And another one! It took me a while to rewrite this one, I needed to make some better connections, but before I realized it, this chapter became 23 pages. So a bit of alot to read, but I hope you like it!
Enjoy!
From the few times the trollhunters had to deal with Angor Rot when he was hunting down Jim, they had learned a few things about him. One: he liked to do things in his own weird way. Two: He really liked the concept of freedom. Three: Angor Rot may or may not have shown some signs of massive anger issues.
When Angor woke up, he'd found himself all bandaged and patched up in an unknown bed. Lights that were adjusted on the ceiling, shone a grayish, unpleasant light in the room, reflecting on the dark windows. He expected a lot more of the pain to return, but for some reason he barely felt it. Seeing a needle stuck in his lower arm, connected to some tube leading to a suspicious plastic bag, hanging on a metal rack, he decided to pull it out. It took him some effort, as his other arm was stuck in a strange, hard casing, restraining his movement with it. Being a lot more clear minded then he had in weeks, he decided to quickly get out, resulting in him graciously vomiting in the sink close to him, as his head decided to still merry go round when he decided to stand up. He later came to find out that it was part of the head injury he gained from being smashed into the kitchen counter. That also concluded a number of other symptoms like nausea, dizziness and lack of concentration. His mood already started at 'slightly annoyed'.
Not knowing where he was, his plan was to head out the room and see if he could get out of the building. Finding a set of his fresh clothes hanging over a chair next to the bed, he decided to not question how it got there and just grab them, more focused on getting out of here and leave Arcadia for good. He couldn't recall every exact event from the last few days, but he knew enough that he wanted to be as far away from the Prison house as possible. In the past he wouldn't run from a fight, but that was what got him into this mess in the first place.
Having it all planned out, he managed to get his sweatpants on with one arm but then the next challenge came. Trying to get a hoodie over his head, was a big mistake. Cursing the hoodie and the nuisance of a cast on his arm, he got stuck on not getting it on or getting out of it. He stopped throwing every swearword he knew out there, when he heard the door open and someone entering the room. He stopped dead in his tracks.
'You uh… need help with that?'
Angor cursed again. That voice belonged to Draal, probably trying to get him back to the Prison house as soon as he got that hoodie on. This day was already pissing him off.
'No. Get out.' he growled from under the hoodie.
He heard Draal sighed, steps approaching him fast. Angor protested, taking a few steps back, but suddenly the hoodie got pulled off of him, showing a tired Draal in front of him. Angor avoided his gaze, suddenly feeling a bit exposed. He didn't like that Draal could see all the injuries. He tried to hide it all this time, the man wasn't supposed to find out.
'Just hold out your arms.' Draal ordered, not showing any notice about the injuries at all, holding the bottom side of the hoodie in front of him.
Angor scowled at him, taking another steps back in hostility. 'No, now leave. I'm not going back to the Prison house.'
Draal raised his eyebrow at that, awkwardly pushing his lips into a thin line. 'Oh… yeah about that. You're staying with the trollhunter and me for a while.'
The assassin didn't reply for a moment. Was this a joke? 'You have no talent for humor, guard.'
'That's because this isn't a joke!' Draal huffed, lowering the hoodie a bit. 'After what happened yesterday, we have to keep an eye on you-'
Angor's shoulders tensed up after being reminded of yesterday. Slowly some events came back into his mind, but he wasn't ready to fully face it yet. He first had to get out of here. Angor felt the anger rise in him.
'You've done that enough!' he interrupted. 'I'm not going with anyone. If you won't leave, I will.'
Ignoring Draals protests, he passed the blue haired man and headed towards the door, roughly throwing it open with his right hand. Looking through the doorway, he saw a long hallway, rows of doors and chairs stretching out, reaching towards the end, where a big glowing green sign hanged above a door, saying 'EXIT'. Understanding that the sign was his way out, he marched through the doorway, but before he could actually turn towards the exit, he got pulled back by an invisible force. Stumbling backwards, he couldn't hide his surprise. He immediately tried again, only to receive the same treatment. Scowling, he turned to the other side of the hallway, heading a different way but the same result pulled him back.
Something was pulling him back, Angor thought, But towards whom? He slowly turned around, his gaze falling on Draal, who uncomfortably stood next to bed in the room, still holding the hoodie. His whole face told the assassin that the man knew something he didn't. When Angor suspiciously scanned him, his eyes fell on a ruby, shining red on a golden ring, steadily put on Draals right hand. A thought crossed Angors mind, slowly filling him with dread. He stomped towards the mirror above the sink, looking in the mirror. On his neck, he saw a thin, golden line, circling around his neck, faintly glowing the same red as the ruby did.
'No…' he breathed, not believing his eyes. He took his time when he turned around and faced Draal, but he make sure that Draal could read the message he had to give with just his expression. Draal was a dead man.
Draal turned to him, quickly holding his hands up. 'Angor, I can explain!'
The trollhunter walked through the hallway once again, this time to pick both Draal and Angor up from the hospital. Strickler was waiting reluctantly in the car outside, not approving any part of the fact that a highly, dangerous troll was going to stay under the same roof as him. Unfortunately he had to do it, because there weren't a lot of options left, seeing the circumstances.
Jim stopped for a moment when he hurt some commotion in the hallway. It sounded like a lot of objects were getting smashed and shattering sounds followed in the process. Only thinking about one room where this possibly could happen, Jim quickly ran towards his destination. Opening the door, he found what he already expected.
Draal just dodged a metal rack, that collided with a heavy, metal clinging sound against the wall behind him. The room was already a disaster, all kind of hospital equipment spread around on the floor.
'Angor, stop! If you just let me finish-' He started before he already had to dodge a chair getting slung towards him.
A shirtless, covered in bandages assassin stood across of the room, next to the bed, absolutely livid. 'You trapped me, AGAIN?!'
'It wasn't my idea, per sé…' Draal stammered in his defense, slowly circling around the room, preparing for whatever would fly towards him next.
'I can't believe you! Out of all people, you damn traitor!' Angor roared, already finding his next weapon, a lonely syringe, laying on the floor after he already threw the metal plateau where it had it's home, towards Draal. He held it in front of him, the sharp end pointing towards Draal.
'I'm going to insert this into your eye…' he dangerously growled, taking a step towards Draal.
'No! Just listen to me, I didn't betray you!' Draal frustratingly yelled back, grabbing the chair and putting it in front of him as a shield. 'By Dea, you are so unbelievably stubborn!'
Jim reminded himself that he also was in the room, taken back by the disaster playing out in front of him. The trollhunter had expected a big brawl to happen, but because of the assassins current state, he apparently decided to throw objects towards his opponent with his good arm instead. It looked more like Jim just walked into a messy divorce happening. He walked forward and stood in between the others. 'Alright, that's enough! We have to go, come on.'
'I'm not going anywhere.' Angor growled, holding the syringe steady, now pointing towards Jim. He turned too quickly though, feeling the sudden nausea come back with a vengeance. His head turning, he stumbled backwards, dropping the syringe to hold on to the bed. 'Damn it…'
Jim sighed. He really didn't feel like going through the whole rebellion phase in the Prison house again. Luckily, he had a better idea. He walked back towards the door, nudging Draal to follow. 'Come Draal, let's go.'
Draal took a step, but halted for a moment, seeming hesitant as he looked towards Angor, who still held on to the bed. He didn't want to do this, but he also knew that Angor needed some convincing before he would comply. Turning his gaze towards the door, he followed Jim outside.
Angor watched them leave for a moment, trying to stop the world from turning, not understanding why they suddenly left. The moment it sank in, it was too late. He suddenly got pulled off the bedside, falling on his back as an invisible force took him across the floor. He slid through the doorway, hitting the side of the wall in the hallway with force. This was not helping the nausea, his sense of balance making an 180 again. He was lucky that he couldn't feel the pain for some reason.
