday13 is; 'So.. Chris, what do you think about all the yaoi art and fanfictions about you and Wesker? Smexy right?! '" Chris strained to pronounce the word 'yaoi' correctly. "No, I don't think it's 'smexy'. Wesker killed my friends, tried to kill me, betrayed me, and I hate him. There's nothing sexual about it."
The blond muttered something, waving Chris off when the brunet asked him to clarify.
"Satisfied?" Chris asked, to which Wesker shrugged again. "I am neither satisfied nor dissatisfied; it wasn't my question to ask or answer."
"Whatever."
Wesker smirked. "Whatever indeed. The next question is also from Tntfriday13, who asks; 'Okay, Wesker. Which way would you rather have your Chris? Bent over the table or on a nice comfy bed covered in whip cream?"
There was the audible sound of a head thumping against a desk; Chris was apparently trying to bludgeon himself to death. His monitor displayed a lovely string of, "DGAHHBERGEGRERVAEEEEEFAERGHB GVRHATHEH EARWAHHA". Wesker smiled cruelly.
"Well, certainly, there's an allure to bending him over a table. Less struggling that way. A bed seems somehow too… romantic. Though the thought of whip cream is certainly entertaining."
"I hate you." Came the muffled voice of Chris, amidst the clacking and thumping of head-on-keyboard. Wesker merely grinned. "I know. Oh, she's apparently a fan of the pairing as well."
"Wasn't that obvious?" The sound was still muffled, which only amplified Wesker's complete joy. "I suppose."
Wesker's computer suddenly chirped, signalling another letter – it was certainly fortunate it was directed towards him, as Chris was still busy trying to beat himself into a concussion.
"This next one is from Kiki," He began, more to himself than the slightly dazed but still determined Redfield. "It says; 'Since you're obviously alive and well, how did you manage to survive the fall in lava and the two missiles to the head? Don't get me wrong, I'm happy you're alive, but still...one has to wonder.'"
Chris stopped bashing his head to look at Albert. "You know, I wondered that myself." Another cheeky grin sent Chris back to hitting his head.
"Now, it would hardly be interesting for me to reveal all of my secrets. Besides, to explain would leave one open to interpreting flaws, and it's a cliché for villains. I am above such clichés."
Chris laughed harshly, getting the blond to stare at him, one eyebrow visible over the rim of his glasses. "Is something funny?"
"Wesker, you are the biggest cliché to villain history. I don't think you could have any more clichés!"
"What are you talking about? I hardly th—"
"You wear black. And leather. And long coats. Yes or no?"
"Well yes, but—"
"You have red eyes, yes or no?"
"Well… yes, but—"
"You want to rule the world, yes or no?"
"Is there a point to this interrogation, Redfield?"
"I'm proving my point."
Wesker's mood had noticeably soured, though he gave a strained smile and waved the other off. "Irregardless, that's for me to know and others to learn."
"Ah ah ah, Wesker," Now it was Chris' turn to raise from his chair and stalk over to the blond. Wesker showed immense self control in not attacking the man hovering over him, or at least rising in challenge. Instead, he oozed self control. Chris continued on, leaning in close to try and make the other more uncomfortable. It worked, though the only sign was a brief flash of red behind black sunglasses. "You have to answer all the questions, remember? You can't just pick and choose?"
In a deliberate denial of Chris attempt to unnerve him, Wesker leaned back in his chair, hands crossed behind his head and legs stretched out, crossing at the ankles. "Fine. If you must know, I am not particularly susceptible to lava. I regenerate more quickly than it destroys my body, and after using uroboros to connect with a column I was able to pull myself to a platform outside of the lava and heal entirely."
"But you had no head…"
"You are aware uroboros functions without the traditional senses of humans? I simply relied on that."
"Uroboros is weak to fire." Chris said, suddenly. Wesker smiled.
"Is it? Or is fire merely the way to separate the bodies of those rejected from the virus itself?"
"I saw it die, Wesker. I killed enough of them."
Wesker continued to smile coolly. "Believe what you want, Chris. Irregardless, I'm alive,"
"Unfortunately."
"And, given the option, I will not be returning to pits of lava any time soon."
Chris paused, leaving from where he'd been standing (he couldn't take the smug look of the other) and returning to his own monitor. His pointer fingers hovered over the keys, before a thought crossed his mind. "Hey, Wesker! Why aren't you still infected with Uroboros, then?"
He still smiled. "Who's to say I'm not? I was able to grow it at will… reducing it is a similar concept." Chris sneered, shaking his head. "You're unbelievable."
Wesker sat back up, shrugging. "So, about that table…"
The loud thumping of a head hitting the desk sounded, Wesker sighing pleasurably as he waited for the next comments.
OOC: There it is, the first chapter! I hope the formatting wasn't too weird. xD
