Honestly, Victor had never been all that into these kind of parties, but it had gotten even less appealing as time moved on. As things changed. As less mattered.
Getting drunk had never done much for him, drugs were already losing their novelty too. He was the richest teenager in Gotham, just old enough to be the sole heir after his parents had been pronounced dead. There was really nothing he couldn't afford, which made it a lot less fun to get anything.
The crowd at this party was too boring. Everyone looked the same. Sounded the same. Blah blah. Next time he'd invite better people, he'd have to do some careless curating.
Someone was talking at him and he wasn't even attempting to listen. Instead he scanned the room, wondering if he should just throw everyone out. Then his eyes were drawn to someone with a different energy. It was subtle at first. Just a different infliction to his voice, different than all these other young, rich socialites with their vapid lives.
Then the guy started dancing and - given the way it definitely did not fit the music - the standing out was much less subtle now. Victor smiled to himself and walked right over. Some people could be a better high than any drug.
'This was not music to dance to' apparently. According to his date. His annoying, irritating and fucking stupid date who was mutter vapid, vain nonsense to him all night. Well, he'd show her. Though whether or not he was providing his point, he clearly didn't know or care. He just looked at her with a cocky smirk as he moved his body. Not music to dance to? Pfft. Every song could be danced to. She just didn't want to try.
She looked embarrassed and tried to move away but he didn't care, he let her slip off into the crowd, yelling after her. "What? It's a fucking party and no one wants to have fun? Where are you going, Blair? Walking away? Fucking typical! You bitch all night about everyone but look at you! Gold digger."
He hissed lightly in her direction, not caring if he was making a scene. He just closed his eyes and moved to the music, spinning playfully and then opening his eyes to see Zsasz in front of him.
"Zsasz, baby! Great party. Except the people. The people suck."
"Yeah. Hard to throw parties without people." Or was it? Victor tilted his head to the side and looked around, turning slowly. Finally he took a step back, closer to-- Whatever that guy's name was. He really ought to remember that. "Stay."
He said it quietly, meant for whatshisface and no one else and perhaps it didn't make much sense immediately. But then he jumped on the couch table close by and yelled out loud. "GET OUT! EVERYONE GET LOST!"
There was some confusion, but after a few minutes and some very insistent stares, the room really did clear out and Victor sat down, on the couch table, looking at the guy.
"...who are you again?" Whatever. He could afford anything. Including being rude.
Huh. Everyone just fucked right off... that was kind of funny. Roman laughed as he watched the people file out, wondering if he'd ever see his date again. God, he hoped not. She was pretty dull for a party girl. What even was a party girl these days? They seemed oddly anti party.
Roman stopped dancing and stretched out instead, looking at Victor with obvious amusement. "Roman. Roman Beauvais Sionis. Romy, I suppose. If you're feeling informal."
With a wink, Roman grabbed a nearby chair, dragged it along near Victor and sat on it the wrong way, leaning on the backrest to look at Victor. "Nice place you got. Awful party though. It's not you, it's them. I love the décor though. Very modern with a twist. Nice pop of colour from the art too. Do you know the artists?"
His parents always knew the names of every artist they hung on the wall and expected him to know as well but hell, like he could remember.
"Hm. Downstairs living room, mostly was my mom picking stuff out." Victor looked around, leaning back to do so, finally gesturing to one of the paintings. "I know that guy. I liked his other stuff more. Got some of that."
He did like art, some art anyway, he just wasn't good with names. Or with caring about things these days, which he knew was part of the point of art. "'m sure they all know me, when they need money." That was how it went. Was to be expected.
"Roman." Not a bad name. He didn't mind it. Maybe he'd be able to remember it. "You aren't boring." That was something. "What do you do?"
"If we go by what my parents tell me, I mostly fuck up. I can't help it. I keep doing it." He laughed in a bitter way and then started to pat himself down, trying to find what he wanted. He eventually plucked out a pill and knocked it into his mouth, leaning forward to wash it down with a half drunk bottle of beer... that wasn't his. He pulled a face and looked at Victor, sticking out his tongue. "That's what beer tastes like? Fucking ew. Yuck! Blergh."
He pulled a few faces and then set the beer back down, shaking his head in disapproval. Okay, beer was as gross as he expected.
"There's no one thing I do. I'll do anything at least once. That's how I broke my arm in forth grade, wanted to jump out the window. It wasn't that fun. I expected it to be but it was less like flying and more like." He mimed his hand splatting into the table before giggling. "Never gonna do that again. Don't do that. Not fun, I'm not into it. Let's do something more fun likeeeeeeeee... BDSM club?"