Draal stood a few feet away from him, pausing his journey towards the exit, looking at him with a bit of guilt. 'Look, if you simply follow us, you won't have to be dragged down the whole hospital.'
'Hnng…' was the only thing Angor could manage, rolling a bit to the side as he kept his eyes squeezed shut, trying to keep the insides of his stomach where it should be.
Draal sighed, as he decided to not follow Jim any further down the hall. He walked towards Angor, kneeling down next to him, pulling him into an upright sitting position. 'You ok?'
Angor just glared daggers at him, still trying to find his ground again. He really hated being this powerless.
Draal lowered his eyes for a moment, holding himself responsible for making everything worse then it already was. He sighed, holding the hoodie, he still was holding on too, out in front of him again.
'Come on. Let me just help you get this on and let's head home. I know you don't want this, but I will explain everything when we get there. Please just walk with us, I don't want you to get even more hurt.'
Angor sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He wanted to leave Arcadia, get somewhere far away from here, but he knew he had to comply. What other options where there left? Once again, he didn't have a damn choice. Reluctantly, he held his arms out in front of him as he opened his eyes.
Draal smiled, pulling the hoodie over his head. After that, he helped the assassin up, giving him time to adjust to the sudden movement, holding him steady for a moment. The assassin eventually pushed him off, stubbornly showing that he could stand himself again.
'Alright, well let's go.' Draal said, not taking it personally, nudging with his head as he walked towards the exit. With an annoyed grunt, Angor followed.
The car ride home had been unpleasant, but that was to be expected. The motion of the car didn't help the nausea, making Angor mostly focus on keeping himself from hurling, angrily sitting in the back seat next to Draal. Angor had decided after his outrage in the hospital room, to just ignore them all together.
'What happened to you?'
'You have your soul back?'
'Are you working with Morgana again?'
He didn't reply to their questions and didn't budge towards Stricklers insults after the changeling got frustrated by the silent treatment all the same. The assassin didn't care that Strickler said that he acted like an angry whelp in a grown ups body, pulling the cap of his dark green hoodie over his head and continued staring out of the window, just to spite the impure. He may not have a choice to stay or not, but they couldn't force him to act like he was happy about it.
It also didn't help his mood that he couldn't get further then 25 feet from Draal. His freedom now got even more restrained, having a guard around him 24/7 and apparently Merlin was preparing some kind of soul search to navigate Morgana. After the night he got out of the Prison house, he hadn't felt any sign of Morgana yet, but he was certain that she would return soon enough. Maybe it took her a lot of her energy to reach out to him and needed to regain her strength again, but it wouldn't stop her for long. Knowing that eventually the assassin had to deal with that again, he didn't want to be near Draal at all. Morgana knew Angor more then he would like to admit, using it in her advantage sooner then he even realized himself how he felt about something. Probably because if he didn't want to think about something, he'd just forced it out of his mind.
In the Prison house, Draal treated him like an equal, something the assassin wasn't used too and before Angor noticed it himself, he was starting to lower his guard around the man. Doing so, resulted in the one thing why he kept his guard up in the first place, as he almost killed Draal that one morning. He succeeded in pushing the man away, but now he couldn't push Draal further then the ring allowed too, putting Draal in a vulnerable position. At first, Angor was furious with him, feeling betrayed by the fact that the only one he tolerated suddenly held him captive, but after learning about Merlin's actions, he kept it at 'slightly mad' towards the guard. Angor put the remaining anger towards the wizard and being a prisoner again, but he agreed with the old man on one thing: Merlin should've killed him when he had the chance. It was the most effective choice, Angor did not understand why Draal and the trollhunter wanted him alive so bad. He already died once, he shouldn't be alive in the first place. What was the use for them to keep him alive, if he could put them all in danger. What was the use for himself, if he was put in yet another prison. It wasn't that he felt the urge to stop living, but it just didn't make any logical sense to him.
When they arrived at the house, the group thought it necessary to give Angor some ground rules, because why not make it more annoying right? As he sat on the couch, the three men dramatically stood in front of him, sternly trying to stare him down. If they were trying to intimidate him, it was certainly failing, as Anger just tiredly stared back at them, still keeping silent. He lost interest in their speech a while ago, the pain of yesterday slowly returning into his body. Sometimes the concussion made his vision slightly doubled, making him see six man stand in front of him instead of three, angrily continuing their list of rules.
'No knifes, no blades, no magic, no violence!' Strickler continued, holding his hand in front of Angor, counting down the finger to make his point.
'No make shift weapons either!' Jim added to the list.
'If you see any sign of Morgana, you come straight to one of us.' Draal stated, folding him arms and standing tall, playing his little guard act again.
'My mom occasionally has to check your injuries. You will comply to this, no objections!'
'If you harm Barbara in any way, it will be your death.' Strickler threatened.
'I'll kill you personally.' Jim followed with a dangerous growl.
The trollhunter didn't joke around when it came to his mother, Angor noted. He remembered how the hunter kept running around her, always yelling things about keeping her safe. The assassin didn't understand why he kept her around, only seeing her get used as collateral or being an obstacle. Caring about her was used multiple times against the trollhunter, but the boy still hold her close. Angor didn't understand the allure in that, finding it highly unpractical.
After the endless list of rules and threats, Draal took him to the basement, where there were two single beds on both sides. It was spacious enough, looking different then the last time Angor infiltrated through the tunnel that connected to the sewers. The heater still stood on it's place, but most of the clutter was gone. It got decorated with furniture and different trinkets Draal possessed. Mostly some different colored, glowing stones, pictures and a rack with some clothes hanging on it. Angor suspected there to be weapons, but those were probably removed because of him. The lighting stayed the same, warm and slightly lowered.
The ring didn't allow him to get far enough to sleep anywhere else, forcing them to stay in the same room. The trollhunters clearly had lost their minds, Angor concluded. He and Draal could impossibly be roommates like this, as the blue haired man would end up dead sooner then later, probably in his sleep.
'You have a death wish…' he muttered, staring at the bed. Draal turned to him in surprise.
'Look who decided to talk again!' he chuckled, resting his hands on his sides.
Angor glared back at him as he carefully sat on the bed on the left, not feeling the need to get dizzy again, feeling some of his stitches slightly pull as he moved. He had to be careful not to tear them. 'You do know I can just kill you in your sleep right?'
Draal's smile faltered after that, looking down for a bit. 'I know you could, but...' he confessed, taking a moment to think over his words, before looking back at Angor again.
'I trust that you won't. Truce, remember?'
The assassin scowled, confusion written on his face. Why on earth would Draal trust him after all that had happened? 'Even if I won't, Morgana will. Locking me away would be the smarter choice.'
'Isolating you gave her the advantage last time.' Draal said thoughtfully. 'Maybe this way, we can prevent it sooner.'
Angor still found it hard to understand the man. Why would he stay around him, if it only meant he would be in danger. The assassin kept glaring at him, trying to decipher how many rocks this man kept in his skull exactly.
Draal let go of his sides when he saw Angors expression, showing a sign of worry. It looked like he wanted to say something, but hesitated to do so. He let out a sigh and walked over towards the bed, sitting a few feet away from Angor. He bend over a bit, folding his hands while his arms rested on his knees.
'Angor, why didn't you tell me? Why did you push me away?'
The assassins shoulders tensed up, immediately looking the other way. He didn't want to think about what happened in the Prison house. The injuries reminded him enough.
'I know I'm not powerful enough against Morgana or Gunmar, but you didn't have to go through that alone, you know.' Angor heard him continue, a hint of sadness in his voice. 'It went on for weeks! I could've done something at least. Get you out of there or call Merlin…'
The assassin didn't react, still avoiding to look at Draal. He recalled the moment he pushed Draal away that morning in the Prison house, seeing how his words had hurt the man and the sting he felt after that. Seeing Draal crouched in front of him, looking at him with confused big, amber eyes. How fear immediately shot through him because of the fact that he felt something unknown in the first place, pushing Draal even further away after that. That it was better to deal with this alone, like he always had done? When he was soulless it never was a problem for him, why would it now have to be any different?
