Work Text:
Aventurine spat out a glob blood, it landed satisfying on that pig-like face that had glared down at him for the past hour.
It meted him a hard punch to the cheek, a loud metallic rattle echoed in his ears as his bound arms shifted from the force, his tongue stung from where he’d accidentally clamped down too hard to hide the instinctive cry. Still, he grinned, all bloodied teeth and manic smile fixed permanently on his face, he knew he made a demented sight, and it made the frightened flinch from his assaulter all the more satisfying.
The grin stretched wider, positively crazed.
“Bastard,” his assaulter, a Mister…Arison? Avington. Said, well, more of hiss than anything, but his doctor wasn’t here to correct him now, was he?
Speaking of, any moment now Aventurine should be expecting an extra guest-
The door chunk opened.
Ratio walked in with an a mop of tousled brown and- ah, so it was the work of an alliance between the Avingtons and Goldmans! He glanced at Ratio with a job well done before schooling his manic smile into one of betrayal, a practiced act of letting the edges of his smile drop slightly, lips pursed in a grimace as his eyes widened in anger.
A bored look from Ratio answered him in return, but Goldman certainly enjoyed the look of vexation on his face.
“How’s the progress?” Goldman turned to Avington, relishing the bruise that was certainly prominent on his face.
“Tsk,” Avington gave him a look of disdain, certainly cursing Aventurine’s very existence in his head, “Bastard won’t talk.”
He saw the hit coming, but really, what could he do but tense in anticipation for the pain? His cuffs clunk again, louder this time, well someone certainly had a strong punch, didn't they?
Aventurine bit back a sound, smirking at Goldman with a look he knew would infuriate, “How unoriginal,” and infuriate it did, how he wished he could immortalized that look, “you’re going to have to try harder~”
Goldman scowled, a less enjoyable expression but, well, he hadn't had much of a choice in that matter, “Enough negotiating.”
Avington wrapped his filthy paws around Ratio's wrist, placing a gun in between those delicate fingers and Ratio followed the unspoken order to aim, mechanically raising his arm as he continued staring impassively down at Aventurine, unmoving.
Once upon a time, Aventurine would've mistaken that look as apathy, detachment, an indifference at the ravine between those lauded as ‘geniuses’ and those deemed inferior, an undisputed disinterest at garnering a camaraderie, of sorts, between himself and Aventurine.
“Well, Ratio?” Aventurine leaned forward, felt the cold barrel imprint itself on his forehead, “what are you waiting for?”
‘Still waiting for my call?’ He gazed at Ratio wordlessly, meeting aureate ichor like honey rolling down his throat, ‘still can't be bothered to make a move?’ Ratio glinted in the dingy light of this makeshift interrogation room, a result of his laurel? Those ever gleaming irises made of golden stardust? Or Ratio himself? ‘Still too high to be concerned with lowly matters like me?’
Once upon Aventurine would've mistaken the subtle shift of Ratio’s lips as disdain, contempt, a sort disgust patented in the eyes of those higher up in the ladder, an aversion for the grime trying to stick to their soles, a border drawn and established between where Ratio had always been, bathe in the light and flowering in the radiance, where Aventurine had tried to escape, slipping on crimson blood and immersed in the scent of everything dastardly.
Aventurine did not move from his stare down with Ratio, with the cold, unfeeling barrel; Ratio did not move from his stare down with Aventurine, with the somber, drab atmosphere.
They stood on opposite sides of a ravine, an impasse, a challenge, an unspoken acknowledgement.
“Last chance, scum,” Avington scoffed, placing himself next to the cold barrel, a paltry imitation of the real thing, truly, “Ya’ talking? Or will the bullet be the last thing ya’ see?”
Aventurine stared back at Ratio as if the gap was never there at all, as if he could walk across the glaring gulf with just the confidence in Ratio's eyes at his feet, the surety of Ratio's faith in his palms. The weight in those beautiful golden irises didn’t felt heavy at all.
