call me out!

[cyclical]

CALL ME OUT



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no smut please! but all other tomfoolery is a-okay

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[fika]

[ ready was subjective. and the thing is, no one ever was.

how could anyone be ready for something like this? they spent their childhood preparing to be world's saviors in whatever plan dad had pulled the strings of. instead, here they were as the harbingers of ruin and sometimes five has to wonder if they were always going to be. if this was something they would never be able to outrun.

ruble and dust and corpses.

five steps in tandem with his brother, elbows close enough to brush and cannot help the wretched glance he throws at the horizon around them, half-expecting to see another silhouette carved from the backdrop (but she's dead. no more deals with the devil, and yet he'd make one every single time if it would spare his family standing witness to this.)

he casts a long glance at the side of klaus' face, curious. his brother was always good at smoke and mirrors, at wearing that bravado on his sleeves but the truth was - no matter how he wore it, klaus had always cared more than the rest, was sensitive in ways that made it easier to unravel into a mess, with blunts at the dinner table and alcohol in his drawers to numb the worst away.

five wonders if the alcohol cellars from his first stint at the end of the world were still intact in this one.

Sweet Caroline manifests herself in that sweep of blue, radiant and otherworldly from klaus' delicate hands.

five doesn't turn away from the carnage, from the mangled neck or the burned flesh, (he's done worse days ago. the glass in her neck was a quicker death than one would think.) but he is grateful there is no smell.

he can't help the scoff at klaus' introduction, though, and it almost feels like this would be just another mission. ] We won't take up much of your time. [ five clips out, professionalism worn as thin veil. how many times did he ask simple little questions by way of commission assignments? ] What's the date, right now?

[ her brows scrunch up, a flicker of confusion between the two of them, and five's irritation sparks bright hot because he never really could help himself. certainly not now. his next questions are through a clenched jaw. ] I know, not a question you hear a lot. We just - got into town. Lost track of time. [ his smile is so forced right now. serrated in ways that really dig home just how much he hates this.

april 3rd, is the answer, a frustrated little huff. ] Year? [ 2014? says the dead woman, as though the two men in front of her are the crazy ones. she turns to look at klaus: is your son okay? ]

Oh, screw this! [ it just slips out, frazzled nerves getting the best of him because he can't even begin to start processing it, his thoughts a jumble of possibilities that very loudly don't make any sense. ]

[imprudency]

[ Klaus can't add much to the conversation, all things considered. It's hard enough focusing on the energy it takes to keep his hands still, his heart rate slow, his breathing deep. Conjuring Ben had been difficult, but familiar after some work. And he's not really put this gift into practice much over the years with the cult.

But there's Sweet Caroline, looking incredibly unimpressed but at least she's answering the questions. Until they get to the year. The year's the tricky bit, that makes his heart leap into his throat, because if they somehow ended the world sooner?

He looks, wide eyed at his brother, and for a moment Sweet Caroline herself flickers with the lack of focus. ]

Did she say 2014? You've got to be shitting me— [ His head whirls back to her and he holds his hands up in mock apology. ] My son would sooner have you deepthroating the piece of glass you've so graciously embedded in that old gizzard of yours, but yeah, he's doing just swell babe.

[ The ghost lets out a shriek of disgust, a hand to her bloody chest. The silvery-blue of her fading away to nothing. ] But we got a situation. You're not supposed to be dead, this bank's supposed to be busy and filled to the brim with snooty, old, white bitches so if you have any interest in preventing your very dramatic, very tragic end, you'll want to tell us what happened.

[ The woman looks startled, the brilliantly blue outline of her flickering again. There's not enough alcohol in the world for this shit, particularly when she turns her nose up with a huff. Well, until she finally mutters I don't remember. I remember a man, with a funny hat. Oh, and one of those monocle things. Just before it happened. An explosion? I had to have been an explosion, but he didn't seem surprised.

She flickers away as Klaus turns slowly, painfully slowly, toward his brother. ]

Did she...?