He heard Draal let out a heavy sigh beside him. 'No, that's not it. Now it sounds like I am blaming you.' the man grunted. 'I was supposed to keep watch. I should have seen this coming. You got hurt because of me.'
Angor turned around after hearing that, looking at him confused. He saw Draal leaning forward on his arms, his head hanging, eyes filled with regret.
'I failed you.'
Angor didn't know why, but something inside him made him feel bad for the guy. He didn't like to see Draal looking hurt and sitting all sulking like that. It didn't make it better it was because of him, as he hadn't told him what was going on. Sure, Draal annoyed him a lot, laughing and talking all the time, not understanding what the words 'Go away.' meant, but seeing him like this. Angor wanted it to stop.
'None of this is your fault.'
Draal turned his head, his guilty expression looking up towards the man sitting next to him. He saw Angor looked a bit uncomfortable, fidgeting the edge of his cast with his right hand, his eyes avoiding eye contact again, searching for the right words to say.
'I…' he paused for a moment, feeling the urge to stop and walk away from this. He could just call the man an idiot, walk as far away as the ring let him, but that wouldn't help Draal in anyway. He would just see the man sulk from 25 feet away instead. He took a deep breath, deciding to take the risk.
'I'm used to doing things alone.' he carefully continued, frowning in concentration, having a hard time actually telling someone his true motivations. Why on earth was he doing this? Most of his mental efforts went to survival and pushing down thoughts that intervened with that exact thing. He didn't want to think about why he did what he did, feeling things that would only slow him down, but looking at the hurt look in Draal's eyes made him feel like he had to at least explain something about himself, even if it was just a minor detail.
But what was he supposed to say? That he had been soulless longer then he could remember, causing him to barely feel anything, accept for the raging urge to fill the void and the fear of never succeeding in doing so? The only thing that had made him feel anything else then rage and fear was adrenaline when he hunted down his targets. He fought alone, had spend centuries imprisoned in solitude, it was all he knew. The only ones who he knew that didn't end up dead because of him were the Pale lady and Gunmar, if he didn't count the changeling of course, but that was in such a short time length it wasn't enough for Angor to care about. The three of them weren't really 'comfort material', if Angor ever had needed it in the first place, his soulless persona not fitting the name either.
When the Pale lady resurrected him, she had returned his soul with a piece of her own, but Angor had been soulless for such a long time, he had forgotten what it was like to actually have one. It felt chaotic and unpredictable, things he didn't view as functional survival tactics, so he decided to do what he had always done, continue the pattern of serving Morgana and filling the void. Unfortunately, somewhere along the lines, that void started to fill up with things the assassin didn't even know how to describe. Memories he didn't want to remember. Questions began to rise in him, made him question Gunmar's motives, even made him doubt about his masters intentions. Suddenly, he began to disagree with how the two treated him. Treated others. He had tried to ignore the thoughts for a long time, serving the Eldritch Queen as he always had done, but there came a moment he gave in. In that moment, he had betrayed Morgana, the only one who had given him any sense of direction for centuries on end.
Now, he possessed a foreign body, emotions he had no clue what to do with, a soul he barely recognized, locked away once again by his enemies, no magic, no weapons and worst of all; no direction. He didn't know what to do next. How was he supposed to know what to do without Morga-
Nope. Angor closed his eyes a few seconds, pushing the thoughts away. This was the exact reason why he didn't like talking about the subject. Once one thought started, others followed, making his soul stir up, a storm brewing dangerously and he wanted no part of it. With effort he tried to build his walls up again, pushing the thoughts away, but it seemed to take a while to do so.
Draal called his name, but didn't receive any acknowledgment, as the assassin continued looking the other way. The bigger man scooted a bit closer, nudging the assassins shoulder lightly with his own.
'Angor, can you look at me?'
Angor turned his head around with some reluctance. Different thoughts and emotions swirled around his head, making him feel heavy. He couldn't find the strength to hide his expression, so he just tried to look the other way, but he knew he couldn't continue that forever.
It took the assassin some effort to turn towards him, but when they were face to face, he suddenly found it hard to look away instead. Draal gave him a warm smile, his amber eyes searching for Angor's. His arm felt warm against him, giving him no indication that the man meant harm by touching him. As Angor looked at him, time seemed to suddenly slow down, forgetting about the storm he felt swirling inside for a moment. He didn't know what Draal was searching for when he looked at the assassin, but it didn't feel ominous. It felt rather... secure?
'It's okay to ask for my help. You're safe with me.'
Angor looked at him, his eyes slightly widened. Why was did man being so nice to him? He recalled Morgana trying to lure him in with similar words, but for some reason he felt himself wanting those of Draal to be true. Somewhere in those amber eyes, he saw honesty. The man offered a service Angor could choose to go to himself. The assassin wasn't used to have an actual choice in the matter. He did what was told and even if he resisted, the owner's will got forced on him anyway. Sure, he was free to get the job done in whatever way he pleased, but in the end, it was always the will of the holder of the inferna copula.
In the lake house, he thought he didn't have much choice either, but here Draal was, sitting next to him, offering his help without anything in return. Keeping the assassin around even if it meant putting himself in danger. Suddenly giving him an option, instead of an order. Angor had no idea what to do with it. Who on earth was this man?
'I… don't know how.' He breathed, still not being able to look away.
Draals smile fell a bit, his eyes showing a hint of fascination as he looked towards the assassin.
'Then I'll help you with that.' he absently said, seeming to be distracted by something in Angor's eyes.
The basement suddenly opened, footsteps coming down the stairs. 'Draal, I'm home! How's the patient coming along?'
Both men snapped out of it, startled by the sudden intrusion. Draal shot up from the bed, quickly pacing towards the stairs with wide eyes.. 'The Barbara! Let me help you with that!'
Barbara ascended down the stairs, holding a box with different medical equipment and bandages. 'No, I've got it, thanks.' she thanked him, giving him a confused look as he had an uncomfortable broad smile on his face. As she reached the end of the steps, she looked into the basement and found the one she was looking for sitting on the bed, golden eyes blankly staring back at her.
'There you are!' She said, not showing any signs of fear towards the man, walking over to him and putting the box next to him on the bed. 'How are you holding up?'
Angor just blinked once while he looked back at her, still processing what just happened. It must've been the head injury, because it felt like he got in some weird trance a moment ago. His eyes fell on Draal for a moment, who stood a few feet away from them. Was it him or did he also look a bit distracted?
A bright, sharp light suddenly pierced his left eye, making him squint, pulling away his head. Barbara shined a tiny flash light in his eyes for some reason, he frustratingly wondered what that thing had to do with her medical expertise.
'Hold still, will you.' she ordered, shining at him again. If she wanted him blind, just stab his eye, much quicker and effective. Reluctantly he let her continue, being reminded about the damned ground rules he had to follow if he didn't want to end up dead.
Barbara continued the check up, being caught up in her work. She gave him something called 'Anti-biotics', he didn't know what it meant. She asked a couple of questions from time to time, which Angor absently answered, just trying to get this over with. He felt the cracks in his wall restore itself again, slowly putting the storm away in it's safe location. Deep under the ground where he couldn't hear it. Occasionally he looked over towards Draal, who suddenly seemed to be very interested in some of his luminous stones on the shelf.
'It's good to see that you're concussion seems to get better in such a short time!' Barbara happily remarked, checking the stitches on his temple. 'Some people can suffer from it months on end, but with you, things are looking up. It probably will be gone in a couple of days. The minor injuries will be gone in around two weeks too!'