Well, he was trying to think of something not boring.
Victor looked at him for a moment, then he smiled. "Sure." Why not? He got up, walked over and moved the glasses off the table. He didn't want rings on that. "Come on. You can pick a car."
That said he headed out the room and toward the stairs that led down to the garage. Of course he had multiple cars, his parents already had those and he did like sleek, fast and beautiful. He was a teenage billionaire, it was really to be expected. "I've jumped out of windows. Not so bad when you stick the landing."
Victor walked into the room with Lin and Latoya in tow, hands by his side, but not reaching for a gun yet. He didn't think he'd need a gun, Roman wouldn't want to get caught in crossfire and he wouldn't want him shot at anyway. He imagined parts of Roman would probably enjoy the ability to do other things to Victor, but shooting him? Nah, he wasn't concerned.
"Hi." He greeted everyone, but then really just looked at Roman. Why was the man's office so comically oversized? If he hadn't known better, he'd have guessed he had a small penis. "You got time to talk business?"
Of course everyone was supposed to have time for him, having no time for him was like having no time for Falcone. Anyone else, he'd not have extended the courtesy of asking, but this was Roman. He liked him. They had something. So he showed him more respect than he'd earned.
"Gimme a second, Zsaszy, just gotta finish up here."
Roman knew that there was no way to really dismiss Falcone, he was too powerful but he could just about get away with delaying his message by finishing his mundane conversation with the guys working for him. It was as much of a power trip as he could get. Pointless but he had to have it or he'd never be receptive to talking. He finished handing out the envelopes of money and whistled at the guys. "Go change the odds and make sure the stream will be live. Go!"
Turning to Victor, he grinned brightly and pointed out him. "Victor, baby, how are you doing? Nice suit, very flash. Very swanky. Love your -- girls?" He tilted his head to the side, looking at both before smirking. "Sexy."
"Women." Well, they weren't really girls, seemed wrong. Victor wondered whether Roman realised how much favour he was really showing him here by waiting for those guys to finish talking to him, but he suspected his expression and the foot-tapping might have clued him in. "Wait outside."
That was for Lin and Latoya, who exchanged a look but then turned and left, as instructed, closing the door behind them. Victor moved closer to Roman's gigantic desk, letting out a sigh. "Don't ever bore me like that again."
He'd tolerate making him stand through meetings from Falcone and even then he whined.
"I had to finish business. I have a live show in about half an hour and they would have been awkwardly loitering around otherwise. I don't like slackers." With a sigh, he came over to Victor and got close into his personal space, smiling apologetically as he reached up and stroked his cheek. "Don't be mad at me, I hate when you're mad at me. I already know you're here to tell me off so let's not create more bad energy."
Why else would he be here to talk business? Falcone never liked him. Not at all. Every time he spoke to Falcone, it was some kind of dressing down so he just wanted Victor to relax with him before he got told off.
"Want a drink? You can take a seat. Just relax. We're friends, aren't we?"
"I don't drink on the job." He also didn't really take a seat much, at least for jobs like this. But then, he also usually didn't talk to small time bosses who knew him well enough to get away with touching him, much less stroke his cheek, so it was all pretty unique here. Still, he wasn't about to start drinking.
He looked at the desk, frowning. "Why is that so big?" It really did puzzle him. He had a really big bed, that made a lot more sense to him than this. Must be designer. "Nice décor. By the way." Lots of masks, unsurprisingly.
"Because it cost a lot of money. Why else? It's designer, I got it from an up and coming designer. It's beautiful, isn't it? Worth it's price, very good wood." He rapped his knuckles against it before moving away to get himself a drink, pouring himself something strong. "I got a lot of stuff from my travels. After my parents died, I went soul searching. It was fun." He didn't find his soul but he did get a lot of African souvenirs and a lot of masks. Too many masks, one might argue.
He walked over to a black mask and stroked his fingers down it, looking at it instead of Victor. "This one is my favourite. It's custom made. Such craftmanship." He loved fucking while wearing it.
"Zsasz, darling, my love!" Roman declared as Victor walked in, lazily sprawled at the visitor table with his legs up, eating some grapes because he'd felt like it and bribed the idiot guards to get him some. For once in his live, his money mattered and worked for him. He was finally top dog and Arkham was something he could rule.
"Hm." Good question. In some ways, Victor supposed. He shrugged and sat down across from Roman, looking him over as much as he could see, but quickly concluding that he hadn't been hurt. He had no suspicion of Roman hiding anything like that from him, he had heard the man whine about the tiniest injuries before. Or that one time he had had the flu and texted him about it nonstop. Riveting stuff.
