PotHN: an Eye for an Arm [1x1]

"Beg? You expect me to bend over and kiss your ass for what? A job that I've done for seven years? What next, you want me to come over there and suck your di-"

Ciaran was too hot under the collar to notice as Alys slipped between them and out the door, locking it behind her. Caleb was quick to start banging on the wood, a moot point being the small-framed man that he was. Ciaran could kick it in, it wouldn't have been the first time he'd done it, but he liked watching his new captain struggle. After Caleb called out to Alys, Ciaran stepped towards him, planting a thick hand against the door. "No." His anger boiled just below the surface. "This door stays shut until I get some fucking answers, Caleb."

Ciaran towered over the fae man, he didn't need to flex his muscles to make his point. If he wanted to hold Caleb here, he could. "You're going to tell me why the fuck you plan to demote me." Ciaran pulled a pair of sturdy chairs from the table and slammed them down to face one another, but he did not sit. "You're going to tell me about this business with our new friend Sol."

"And you're going to tell me exactly what happened down there between you and Sinead, not the story you'll tell at her wake. The truth."

First he treated him like a fool, then he stole his booze. Well, to be fair he didn't say it wasn't for sharing. But fuck him anyway, he was an asshole and he killed Sinead. He killed Sinead to save everyone else. It had to be done and in the moment he did what he had to, Ciaran couldn't blame him for that. Obviously there was a lot in those twenty hours that he'd left out - the tired look in Alys' eyes and the frustration in Caleb's voice told him half as much, but that wasn't the issue right now.

Ciaran took the bottle with a swipe of his hand and took another swig. "What the fuck is your problem with me, Caleb? What have I done to make you hate me like this? I'm not joking, I honestly don't fucking know any more."

"Yeah, you're right Caleb. I don't care about money, I hate killing people, and I hate how easily it comes to me." 

Ciaran reached for the straps around his bicep and loosened them one by one. He was tired - tired of Caleb, tired of drinking, and tired of having to explain himself. "But there are some good people here. Some, not everyone. But there are enough to warrant me making sure they live long enough to leave all this behind."

"Once they're gone, I'm gone."

Ciaran returned his laugh, leaning the chair off it's front legs as he did. "I'm no hero. I'm a damn fool, but I'm not a good man." If he was, maybe he'd be somewhere groundside. Maybe Beck would be there, maybe not. "You might think we're all damned, but I don't. Not even you, Caleb." That wasn't what his parents taught him, what the old ways said. He wanted to believe that. 

"I remember them, all of them." He looked to the bottle. "I remember what we all did, what we still do." They all had their vices, their remedies.

"I believe you've still got a chance to be better, I see it. That's why I'm here and I don't care if you don't believe me."