the_last_resort | Niko Bellic

Who: Niko Bellic | Charon
What: An attempt to make Charon be human
When: Sometime before the trip to the desert temple and after Dorian's masquerade.
Where: All around Blackway
Notes & Warnings: Language probably. Horrors will likely come up, as it is Charon and Niko and their worlds suck. Some talk of human trafficking to start.

He didn't know when he'd gotten it into his head that he was going to try and see if he could pull some of Charon's humanity back into view. There had to be some in there. Maybe it was that uneasy feeling that Charon had spent more than a lifetime being owned. Maybe it was knowing that Niko himself had sold people, had saddled them with ownership. Maybe because Niko knew he'd been owned by Bulgarin and his sordid business, and that was so damn hard to escape. Maybe it was that when he looked at Charon, he looked on the outside like Niko sometimes felt on the inside.

Whatever the reason, he was trying as hard as he could. First there was the bowling alley at Mr. Jellicles. And then pool and darts at Pugsy's. Oh, he was putting effort into it, and from what he could tell there was very little response.

In a way, it was kind of heart-wrenching. He worried sometimes that he was beyond saving, he didn't want to think a big hunk of Charon's head was, too.

Then again, he guessed that there was such a thing as trying too hard.

Niko didn't let it cross his face as he stepped out of Pugsy's with him. He just patted the tall ghoul on the shoulder and gave him one of his failed-friendly looks. "Well, at least I know how good your aim is now." See? Wouldn't Roman be pleased with Niko for looking on the positive side. He pulled his hand back, ignoring the odd scent that came off Charon and feeling ashamed that he was a little concerned that his glove might end up smelling like that if he kept touching him.

Eh. He'd smelled worse.

"I'll see you later?" He offered and started to walk off finally, internally defeated but refusing, refusing to let it show because if there was one iota of humanity left in Charon- well, Niko knew how he would feel if someone gave up on him right to his face. He hadn't made it more than twelve steps when he accidentally ran into the back of a large, scaled man.

The next moment Niko had strong, three-fingered hands wrenching into the collar of his coat and lifting him off the ground. All fucking 6'2'' and 200 lbs of meaty, muscly Serb. "Oh, it's you." He said mildly, and then stooge poked the bastard in the eyes. It succeeded in getting him dropped hard onto the sidewalk, anyway.

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Charon was itching to blow the guy's head off himself, but things were different here, and work ethic was ingrained enough into him that he wouldn't do anything stupid, even if he was technically off duty. Technically. Because honestly, he's never off duty.

He lowers his shotgun once the guy is a decent enough distance away, but his guard is far from let down. In fact, he's watching the big lizard as he backs off.

"Asshole." The mutter is low and really, unless you were close enough it sounded more like he was clearing his throat.

Hesitantly Niko reached out and settled a hand on Charon's armor, finally leaning in to see how much of the gross stuff was still on him. He suspected it was probably hard for ghouls to clean off that crap, sometimes, with the state of their skin.

"Hey uh... Why don't uh.... we go clean this off, man. Sit somewhere and I can help you take care of it."

He was a little regretful for escalating it, he'd just been pissed off. But that was one of Niko's problems, he got pissed off easy.

"I got it," is Charon's gruff reply as he reaches up to wipe more of that gunk off. Unfortunately he only succeeds in getting some on his arm and making it worse.

There's a string of grumbled curses muttering under his breath as he lowers his arm and glares disdainfully at the white...stuff.

"The hell is this shit?"

"Not sure, but I do guess that it's a pretty big insult." He sounds a little pissed at it, because he didn't like his friends insulted and whatever the hell that was probably was intended to do some damage.

"Come on, here, let me-" He thumped his shoulder and tried to usher him towards a restaurant with outdoor seating. There he could sit him down and get him some paper towels.

Charon doesn't budge at first when Niko nudges him, but when he realizes he's not going to get this crap off himself he grumbles something under his breath and begins to head towards the restaurant.

He continues to try and get the stuff off of him as he moves over to one of the seats, but he's still having no luck.

Niko probably should have been more put off. Instead he was reminded of some of the bombing victims in the war, burn victims pulled from rubble, that needed their skin cleaned. The smell on Charon proved he was far beyond that point.