Barbara went through the box on the bed, rummaging through different items. 'The arm is going to take a lot longer to heal, I'm afraid. Bones like to take their time to fully recover.' she pulled out a little white box with text written all over it. She opened it, showing little white pills wrapped in aluminum. 'For at least this week, you can take one of these, keeps the pain under control. Not more then one per day, understand? I'll notice when you overuse it.'
She handed over the white box, grabbing some left over items on the bed and put it back in the box. Pulling up her sleeve, she checked the time on her watch, before turning back towards Angor.
'It's important you take it easy. The human body needs to put a lot of energy in healing itself, so take your rest seriously.' she picked up the box, turning around to head to the stairs, but stopped for a moment. She momentarily stayed silent, contemplating something before turning around to face the assassin again.
'I know you are considered dangerous. I mean, you wrecked my house, trying to kill my son...' she uncomfortably started, thinking back on how she found out her son was a trollhunter and met one of the most terrifying ones in one night.
'Oh, I remember! You totally fell for the flame thrower trap in the bathroom!' Draal suddenly recalled, turning around. Barbara gave him a look, showing that he was not helping the situation. Draals smile faltered as he coughed uncomfortably and turned his attention back to his rock collection.
'but…' she continued, turning back to Angor. 'seen the circumstances, I am willing to give you another chance. You live under my roof now and I like this place to stay a home, not a prison. So, I will give you the benefit of the doubt, in return that you contribute on keeping this a safe environment. Well, as far as you go. Morgana is a different story, ofcourse.'
As per usual, Angor stared blankly at her while he still sat on the bed. What was it with people who willfully put themselves in unnecessary danger?
'We normally eat dinner around seven, so if you ever want to join us at the table, you are free to do so.' she said, giving him one of her famous warm smiles.
Angor decided to just nod, not really knowing what to do with yet another offer of free choice he was given today. He didn't get the allure of eating together, let alone himself joining in, but he did like the idea that he was free to decline the offer.
Her smile remained as she gave a nod back, before she turned around and headed up the stairs again.
Draal turned around, watching her leave and close the door behind her. When they were alone again, he looked over to Angor, who looked down to read the text on the white box. The bigger man didn't really know what to say, worrying if Angor noticed the way Draal looked at him before Barbara came into the basement. It wasn't his intention to suddenly act so odd, he didn't know what came over him, but the last thing he wanted was to chase Angor away.
'If I have to sit at a table with the changeling for longer then ten seconds, I'd better shove this whole box in my mouth.' the assassin said.
Draal felt his shoulders relax a bit. Angor didn't seem to show any odd behavior towards him, so that's a relieve. Then the tension suddenly came rushing back when it dawned to him what the assassin just said.
'No! The Barbara just said that one is enough. Don't you know what could happen if-'
'It's called sarcasm, you idiot.'
It had been a few days since he was forced to stay at the Lake house and as expected, it could be described as tense. Absolutely no one was happy about the assassin moving in, including Angor Rot himself obviously. The last time he had been in the house was when he tried to assassinate the trollhunter, wrecking the house in such an extend that they apparently had to renovate the living room. Angor didn't care about things like decorating a living space, he never stayed long enough at one spot to make it so. That excluded his prison in the jungle, but that wasn't exactly a home to begin with and even if he did consider it to be, it wasn't like he had the liberty to move around and place a sofa in the corner because it matched so well with the pile of rocks he was trapped under.
Angor had to admit that the Lake house was an upgrade from the Prison house when it came to luxury. There was no wrecked furniture for starters, as there was no Gunmar that ran around in a psychopathic frenzy, demolishing everything that could be broken in some way. There were actual places to sit, shelves with objects like books or pictures hanging on the walls. Not having the former Gumm gumm leader in the house was a great improvement, especially after what had happened the last night Angor had been in the prison house. The assassin didn't spent much time thinking about it, as it included the chaotic storm that kept knocking on his door whenever he thought about confronting rubbish like Gunmar. The bastard wasn't worth his time and energy, so away the thoughts went, locked safely in the 'useless' box.
Another great thing was food, as the people in the Lake house apparently made a habit of preparing food and having hot meals. The assassin had avoided joining the dinner table, obviously not wanting to just carelessly eat together with his enemies, but he didn't mind the food itself. It was way better then the cold, simple things he had eaten in the Prison house.
The downside of living in the Lake house, aside from sharing it with the ones that locked him up in the first place, especially that bastard of a changeling, was that Angor wasn't used to having so many people around. The assassin had known solitude for a long time, the only crowds he had experienced being the battles he had faced. Angor had considered trollmarket suffocating when Gunmar had conquered it, avoiding being around his army as much as he could, not liking all the noise and commotion, but unfortunately now he was stuck to Draal, who was way more of a social creature then he was. The assassin knew that Draal was a talker, as he wouldn't stop yapping when he had guard duty in the prison house, but it seemed that Angor wasn't the only one he liked talking to. The man would talk an unbearable long time with any of the residents of the Lake house, constantly making the assassin impatiently wait as far away from the conversation as the ring would let him. Who would talk longer with someone then ten minutes?! No information was big enough to be shared longer then that time. It was terribly unpractical. Angor couldn't comprehend the waste of time that was spend into it, trying to ignore whoever it was Draal was talking to.
Angor basically ignored everyone accept Draal in the Lake house. He didn't trust them and because of the fact that he couldn't remove himself from the location, he decided to keep his mouth shut, not giving his enemies any information about himself. He would just stay as far away as he possibly could, observing and analyzing the people, occasionally receiving a nervous glance in return. Angor wasn't that surprised that the residents where cautious of the assassin, he actually preferred it. It kept them away from him.
The changeling in particular was nervous whenever they had to be in the same room together and the assassin wasn't having it either. Angor was obviously not scared of Strickler, the little changeling was nothing compared what the assassin was used to, but he had to admit that the man pissed him off. The nerve of the impure to use the inferna copula to make Angor do his bidding was reason enough, but the fact that Strickler was still walking around with his head on his neck made Angor bitter. He didn't understand why the trollhunter and his allies had accepted the impure into their group, happily braiding each others hair like he wasn't a traitorous coward. It was foolish, Strickler would betray them instantly when he found something else that would benefit him, Angor was sure of it. Unfortunately the assassin couldn't act on his grudge, Draal keeping his 'guardly eye' on him whenever the impure came in sight. The assassin had angrily realized that Strickler must have asked Draal to keep Angor away from him, making the assassin unable to lay a finger on the man. Seeing the circumstances, Angor wasn't planning on murdering the man… yet, but was breaking the man's smug nose too much to ask? Angor deserved at least that, but apparently even that was too much to ask.
Draal wasn't the only one keeping an eye on the assassin. The trollhunter wasn't around a lot, dealing with whatever his duties were at the time, mostly being gone at night to avoid the sunshine, but when he was, the assassin could feel his eyes on him. Angor assumed that the boy tried to protect his mother, noticing that the trollhunter kept fuzzing over her, but still it annoyed him. If the boy was foolish enough to have 'loved ones', then don't make it worse by placing his enemy under his roof. It where reason's like this that made Angor wonder how the boy was able to kill him.
The trollhunters mother was one of the less annoying residents of the house. She didn't seem to show any caution or hostility towards him, keeping her word on not wanting her house to be a prison, but she still respected his distance, not starting unnecessary conversations. The woman would occasionally check on his wounds, which were healing properly according to her, but even then she wouldn't keep her speech that long. She'd give him an update and some advice, asking questions on his state, but that was about it. Draal could use her social skills as an example. Straight to the point.