Ratio fixed his gaze back at Aventurine, unmoving, waiting, rather than a stare down, it was an expectation, manic anticipation running thick in the air that only they could see, thick, practically opaque in it's concentration and yet, Aventurine could see something shimmering in the all-encompassing depths of Ratio's eyes.
Once upon a time, Aventurine would've mistaken it as indifference.
Now, he knew better, better than anyone else ever will.
Aventurine smirked at Avington, pressing into the barrel like he could force the bullet into his head with will alone, Avington flinched, they always flinched, though, the more dull ones would mistake a warning for a challenge and move closer.
All according to plan.
Aventurine spits, it landed squarely in between Avington’s eyes and, if his ribs weren't slightly aching, he would've bursted out laughing at the indignant screech that was let out.
An angry yell came from Goldman as he crowded closer to Ratio, using his vile palms to squeeze Ratio’s around the gun, staining them in his malicious grime, tainting Ratio in his sickening filth.
That won't do.
A small click chimes from his back.
For a moment, a everything is still, Ratio stares back, always unmoving, always waiting.
Aventurine nodded and time returned.
As he wrestled himself from the truly offending material of the cuffs- Not even Ingenium Metal for a Stoneheart? Really? - he reveled in the satisfying sounds of Ratio's grunts as he takes out the two buffoons.
‘It is a shame I don't have time to enjoy it,’ Aventurine thought as he untied the dreadfully underwhelming dead knot on his legs, ‘Another time, I suppose.’
“I do hope that rough beating has set that woefully inadequate mind of yours straight,” chimed his beloved doctor, barely a ruffle on his still pristine suit, “one could only wonder how you came up with this,” he grimaced, an exasperatedly quality came to his voice, “plan.”
“Aw, doc,” Aventurine caught the Ratio tossed his way, stepping over the unconscious body like they were pavement, “I know you love them!”
“If by love, you mean abhor with the very fabric of my being, then you would be correct,” Ratio sighed as he dusted some, invisible, dust off his shoulders before giving Aventurine a once over with- how delightful! Aventurine must make a sorry sight for such blatant concern in Ratio's gaze, “The establishment’s infirmary is untrustworthy at best, if you still wish to keep your head, it would be wiser to head to my lodgings.”
Trust, such an odd, fragile thing that held so much power in the hand of someone so waist deep in blood like Aventurine himself.
“My, my, such exquisite treatment from one of the most esteemed doctors in the Intelligentsia Guild?” Aventurine gave a performative bow in thanks, and proceeded to wince when his ribs throbbed in protest, already he could hear the impending lecture on his reckless actions ringing in his ears, “I'd be honored!”
Ratio rolled his eyes, opting to walk out the door and wait for Aventurine to be done with his business, though Aventurine was sure there was a delightfully gentle blush dusting Ratio's cheek.
He kept up the placating smile until the door slammed shut, knowing fully well that Ratio could see through his flares and acquiesced anyway.
Trust, such a sturdy, unwavering, thing that could be easily broken in the palms of someone so accustomed to the light like Ratio.
In an instant, he turned his eyes toward the groggy, terrified form of Avington and Goldman, twirling the gun around his finger like a child would a toy, “How adorable,” they flinched, it always got old when they did, it was quite a pathetic display, “you think we wouldn't realize you've woken up in the middle of our little tirade?”
Aventurine aimed the gun at Goldman first for daring to smear his filth on Ratio and- oh! How flattering, Ratio had already clicked off the safety.
Trust, such a precious, precious thing that he would cherish with more than his life.
Aventurine stepped on a scrambling palm, making sure to return the bruise tenfold, how delightful that he had his own doctor to tend to injuries for him, “The doctor consigned me to deal with you,” Aventurine beamed at the quivers wracking through Goldman's form, Avington tried to screamed for help but Aventurine knew Ratio had taken care of it long before.
Trust, trust, trust.
“It would sadden me greatly to break his trust.”