He used a table napkin, holding the back of Charon's head and with his thumb up behind where his ear once was to keep him steady, 'cause he could tell he didn't like being tended to. All the while he was ignoring odd looks from customers because fuck them, they didn't have someone spit in their face.

He was trying to be quick about it, at least.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" he asked, just to be sure.

There's a twitch every so often in Charon's face - or lack thereof, as Niko wipes away at the white gunk, the napkin likely taking away other oozy messes that comes from a constantly rotting face. He almost swats his hand away to tell him to forget it, that he'd take care of it later. But he was here, and going back on patrol with white shit on his face was bound to have him be taken less seriously. Sometimes, Charon really hated it when tiny bits of insecurities he hadn't felt in decades resurfaced for seemingly no apparent reason. Maybe he was going mad.

"No." Just aggravating quite a bit. But it wasn't Niko's fault, he at least realizes. It was just the situation he was put in. The fact that he was sitting here needing aid for the most ridiculous shit. He would have felt better if he needed a bullet taken out of his gut, honestly.

His next words are gruff, naturally, tinged with impatience. "Is it coming off?"

"Yeah, it's almost taken care of." He pulled the napkin back and threw it away. "Good enough to get the rest off in a sink pretty easy." He thought better of making a wry remark that at least Charon wasn't stuck walking around looking like someone blew a load in his face.

That is a very wise decision Niko, because Charon sure as hell would not appreciate the humor. Hell, he wouldn't have appreciated it decades ago either. He was always a serious person.

There's obvious hesitation in his words, but the roughness in his voice...or tone, at least, has lessened quite a bit.

"...Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem." He replied, shrugging lightly after. "What are annoying unwanted friends for."

Despite the self depreciating humor, he seemed in a good humor about it and went ahead and beckoned over a waitress to order some tea, and some jam like you would put on toast. She looked confused, but went to fulfill the order.

"One time we had this friend, Florian. He dreamed of becoming a professional wrestler. But ah, not normal wrestling. Turkish style. So he convinced me and our other friends to cover ourselves in olive oil and try to have a match? Imagine a room full of idiot teenagers. Barefoot. Linoleum floor. Greased up. We almost broke our necks." He chuckles faintly at the memory. "Cleaning off this is way easier than that..."

Really he had no idea how he didn't know Florian was gay for so long.

Edited 2014-10-19 22:22 (UTC)

Charon listened if only because Niko was talking, and he was used to listening. Of course, now he didn't have to, but it was force of habit. Unfortunately being a good conversationalist wasn't a force of habit, and after Niko is done reminiscing on his teenage years (could Charon even remember being a teenager? No, that was one of the things forever lost on him), he clears his throat (or maybe it's just another one of his sounds), and fixes Niko with a look that shows he's sill business.

"Who was that guy?"

Because that whole confrontation is still running through his head. That scaly bastard seemed to know him.

"The fucking lizard guy?" Of course the fucking lizard guy. Niko just shrugged.

"Just some asshole that doesn't like me too well. We had an argument a while back. Every time he sees me he tries to do that fucking kangaroo bullshit now."

"I can deal with it, though." He dismisses it as he gets something to drink. "Assholes are assholes, no matter where you go. The assholes haven't been too bad here."

Charon would definitely agree that assholes are still assholes wherever you go. There's no denying that.

"He attacked two armed men," and you better believe his tone was tinged with disbelief, a feeling that there was a little more to it than that. "Must have been one hell of an argument."

"Everyone is armed, there are spiders. Besides, he fucking knows I don't shoot people anymore," Niko grumped unhappily, taking a pack of sugar to turn in his fingers and look at. Anymore being the operative word. He used to. His conscious effort to change has, for the most part, left him feeling hollow. Not because he likes murder, but he hates guys like that walking on him.

"We're at the far end of town. The people around here usually don't see security out here, so if someone has a problem, they usually take care of it themselves."

"It was still a stupid move."

But Charon isn't going to try and find logic in a random thug. It's not like he isn't used to dealing with idiots and/or crazy people who act on rash and irrational thought.

"If you say you can handle it, fine." He's not one to push. But if he has to get involved he will, that much goes without saying.

Niko Bellic | Log 003

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