The healing process of his injuries had been slow, but steady. The first two days after Draal had dragged him to the Lake house, Angor had to move quite slowly or the concussion would return with a vengeance. Occasionally he'd get heavy head aches, blurring his vision and making him unable to react to his surroundings, which was a nuisance, but luckily it faded over time, along with the nausea. The broken arm was a different story, as it was going to take a while to heal up according to the fleshbag healer. The cast refrained him from moving his left arm, making it difficult to move around. Angor had yet to go into combat, but if he had to, it was going to be a challenge. He remembered calling Draal a 'broken husk of a pretend warrior', but now he kind of had to eat his own words, walking around with a cast around his broken arm and stitches all over his body. How the tables had turned, he had bitterly realized, trying to get dressed, eat, shower and sneakily search for weapons with one arm. The trollhunters may have given him ground rules, but Angor had never promised he was going to follow them all. The assassin needed weapons. Danger had a habit of finding him, he wasn't going to just 'trust' Draal or the trollhunter to stay friendly. Angor had his experience with being held captive. When he didn't do what the captor wanted, they'd abuse their power to make him. It was standard power struggle protocol, nothing new.
The prison house had been a nuisance, but at least he could go wherever he pleased in the house when Gunmar was chained up. Now, he was chained to Draal and being monitored by the trollhunter. Angor had yet to think of an escape plan, his option being even lower then in the Prison house as long as the ring stayed around Draal's finger. He basically had to go where ever Draal went, an incredible annoyance to say the least. Sure, the assassin had gotten used to having Draal around for periods of time, but now they were together non stop. It only had been a few days but it already started to get on Angor's nerves. Draal kept talking to him, dragging the man around the house so he could continue his chores like cooking, cleaning up a bit, training or whatever the man came up with. It had been decided that Draal and Angor had to stay in the house for a little while, not wanting the risk of putting more people at risk then the residents of the Lake house. The assassin had been used to long term confinement, but Draal was getting restless, trying to occupy his time with roaming around the house, trying to help out wherever he could. Angor had to tag along, obviously, using the opportunity to discreetly search for potential weapons or an escape.
The first escape plan was obviously to get the ring off Draal's hand, but if it were that easy, Angor had already left the first day he had arrived. The assassin had waited for Draal to fall asleep at the first night, sneakily approaching the man, trying to steal the ring, but as he had expected, the ring didn't budge. Merlin had put an Angor proof lock on it, making the assassin unable to take the ring off. Angor wasn't surprised that the wizard had done his precautions, but he had to try, just in case. The assassin would've set the house on fire in anger if he had spend days on end trying to escape this house, only to find out he could've grabbed the ring and bold. Now he could scratch that option of the list at least.
Angor had contemplated to simply kill Draal. It would've been highly effective if he was quick enough. He could've made sure that Draal wouldn't make a sound, knocking him out or snap his neck, take Draal's sword and chop his hand off, but Angor had to admit, with some frustration, that he didn't want to hurt Draal. Smack him straight in the face or call him names, sure, but something inside him told him not to end the mans life. Angor had tried to force himself to just do it, but whenever he waited for Draal to fall asleep at night, stealthily walked over towards his bed and convinced himself it was the smartest option, he could only stare at the man, frozen on the spot. He couldn't get himself to do it, as he would furiously glare down at a lightly snoring Draal, who wasn't aware of the fact that a murderer was hovering over him, having a damned dilemma about killing him or not. Stupid man with his stupid blue hair and stupid nose ring.
Angor didn't know why he couldn't get himself to do it, normally it wasn't a problem for him. He'd kill without a second thought if it was proven the best option, but apparently this was different. The idea of murdering Draal gave him a bad feeling, which he absolutely loathed. Doubts like this would only slow him down, decreasing his chance of survival, but after a few attempts, Angor realized his body just didn't want listen to reason, so he reluctantly had put the murder plan on hold. He had to find another way for the time being and use this as a plan B, hoping that in time he stopped acting like a fool and get over it. For now, he scanned the house for other options and weapons.
The house was filled with useless junk and Angor had barely any idea what the function was of it all. The bathroom was filled with peculiar potions and creams that smelled appealing but tasted awful. Angor probably should've known it wasn't edible, as he had noticed humans kept all of their food in the kitchen, but he could've sworn one weird looking pink salve smelled like strawberries, a thing he had often consumed after he had turned human, but unfortunately, it was anything but. He had come to learn what soap and toothpaste was in the prison house, but apparently those substances came in an enormous amount of different shapes and scents, along with other functions to polish the body. It went a bit overboard in Angor's opinion, soap had all the function he needed, why waste time on other things? Although, as he had to pick one to use anyway, he chose one that smelled weirdly spicy and earth like. He had no clue what it was, but he thought the scent was extremely appealing. He didn't care if the other residents objected, it was his now. If they didn't want him to steal stuff, they shouldn't have locked him up in their house in the first place.
Unfortunately, the bathroom was the only place he could search through in peace, being able to lock the door, both men taking turns in entering the room. It already frustrated the assassin to no end that they had to work around each other, he wasn't that much of a team player, but it also meant he couldn't go through closets, look under beds or prepare weapons without Draal noticing. The man already kept an eye on Angor and if Draal would find him rummaging through the trollhunters desk or casually sharpen a piece of wood into a weapon, it would surely awake some suspicion. Angor had yet to find a moment to do so, impatiently acting like he had any patience left until the opportunity came around the corner. Angor needed to be able to defend himself and he doubted that throwing some strawberry cream at his opponent was going to be effective. Although, he could throw it at the impure. It wouldn't kill the man, but it would surely piss him off, which would slightly increase Angor's mood.
Through the assassin's secret search through the house, he did recognize the box in the living room, noticing that it had the same function as the tablet with movies on it, understanding that it was used for entertainment. He noticed that humans had the tendency to gawk at the screen for hours on end, which felt a bit concerning but at the same time, the visuals were very captivating. Angor had to catch himself numerous times getting sucked into the screen himself, something he wanted to avoid. He had to find an escape, not stare at some useless movie called 'Gun robot 3'.
One upside to this whole disaster was that Angor was able to get outside of the house. Even when it was only the garden and the fact he could only get there if Draal was close enough for Angor to reach it, it still made the assassin feel some relieve. He had spent months inside, only being able to look outside through the window, but now he could actually feel the sun on his face and grass under his feet. The sun had been a strange experience, as it used to be a fatality, but now it was warm and soothing, his body feeling some bit better when he stood in the light. Looking straight at it wasn't though, as he learned that lesson when his eyes burned when he couldn't keep looking away from the sight, reluctantly tearing his gaze away. It was a bit foolish, but feeling the summer breeze and breathing the fresh air was something he had missed greatly. It calmed him down a bit and momentarily made him forget the fact he was still imprisoned. Angor knew that he should spent every second in the Lake house to search for an exit, but when the opportunity came for him to go to the garden, mostly when Draal was in the kitchen, he took it with some hidden excitement. Listening to the rustle of leaves or birds singing their songs was something he didn't mind. It was calming and Angor had to admit that staying awake through the night was getting him exhausted, making the sun a warm welcome compared through the tense nightly hours, waiting in the darkness of the basement.
He still didn't get much sleep, but this time mostly because of his own choice. In the nights, after he gave up wrecking his brain on murdering Draal or not, Angor would keep watch at the stairs, where he had the best view of the basement door and the now boarded up tunnel towards the sewers. The possibility of someone bursting through the door was low, but it kept him busy through the night. Naturally, Angor Rot didn't trust the residents of the house or anyone outside of it, but at the moment he trusted himself the least. Angor had woken up in different locations in the prison house one to many times to trust that he was going to loyally stay in bed after he would fall asleep. He knew that he needed some sleep from time to time, knowing what would happen if he restricted himself from it at all, but the moments he could stay awake, he did. The assassin waited until the early morning sun rays would shine through the tiny window of the basement before he would tiredly head to bed, knowing that Draal would wake up soon after. Luckily, Draal slept through the night like a snoring log, making it easier for the assassin to avoid questions. The bigger man probably would disagree with his choice to action, not understanding how dangerous it was for him if Angor would simply go to sleep. It was unknown when Morgana would return, but he knew she would. The risk was to great. For the time being, he tried to decrease the opportunities for her to posses him, even if it was exhausting. This whole situation was draining anyway.