"It's still standing." Less solidly though. "I found a place that does great milkshakes. I'll take you some time."
"I look forward to it. I'd love to be out of this dump. The people are weird here. Like seriously weird. They think I'm tweaked or something but seriously, these fucking weirdos." He was nothing next to them. "Between clown boy and the cannibal, I'm dying for sane and sensible conversation, you know? I even chatted sports with the guards. Urrrrgh, so boring."
But it filled his need to talk about something and have it make a little bit of sense. He was crazy, sure, but he wasn't that crazy. "So, tell me, what going on in Gotham? Who died? Who won the power struggle... is that even still happening?"
He didn't care, he knew he'd never win so it was pointless to care about.
"Maroni's gunning for it. He keeps hitting me up. Seriously needy." Reminded him of Roman sometimes, honestly, but he kept that thought to himself. "I'm staying out of it."
Because that was what Don Falcone had told him to do and because he could see his point. It was best to see who would come out on top. If Victor was to choose anyone, it'd likely catapult them right there. And, honestly, he wasn't hugely impressed by any of the potentials right now. "Always calls me Vic. Don't care for that."
"Of course I can. I'm special. I can do things no one else can cause we're like this." He crossed his fingers playfully and then leaned forward, ruffling his messy hair as he tried to work out what Victor was feeling. A fun yet impossible task. He never really showed feelings. "I've been trying to read you since school and it's just never happened, not once, but sometimes I can tell when things are ... wrong?"
Something was off, Victor seemed -- depressed? Maybe? Hard to tell. Seriously. There was no real strong emotion there.
This wasn't the first time he'd thought about it, but it was the first time he had been asked like this. Roman was always special, it was true. And Roman didn't just see him as what he was, which was special too. Given what he had become, very few ever saw the who past the what.
He lifted his shoulders a little and thought back, trying to figure out what bothered him, if he really was bothered. "He gave up. He could have kept going. I could have kept him going. But he sent me away."
It wasn't right. He was glad that his Don was still alive, but he was gone. It wasn't unlike his parents' death. What was left to care about now?
Throughout his life, Victor couldn't really remember many instances of being afraid. Thrilled, sure, he was actively looking for that. But this was different. His heart was racing and it was harder to breathe than it should be. He had people all over the city looking for escapees in Arkham uniforms. He knew that Roman didn't work well with people, so if that was the intention of whoever broke them out? Unlikely to end well.
When he finally got a tip, it made it sound dire. Of course he hurried and by the time he got to the place, Roman had lost consciousness.
He carried him to the car and Roman did open his eyes then, smiled a dopey smile and passed back out.
Hours later, Victor sat next to him in his bed, holding Roman's hand, not caring how sentimental that was. The doctor who'd stitched him up had given a good prognosis, so he shouldn't feel this tense any more, but here he was still, staring at him watchfully, as if he could keep him from being shot retroactively.
"Ow." Roman moaned as he opened his eyes and squinted at Victor, not sure what was going on right now because everything was kind of weird and off. Like being on some very expensive drugs - Kind of felt nice and floaty, even if the pain was still sort of there, in his side, hard to ignore. "The fucker shot me..."
Galavan fucking shot him! What the fuck? He lay there for a while just processing it, remember Jerome's laughter and fucking Barbara stepping over him. So much for loyalty. Bunch of dumb fucks.
Looking at Victor, he pouted in a ridiculous way, seeming wholly annoyed by such an affront to himself. "Vic, he shot me."
"Yeah." Kind of obvious and all, but Victor knew he was bound to whine and he didn't even care, because it meant that he was alive, aware and still Roman. He hadn't lost him. He moved to straddle him, holding himself above him, because he didn't want to aggravate his injury. He kissed his pouty lip, then along his jaw, his neck, made sure to feel his pulse against his tongue, to know that he was alive, that he was still there.
In his own way, insofar as that he needed Roman to be Roman and to be alive, he was very needy too. This was certainly proving that.
"Heh. Tickles." Roman snorted in amusement as he looked at Victor, watching him curiously before he raised his hand to stroke Victor's cheek. It was hard to actually lift his arm, he felt like it was trapped in mud or something but he got there in the end. "Were you worried? I was worried too. He shot me!" And it hurt a lot. He wanted revenge. He wanted to kill Galavan!
"Did anyone see you take me? I really don't want to go back to that shit hole. I wanna stay here, the bed is nice. Smells like you." And he liked it a lot, way better than the weird bed he had in Arkham.
