The Game of Waiting
'Cause I threw in the obvious,
Just to see what I've got
Behind the eyes of a fallen angel
Eyes of a tragedy...
The problem with being a thinking man nowadays is that he had begun to act that way even outside of his line of work. That particular mentality was fine when he was trying to set a trap to catch the many enemies that always attempt to kill him and very few had bested him in being conniving, except for perhaps Aggregor. Embarrassingly, he was overstepped every move he made in an attempt to get the upper hand. In retrospect, he was perhaps at his weakest mental capacity at the time because of the increased aggression and impulsivity fueled by the new version of his watch.
Though with the advent of a new, apparently better weapon - that's questionable, he was returned to form when it came to planning. He was even forced more often than not to become even more ingenious and creative because it never gave him what he wanted. And it timed out inconsistently.
So this actually pushed a progression in his thinking, and he had become a man who waited. Like she was prone to do back when she still knew who he was.
Due to their circumstances, they had also recently become prone to avoid each other. Him, in the knowledge that she wasn't supposed to know him all that well past being her classmate who she barely spoke to. Her, because there was a coldness about her and a suspicion and a deep-seated fear perhaps from the fact that she had so much of her experiences ripped from her in the hard reset of the universe and looking at him equated to being as uncomfortable as staring at a dead man - a dead memory.
So he had grown accustomed to simply playing the game of waiting. He played with all the other beautiful girls that he stumbled across, except for her. Specifically not her.
The game went on as follows: he was charming, he flirted, he smiled boyishly, as one did when you wanted to play the role of the attracted. More often than not, oh, he very much was. They usually were just as attracted. But the edge of the game was the silence. Always in silence did one truly realise the extent of how deep the berth of that absence was. Like some strange self-propagating confirmation bias initiated by the underhanded and the cruel. Which he had become prone to do. Not that he was saying it was a good thing of himself.
For the most part, they danced along. An equal smile, a bounce of great words between each other to suggest some kind of tension. Then he would wait. Always for the same thing: that kind of cold, quiet anger of someone who would slowly realise that he was pretending to be alright. That those eyes that he looked back into would be offended that he even tried to hide through a veil of security, because she saw right through him. Saw the hurt, the difficulty and the struggle and didn't want him hurting the man that she cared for by going through it alone. Instead, he was always met with the same kind of blank, continuously flirtatious smile. Just in turn he continued to smile, always being the celebrity chick magnet that everyone knew he was.
Turning to his new partner, who he was starting to get quite used to and actually genuinely like, he would ask if he'd have a chance with the new girl. Said partner would just look blankly, somewhat cluelessly, at him as if he had grown a second head. He'd laugh to himself because that response was always priceless. Rook was quickly becoming a great part of this team, they made a great tandem.
The game of waiting was one of the longest games that he'd ever played, one that he didn't even enjoy very much but one he was slowly getting used to. It was even a game he hadn't noticed that he played - but pretty much reinforced a truth about him upon the realization that it existed: that he was a jerk. But that he didn't care all that much.
...Apparently
Nothing at all
You don't see me
You don't see me at all.
A/N: Song lyrics from 3 Libras by A Perfect Circle.