'Holy champigion! So it IS true!'
Angor opened his eyes, looking up from his spot against the garden fence he was leaning on, his guard immediately activated as he saw the trollhunter's chubby friend and Aaargh approaching the garden. The assassin had forgotten about the fact that the boy lived across street, having the ability to easily enter the house. More enemies to worry about. Great...
The boy stared at the assassin with big, astonished eyes, mixed with a little wariness. They hadn't seen each other since the explosion of the bridge and Toby had trouble believing that the assassin now stayed at his best friends house. Barbara had invited them to stay over for dinner, as Draal had been trying to learn how to cook and Toby wasn't going to decline that sensation. He was way to curious about how human food cooked by a troll was going to taste like! Luckily, Jim was going to assist the blue haired man, making it safe for them to be the test subjects. It wasn't that Toby believed Draal couldn't learn the skill, but the boy had seen a lot of trolls try to eat certain things that would instantly kill a human and Toby couldn't help but fear that Draal was going to mistake salt with rat poison. They may be different colors, but the duke doubted that trolls understood what 'edible' colors meant.
Draal had taken it upon himself to learn the cooking skills Jim had mastered, making sure that if Jim eventually forgot what human food tasted like, Draal could take over. Jim had gotten used to his troll life, but from time to time it would hit him how much he missed his human life. Learning Draal to cook was his way keep a piece of his old self alive. It was also a good skill to have, so why not learn from the best. Toby thought it was a great idea and a benefit for them all. He didn't want to talk smack about misses L, but her cooking could be compared with eating a diablo maximus and then getting heavy diarrhea, but then without eating the burrito. Just the part that came after it and it just wasn't worth it. Strickler was able to cook, but it wasn't really that special. His food tasted like his history lessons. Boring. So that left Draal, a rookie when it came to human food, but he was the determined type, so Toby put his hopes on him. He needed his omelet from time to time, it were important matters.
A few days ago Jim had visited him with a grimmer look on his face then Toby had seen in a while, explaining to him that Gunmar and Angor had gotten into a fight again, but it had gotten way out of hand this time. Gunmar had broken out of his chains and the assassin ended up in the hospital. As the both of them just couldn't get along, something everybody and it's grandmother already expected, Merlin had decided to imprison the crazy magic troll assassin in a different way, getting him out of the house. Now, he stayed with Draal for a while, who lived in the Lake house, so now Toby apparently had a new neighbor.
Understandingly, Toby was freaked out about it, not trusting the assassin on bit. He had been worried for his friends the past few days, having to sleep in the same house as a psychopathic murderer. He didn't understand why Merlin would make a decision like this. Couldn't he just chain both Angor and Gunmar up, so they couldn't reach each other or force them to play UNO so they could destroy each other in a non violent way? There were a lot of smarter ways to keep Angor Rot locked up and it didn't involve Toby and Aaargh having to bump into him in the backyard of Jim. He knew that Jim wouldn't lie to him, but things just didn't add up. It felt like his best friend wasn't telling the whole part of the story.
When Jim told him that Angor looked like he'd gone through a meat grinder, he was telling the truth though. The man's golden irises eyed him dangerously, making Toby instantly feel the dread rising, but the bags under his eyes, all the fading bruises and healing stitches on his arms and face made him look somewhat less threatening. Still scary, but the cast around his arm made it clear that Angor wasn't up for a fight at the moment, making Toby slightly more at easy. Not that is was because his wingman was standing beside him, being able to beat Angor right back into the hospital if needed. Nope, Toby was perfectly capable of defending himself with his warhammer. No questions asked.
'Soooo…' Toby awkwardly began, uncomfortably shifting back and forth, trying to break the silence as the three off them stared at each other in the back yard, the sun slowly setting as the smell of Draal's cooking came through the backdoor from the kitchen. 'You look… alive!'
The assassin kept staring at him, not responding towards his attempt on a conversation. Jim had told Toby that Angor had been giving most of the residents the silent treatment, but Toby wanted to try at least, you never know. Not that the boy wanted to casually chat with the man who murdered his wingman, but Toby had to admit that he was way to curious about what had happened in the Prison house. He never visited the place, only occasionally passing by when he cycled to school, always wondering what was happening inside. What could he say, he liked the drama.
Standing in the garden also felt a bit dramatic. Toby looked up toward Aaargh, seeing the giant man glare right back at the assassin, his shoulders tense as his big eyes showed he wasn't pleased with the situation either. Toby understood that Aaargh had his grudges towards the prisoner, his face telling it's story, but for some reason even the giant brute hadn't let go any information about what happened in the prison house. The big brute guarded the prison house frequently and Toby had expected him to have some gossip, but he hadn't let go of anything. Aaargh would just sadly smile at the boy and change the conversation. Another reason that Toby's suspicion grew along the days. He knew his friends, he was pretty good in figuring out what they were thinking. They kept something from him, he desperately wanted to know what it was and the one who had actually been there the whole time was standing right in front of him.
'Why did Gunmar beat you up?' Toby blurted out, immediately slapping both his hands on his mouth, staring at the assassin with wide eyes. Darn himself and his intense need to fill awkward silences.
The assassin immediately showed displease, his glaring turning into a straight scowl as he growled at the boy. Toby clearly landed right on the sore spot, taking a step back with a little squeak. That was probably the neighbors cat, totally not him.
'Don't be frightened, Toby. He won't bite!'
Draal's head popped up from the kitchen door he just opened, walking down the garden stair steps, drying his hands on a towel. He welcomed his friends with a grin, not showing any concern about Angor's reaction. Toby's eyes shifted from Draal back towards the dangerous man in front of him. The assassin gave the bigger man an angry glare, declaring that, yes he definitely would bite. Toby had trouble believing Draal's reassurance, not intending on getting any closer. Aaargh also stayed by his side, not exactly terrified of the man, but cautious all together.
'Happy to see you've made it!' Draal continued, addressing the two of them. 'Get inside, dinner's almost ready.'
Aaargh gave a cautious grunt towards the assassin, before heading towards the kitchen door. Toby quickly followed him, not really feeling the need to stay away from his incredibly strong bodyguard. It gave Toby some relieve that he didn't have to talk to the assassin anymore, that was one of the most awkward conversations he has had in the last months and he asked out almost every girl for the spring fling!
Now he could enjoy a nice freshly made dinner made by freshly turned human. It wasn't like the assassin was going to join in on fun activities anyway, right?
Angor looked at the fork he was holding in his hand, leaning with his good arm on the end of the dinner table he was seated at, wondering why he was supposed to use a spiky piece of metal to eat food. Why wouldn't humans just eat with their hands?
Draal had triumphantly announced that he was going to prepare the food tonight, the assassin not understanding why the man saw it as a victory, but for some reason he held pride in his words as he told Angor. The bigger man had become restless from wandering around the house all the time and needed a project, so he decided to take up learning how to cook, but for him to join the dinner table, Angor also had to. The assassin had already seen this moment coming. He'd known that Draal was one of those social types for a while now. That man liked to be surrounded by people and it had only taken a few day for Draal to crack. Angor knew he could object, but he would only avoid the inevitable, eventually having to join in if Draal wanted to. The assassin could've heavily objected, why would he accept to casually sit on a table surrounded by his enemies, but starting to avoid and ignore the other residents was starting to get a full time job. He didn't want to admit it that quickly, but the exhaustion was slowly getting to him again and keeping his guard up was draining his energy. With how things were going he could put up a fight and eventually get dragged to the table or save energy and simply walk with him. If he wasn't so tired, he would've hit his head against the wall for so compliant, but the exhaustion seemed to win against his pride. So there he was, sitting on the far end of the table, angrily glaring at his fork, ignoring the other members on the table.