"No one saw me." No one who'd ever tell anyone about anything that Victor Zsasz was up to, anyway, which was all that was relevant. "And I'm not letting anyone take you."
Take Roman from him. He was keeping him close, keeping him safe. He was his.
"I was worried." Not something he might have easily admitted to under different circumstances, but it wasn't as if it wasn't obvious. He had used a lot of resources finding him and treating him. "Who did it?"
"He told his sister to shoot me and she did. They wanted to form a gang but you know me, I fucking hate team work. I told him to go fuck himself and I assumed the others would too. Turns out they're not loyal or smart. They think this whole maniac thing is smart." Roman ranted as he looked at Victor, surprised to see so much emotion in his eyes. He never lacked it but he didn't project like he was now. He really did worry about him? Well, damn right he should.
He was important. He was Roman Sionis - Victor Zsasz's best friend/prom date/secret handshake bud.
"They're going after the GCPD. Galavan and his sister want chaos, it's so fucking stupid. It's just gonna make everyone crazier."
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Getting drunk had never done much for him, drugs were already losing their novelty too. He was the richest teenager in Gotham, just old enough to be the sole heir after his parents had been pronounced dead. There was really nothing he couldn't afford, which made it a lot less fun to get anything.
The crowd at this party was too boring. Everyone looked the same. Sounded the same. Blah blah. Next time he'd invite better people, he'd have to do some careless curating.
Someone was talking at him and he wasn't even attempting to listen. Instead he scanned the room, wondering if he should just throw everyone out. Then his eyes were drawn to someone with a different energy. It was subtle at first. Just a different infliction to his voice, different than all these other young, rich socialites with their vapid lives.
Then the guy started dancing and - given the way it definitely did not fit the music - the standing out was much less subtle now. Victor smiled to himself and walked right over. Some people could be a better high than any drug.
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She looked embarrassed and tried to move away but he didn't care, he let her slip off into the crowd, yelling after her. "What? It's a fucking party and no one wants to have fun? Where are you going, Blair? Walking away? Fucking typical! You bitch all night about everyone but look at you! Gold digger."
He hissed lightly in her direction, not caring if he was making a scene. He just closed his eyes and moved to the music, spinning playfully and then opening his eyes to see Zsasz in front of him.
"Zsasz, baby! Great party. Except the people. The people suck."
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He said it quietly, meant for whatshisface and no one else and perhaps it didn't make much sense immediately. But then he jumped on the couch table close by and yelled out loud. "GET OUT! EVERYONE GET LOST!"
There was some confusion, but after a few minutes and some very insistent stares, the room really did clear out and Victor sat down, on the couch table, looking at the guy.
"...who are you again?" Whatever. He could afford anything. Including being rude.
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Roman stopped dancing and stretched out instead, looking at Victor with obvious amusement. "Roman. Roman Beauvais Sionis. Romy, I suppose. If you're feeling informal."
With a wink, Roman grabbed a nearby chair, dragged it along near Victor and sat on it the wrong way, leaning on the backrest to look at Victor. "Nice place you got. Awful party though. It's not you, it's them. I love the décor though. Very modern with a twist. Nice pop of colour from the art too. Do you know the artists?"
His parents always knew the names of every artist they hung on the wall and expected him to know as well but hell, like he could remember.
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He did like art, some art anyway, he just wasn't good with names. Or with caring about things these days, which he knew was part of the point of art. "'m sure they all know me, when they need money." That was how it went. Was to be expected.
"Roman." Not a bad name. He didn't mind it. Maybe he'd be able to remember it. "You aren't boring." That was something. "What do you do?"
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He pulled a few faces and then set the beer back down, shaking his head in disapproval. Okay, beer was as gross as he expected.
"There's no one thing I do. I'll do anything at least once. That's how I broke my arm in forth grade, wanted to jump out the window. It wasn't that fun. I expected it to be but it was less like flying and more like." He mimed his hand splatting into the table before giggling. "Never gonna do that again. Don't do that. Not fun, I'm not into it. Let's do something more fun likeeeeeeeee... BDSM club?"
Well, he was trying to think of something not boring.
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That said he headed out the room and toward the stairs that led down to the garage. Of course he had multiple cars, his parents already had those and he did like sleek, fast and beautiful. He was a teenage billionaire, it was really to be expected. "I've jumped out of windows. Not so bad when you stick the landing."
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"Hi." He greeted everyone, but then really just looked at Roman. Why was the man's office so comically oversized? If he hadn't known better, he'd have guessed he had a small penis. "You got time to talk business?"
