laytondressing | (no subject)

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[Roulette is still around, of course.

(barring a... minor gap in his presence)

He's just calmly sipping a cup of tea in one of the restaurants close to the lobby. Most of the people here are, to his knowledge, from worlds like his own. So, he thinks, let them come, so that he might see the differences between his world and the others like it. And as for those from worlds unlike his?

Well. If Tyrannus is truly lost to him, what's a (former, while he's here) prime minister to do but find a new project to occupy his time?]

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We'll see.

[And oh, look, his room. Carrying Petrel in, Roulette dumps him on the bed and then locks the door.

He'll just be keeping his eye on Petrel as he does that, though, don't mind him.]

[Petrel stands to his feet and dusts himself off.]

On the bed? Really?

This doesn't even have a touch of class.

Forgive me, my dear, it was the first available space.

What would you prefer? A chair?

Or perhaps chained to the wall.

[Spoilers: there's only one choice there.]

I would rather a chair. At a table. So we can have lunch.

[He's selectively ignoring his lack of choice.]

He really didn't train you, did he?

[He contemplates it for a moment, and then grabs Petrel again, dragging him over to another door and opening it. It leads to what looks like, under normal circumstances, it would be some kind of broom closet.

Broom closets don't tend to have manacles and chains fixed to their floors.]

I fear you'll need a spot in here before we can even start working.

A spot...

[That shuts Petrel up, for a moment, at least. He recoils, clutching onto Roulette's arm.]

You know, I think I'll behave.

Will you really? Perhaps you ought to spend some time here just to be sure.

I'm sure I don't want to be here, yeah, thanks.

[Pulls away from him.]

I'm also reasonably sure that I don't want to be around you and that I can find my Layton on my own.

Stay here, Clive. If you can behave, I won't chain you.

[Yet.]

But either way, you're staying.

Says who? Why should I listen to you?

[He grips Petrel's wrist again, twisting his arm up.]

Because if you don't listen, I'll take you to the roof.

The roof...?

Yes.

And then you'll take a trip off it.

You wouldn't do that.

Because if you did, you'd lose both your bargaining chip and a chance to show my Layton you're better than him by educating me properly.

There will always be another Clive. Killing you will make no difference.

[And, of course, he'll grab him back again. But Petrel doesn't need to know that.]

Yeah, but no other Clive that's his Clive.

My Layton isn't going to bend over backwards to save just any Clive. To be honest, it's hard enough picturing him bending over backwards to save anyone.

Who says I intend for him to save you? I intend to have a servant to replace Tyrannus, nothing more.

...

Don't you care about your own Clive?

[Oh Petrel, you silly goose!]

Not particularly, no. Any Clive will do.

Yeah, you're crazy.

And I'm not sticking around to see exactly how mental you are.

[Petrel ducks and then darts for the door, grabbing the handle.]

It's locked.

[He sits himself on the edge of the bed, watching Petrel.]

[Doesn't hurt to try the handle a few times. Well, what do you know, it's locked. Petrel looks around frantically for another means of exit.]

[There isn't one. Roulette will let him reach that conclusion himself, though.]

Okay, so no windows no doors. Figures.

I'm guessing you're going to torture me until I submit, then?

You know me so well. Good.