The people at the dinner table where silent, clearly needing some time to get used to the fact that Angor was longer then two minutes in the same room with them. Jim's little friend kept staring at the assassin with a gaping mouth, showing the metal on his teeth. Aaargh sat next to the boy. The humongous hairy man did not gape at Angor, but still watched him with those big, emotional eyes, telling him that he also was uncomfortable with the situation. Blinky had arrived a bit later, apologizing for being late because he had some trouble with driving one of those metal carriages called cars.
'Parallel parking. Such difficult challenge it is, Barbara Took me a total of 20 minutes!'
The small leader of new trollmarket and Barbara had tried to get a conversation going in the heavy silence, nervously looked around, trying to find a way to get the tension out of the room, but it was a tough task to come up with something. Angor did fight the hunters several times, murdering two in the process. Those two may be lucky they've returned to the land of the living, but it didn't make good conversation at a dinner party. Angor just let them stare, it wasn't like he disagreed with them. He didn't want to join this dinner either.
The only sound that could be heard were Jim and Draal, talking and laughing in the kitchen, preparing the food that would be served in a moment.
'Sooo…' Barbara began, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. 'Blinky! How are things at new trollmarket?'
'Oh, the usual!' Blink reacted a bit to quickly, immediately jumping to the opportunity to get the tension out of the air as he put on a smile way to big for his face. 'The human course seems to have a great influence on the trolls, as Strickler is teaching them well.'
'That's great to hear! He works so hard to educate them, such a bummer he couldn't make it to dinner tonight!' she reacted with an extra hint of enthusiasm, lifting a carafe of water she had picked up from the table. 'Can I give you some water?
Blinky grabbed his glass and shot his arm forward over the table towards Barbara. 'Yes, how very kind of you! Thank you dearly!'
'Misses L?' Toby awkwardly asked while Barbara filled the glass Blinky was holding. 'Why is Angor Rot at the dinner table?'
Barbara almost dropped the carafe, not expecting Toby to throw the ball so quickly, spilling some water on the table. It was common news that the boy didn't react well under pressure, but to address it so quickly?
Angor slowly place the fork down and put his elbow on the table, tiredly leaning his head on his hand, staring at Toby. Yes, mother of Jim, why was he at the dinner table?
'Well Toby…' she stammered, putting the carafe down as she adjusted her glasses. 'It's like Jim probably told you! He had to stay in our house for a while.'
'Well, yeah, but why is he at the table?' Toby asked, elaborated his former question. 'Isn't he supposed to like, I don't know, devour raw meat in the corner of the basement or something? I thought you guys said he was a dangerous prisoner!'
Angor had to agree with that one. Throw him back into the basement so he didn't have to be here. Barbara carefully tried to be aware of the words she was using. 'Draal wanted to cook dinner for us and he can't do that without Angor also joining in, so…'
'So he just casually sits with us?' Toby pushed on, getting a bit frustrated, waving a hand to gesture towards Angor, who was still staring at him with intense boredom. 'I've seen him fight! That cast isn't going to stop him! How did he break an arm anyway?!'
The dining room was silent for a moment, Barbara uncomfortably biting on her lip. Jim indeed had informed Toby and Claire that the assassin had to stay at their house because of the prison brawl, but they did not receive the entire story. Barbara thought that it would be better to keep out the details of what happened at the Prison house, because Toby and Claire both still were minors. It wasn't a secret that Morgana and Gunmar were beyond evil, but the kids didn't have to know how far that went. None of them even knew the whole story of what happened, as Angor never told them, still giving them the silent treatment. Barbara wanted to also leave Jim out of it, but unfortunately his position made it unavoidable.
Toby hadn't been inside the Prison house. He didn't know Angor the way Draal did, or see the aftermath of the possession like Barbara and Jim. Not knowing the whole truth, Toby just had the idea of how the man who threatened to break his neck a few months ago, got transferred from one prison to another with increased supervision because of a prison fight.
'No worry, wingman.' Aaargh said, giving Toby a few pets on his head with his giant hand. The big man didn't like the situation either, but he knew the conversation had to be redirected. 'He won't do bad when Aaargh here. Or Jim.'
'He'd better!' Toby grumbled, folding his arms while he glared at the assassin. Angor just blanky stared back, not really caring about the boys angry outburst. His young mind still thought that a couple of words were going to change anything. Good luck with that.
Draal walked into the diner room, holding a steaming hot oven dish between the oven mitts he was wearing, followed by Jim. The previous subject suddenly forgotten, everyone hungrily looking at the delicious food. With a big grin full of pride, he put the dish on the table before explaining his presentation. 'This is called losagni! We went a bit overboard with the cheese, but it will probably work out alright!'
'It's called lasagne.' Jim corrected him with a laugh, placing a big serving spoon next to the dish, before seating next to his mother. 'It's still very hot, so be careful not to burn yourself!'
'Lasagneee…' Draal repeated, still grinning while he started serving the plates, accept for Jim's, who already had filled his plate with left over spoons and some old rusty screws his mom didn't use anymore. After finishing up, Draal walked over to take the seat next to Angor.
The group quickly attacked their meal, showering Draal and Jim with compliments about how tasty it was. Jim gave the credit to Draal, as he only supervised this time.
'I didn't have to intervene once! He did it all himself.' Jim complimented, taking a bite out of a spoon.
'I've learned from the best!' Draal said, his mouth full with food, puffing his chest with pride. Different conversations started at the table, the good food changing the mood, the hostilities against Angor Rot forgotten for a moment.
After swallowing, Draal looked over to Angor to see if he liked the food. He saw the assassin hadn't started yet, staring at the food, fork still in hand. The assassin had tried to observe how the others used their cutlery to eat the food, but there was a bit of a problem. They all had knives and Angor wasn't allowed to have one and now he was trying to figure out how he was going to eat it. Noticing that Draal was staring at him, he scowled back at him for a moment before just stabbing the food, trying to pull a piece off. It wasn't that successful, as sauce just slipped out from the layers of lasagna. He put down his fork and tried to grab it with his hand, but immediately pulled back as he almost burned his fingers in the process.
'Looks like it's working.'
Angor tried to add some death in his glare, as he looked back at Draal, who seemed to find his struggle very amusing. 'Must be nice, having a knife.' he lowly sneered.
Draal laughed a bit, looking down at his own knife, picking it up. 'Yeah, we didn't think that one quite through, I have to admit, but you know…'
He lightly waved the knife a bit, playfully presenting it to the assassin. 'If only someone could help you out with that.'
Angor scowled at him, not amused by the little stunt he was pulling. The assassin knew that Draal wasn't going to give him the knife, as the man was too loyal to the ground rules, but he also knew the bigger man wasn't someone to just flaunt around something to make someone jealous. Angor didn't like to admit it, but he didn't see Draal as an enemy. He saw the man as somewhat tolerable, minus the social part. That observation could only mean the thing Angor wasn't looking forward too: Draal was trying to get him to ask for his help. The assassin contemplated if he'd avoid eating the whole thing at all, not being prepared to get thrown into this. If the bigger man was thinking he was going to even show any sign of weakness around the dinner table, he'd be mistaken.
'Not happening.' he stated, wiping his fingers on a paper napkin that was placed next to his plate, painting it red with the sauce. Damn it, he wanted to use his left arm again.
'Come on! You don't even have to say please.' Draal pushed, not ready to give up yet.
'In your dreams.'
Draal held the knife loosely in his hand, still lightly playing with it while he kept his gaze on Angor. With his lips in a thin line, he tried to think of his next move. Laying the knife down, he grabbed his fork and scooped up some of the sauce before holding it in the air, smirkingly presenting it in front of Angor.
'Try the sauce.'