Of course everyone was supposed to have time for him, having no time for him was like having no time for Falcone. Anyone else, he'd not have extended the courtesy of asking, but this was Roman. He liked him. They had something. So he showed him more respect than he'd earned.
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Roman knew that there was no way to really dismiss Falcone, he was too powerful but he could just about get away with delaying his message by finishing his mundane conversation with the guys working for him. It was as much of a power trip as he could get. Pointless but he had to have it or he'd never be receptive to talking. He finished handing out the envelopes of money and whistled at the guys. "Go change the odds and make sure the stream will be live. Go!"
Turning to Victor, he grinned brightly and pointed out him. "Victor, baby, how are you doing? Nice suit, very flash. Very swanky. Love your -- girls?" He tilted his head to the side, looking at both before smirking. "Sexy."
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That was for Lin and Latoya, who exchanged a look but then turned and left, as instructed, closing the door behind them. Victor moved closer to Roman's gigantic desk, letting out a sigh. "Don't ever bore me like that again."
He'd tolerate making him stand through meetings from Falcone and even then he whined.
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Why else would he be here to talk business? Falcone never liked him. Not at all. Every time he spoke to Falcone, it was some kind of dressing down so he just wanted Victor to relax with him before he got told off.
"Want a drink? You can take a seat. Just relax. We're friends, aren't we?"
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He looked at the desk, frowning. "Why is that so big?" It really did puzzle him. He had a really big bed, that made a lot more sense to him than this. Must be designer. "Nice décor. By the way." Lots of masks, unsurprisingly.
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He walked over to a black mask and stroked his fingers down it, looking at it instead of Victor. "This one is my favourite. It's custom made. Such craftmanship." He loved fucking while wearing it.
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It's the little things that mattered most.
"How you doing, Vic? Is Gotham burning yet?"
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"It's still standing." Less solidly though. "I found a place that does great milkshakes. I'll take you some time."
He was a lot less busy now.
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But it filled his need to talk about something and have it make a little bit of sense. He was crazy, sure, but he wasn't that crazy. "So, tell me, what going on in Gotham? Who died? Who won the power struggle... is that even still happening?"
He didn't care, he knew he'd never win so it was pointless to care about.
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Because that was what Don Falcone had told him to do and because he could see his point. It was best to see who would come out on top. If Victor was to choose anyone, it'd likely catapult them right there. And, honestly, he wasn't hugely impressed by any of the potentials right now. "Always calls me Vic. Don't care for that."
Well. "You can do it."
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Something was off, Victor seemed -- depressed? Maybe? Hard to tell. Seriously. There was no real strong emotion there.
"What's in your head, Vic? Talk to me."
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He lifted his shoulders a little and thought back, trying to figure out what bothered him, if he really was bothered. "He gave up. He could have kept going. I could have kept him going. But he sent me away."
It wasn't right. He was glad that his Don was still alive, but he was gone. It wasn't unlike his parents' death. What was left to care about now?
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When he finally got a tip, it made it sound dire. Of course he hurried and by the time he got to the place, Roman had lost consciousness.
He carried him to the car and Roman did open his eyes then, smiled a dopey smile and passed back out.
Hours later, Victor sat next to him in his bed, holding Roman's hand, not caring how sentimental that was. The doctor who'd stitched him up had given a good prognosis, so he shouldn't feel this tense any more, but here he was still, staring at him watchfully, as if he could keep him from being shot retroactively.
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Galavan fucking shot him! What the fuck? He lay there for a while just processing it, remember Jerome's laughter and fucking Barbara stepping over him. So much for loyalty. Bunch of dumb fucks.
Looking at Victor, he pouted in a ridiculous way, seeming wholly annoyed by such an affront to himself. "Vic, he shot me."
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In his own way, insofar as that he needed Roman to be Roman and to be alive, he was very needy too. This was certainly proving that.
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"Did anyone see you take me? I really don't want to go back to that shit hole. I wanna stay here, the bed is nice. Smells like you." And he liked it a lot, way better than the weird bed he had in Arkham.
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Take Roman from him. He was keeping him close, keeping him safe. He was his.
"I was worried." Not something he might have easily admitted to under different circumstances, but it wasn't as if it wasn't obvious. He had used a lot of resources finding him and treating him. "Who did it?"
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He was important. He was Roman Sionis - Victor Zsasz's best friend/prom date/secret handshake bud.
"They're going after the GCPD. Galavan and his sister want chaos, it's so fucking stupid. It's just gonna make everyone crazier."
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