Angor blinked in surprise for a moment, looking from Draal to the fork and back. Was the man serious?
'No.'
'Just taste it!' Draal laughed, enjoying this a lot more then Angor did. 'I bet you want to eat the whole thing after this.'
'Get lost, Draal.' Angors scowl deepened, getting frustrated that Draal once again did not listen to him. First he forced the assassin to sit with all this enemies and now he tried this little stunt. 'Go annoy someone else.'
Draal sighed for a moment, his smile slowly fading from his face. He knew that Angor had a problem trusting people, let alone ask for help, but it was at times like these that he saw how far it actually went. Draal didn't mean to ignore the assassins boundaries, dragging him to the dinner table with a whole bunch of people he didn't trust, but staying down in the basement wasn't going to help. Learning to ask for help meant putting at least some degree of trust into others and trust didn't come when you don't try to at least get to know them. Draal knew that it wouldn't happen instantly, it'd take some time, but it did sting a bit that Angor didn't at least try with him at the moment. He ignored the sting, putting the smile back on his face. Once again, he wasn't going to give up.
'Angor.' he started, talking a bit more softly, keeping his voice down. 'It's just sauce, nothing more. Can you trust me?'
Angor's shoulders slightly tensed when he saw the look in Draals eyes. The bigger man tried to hide it, but he could see some sort of sadness in them. The unknown, unpleasant feeling he had experienced in the basement a couple of days ago, came creeping in again. He realized he'd hurt the man again. Why did this stupid thing affect him so much?
The assassin's frown softened a bit as his eyes fell on the fork, considering if he would keep hurting Draal and decline or just do it. It did smell pretty good. Sighing deeply, he grabbed the fork out of Draal's hand and put it in his mouth, mentally cursing while he tried the sauce.
Draal looked a bit surprised that Angor suddenly took the fork from him, a bit of glee came back into his eyes, seeing that the assassin took the risk.
'What do you think?'
Angor put the fork down, looking down at his food, saying nothing. He didn't want to admit that Draal was right, but it was delicious. Back in the Prison house he only ate uncooked food, quickly grabbing whatever was in the bag, shortening the time he had to spent with Gunmar in one room. He never tried hot, human food before the Lake house. It didn't make it better that tasting the sauce only made him feel more hungry. He could easily eat this, but it meant he had to ask Draal for help. It frustrated him that he was able to open up a bit towards Draal a few days ago and now he couldn't even ask for something as simple as this. All he had to do was ask.
It's okay to ask for my help. You're safe with me.
The assassin sighed again, closing his eyes while he decided to take just get it over with. Slowly, with reluctance and trying to hide the fact that this made him extremely uncomfortable, he lowly asked.
'Can you help me with this?'
Draal immediately lit up, his smile returning ten fold as he took the plate and started to cut the dish. He knew it would only make the assassin more uncomfortable if he said it out loud, but he felt a bit of proud of him. Asking for this small task may seem simple for most people, but for Angor it was a big step and he took it. He could see it in the way that the man avoided his gaze all together now, just staring at the table in front of him, trying his best not to look affected by the ordeal. It pleased Draal that he was starting to figure him out.
Draal gave the plate back, before continuing on his own again. When he looked up again, he saw the assassin started as well.
'It's good right?'
Angor silently nodded, still avoiding looking at anything accept the table. Draal felt a bit bad for him, but he knew that it was for the best. Turning back to his dinner, he accepted the guilt he felt. It was okay if the assassin stayed silent for the rest of the dinner, he didn't have to try more, this was enough for now.
'What's in it?'
Draal looked back up in surprise. He'd expected the assassin to ignore him for while, but he actually tried to continue the conversation. He felt a smile creep back on his face, enjoying the fact that Angor wanted to keep talking to him. His guilt melted away, knowing that he didn't go to far at least.
'Oh, there is some tomato in there, garlic, basil, meat. Oh and this thing called cheese! It's made from cow milk and you'll never guess how humans acquire that substance! It's weird.'
The assassin quietly nodded, keeping his eyes locked on the food.
'Oh and rat poison.'
Angor immediately shot up and looked at him, his eyes widened as he stopped eating. Draal gave him a dead serious face as he stared right back at him. Did the man just tell him he poisoned the food?! Before Angor could react, he noticed that the table had fallen silent. It seemed that Draal's confession didn't fall only on their own ears, the others giving the bigger man a horrified look
Suddenly, Draal's serious expression changed, as he cracked a smile and started to laugh. His shoulders shaking as he shook his head a little, showing Angor that he's toying with him. The assassin lowered his shoulders again, realizing that the guard was only joking.
'Draal, you almost gave me a heart attack!' Toby moaned from the across the table, letting his head heavily hang over the stair he was sitting on. The heavy tension disappeared for moment as the group relaxed, a sigh of relieve heard through the room.
'What?' the bigger man laughed, not understanding why they would take him seriously. 'Of course I wouldn't use that!'
'Draal. I have seen you try to eat a garbage bag the first week you came back. My fear is qualified!' Toby shot back at him, folding his arms together as he huffed.
Before Angor could stop himself, he jumped in the conversation. 'That are those dark, plastic ones right?'
Toby looked a bit taken aback by the unsuspected reaction of the assassin, suddenly breaking his silence towards them. 'Uh… yeah, that's right.'
'Really, Draal. A garbage bag?' the assassin asked the bigger man next to him. He couldn't hide the grin on his face. Draal tried to make a fool out of him but oh how the tables have turned. He may have broken his silent treatment for the moment, but after Draal's little stunt he pulled, it was worth it. 'Those things are far from organic.'
The amber eyed man looked a bit baffled by the sudden turn of events, staring at the grinning assassin. Angor had expected him to be offended but for some reason he gave the man a fascinated look. Draal didn't seemed to be faced by the teasing, finding it entertaining. It also looked like Draal knew something Angor didn't, having a come back on his sleeve as he returned the grin.
'Neither is strawberry lotion, Angor.'
The assassin's grinned immediately faded, as he realized in shock that Draal had caught him in the act when he was searching through the bathroom closets. Shit. If the bigger man found out that Angor was trying to escape, he surely would get more problems.
The guard started to crack up again, laughing as he saw Angor's expression. His shot got fired. Across the table, he could heard the trollhunter starting to laugh too, apparently finding it hilarious too. The assassin was a bit confused by this. Why where they laughing instead of distrusting his actions?
'One of the trolls tried to eat a cactus once.' Blinkous joined the conversation with a giggle, cutting off a piece of his food with a smile on his face. 'It was indeed green and organic, but he didn't get further then that.'
'Like you got it right the first time, mister eight minutes of sleep!' Jim jokingly said to the man with a laugh. Blinky gave him a somewhat offended look, not liking it when his intelligence was questioned.
'I simply misread the notes, mind you.'
Draal burst out in laughter again, his shoulder shaking, not noticing the assassin next to him still looked confused. There apparently was no poison to be found and no punishment for his mistake. The group just casually laughed at it and continued on, happily teasing each other. Accept for Blinkous, who kept getting offended when the others mentioned more of his human mistakes. Angor didn't understand why he didn't get the consequences he expected, so he stayed silent again, quietly observing the groups conversations, analyzing their motives. Although it did seem useless as he couldn't find one, his question not answered.
Draal would occasionally pull Angor into the conversation, teasing him or asking questions. The assassin didn't say much, but hesitantly followed along, still not quite following what was going on, but it didn't feel unpleasant. The air in the room was something the assassin didn't know existed, it felt lighter, more at ease. The laughter wasn't sinister or mocking, it was different, less threatening. Angor had yet to find out why, but he let it for now. Slowly, he felt the need to get away from the table fade, simply observing the group as he continued eating. He wasn't going to utter a word about it, but this dinner things weren't as bad as he thought it would be.
Life hack: All things can be solved with lasagne.
Hope you liked it!