Alex stood ramrod straight, hands up to elbows immersed in foamy water. She had been scrubbing at a particular dish for the last 30 minutes, Chris noticed silently from the door.
He exhales forcefully before pushing off his slant on the door. He could spare some time for Alex at the moment, the kids were all sorted and asleep in their rooms, with the added bonus of noise-proofed walls in case she decided to have a good cry. He walked up to the sink and pulled the drain plug, watching the soap suds swirl into the unplugged hole.
Alex looks away from the plate rather belatedly and into the sink, before focusing on Chris beside her, then back to her still foamy hands. “I wasn't done with that yet.” She says.
“We own a dishwasher.” Chris responds, turning on clean water to rinse out her hands. “Also you've been at that particular plate for the past half hour. That's probably as clean as it's going to get.” He finishes, moving her to get her hands toweled dry.
Alex looks down at Chris rubbing the towel over her damp hands and frowns. “Look Chris, I'm fine.” She says, prying her hands from his grasp, “You don't have to treat me like a child.”
The words are barely out her mouth before she's striding out the kitchen, Chris scurries out after her, his knees protesting the action.
“Your brother just died, his corpse is in the garage freezer. You have the right to act like a child.” He says.
Alex stills on her climb to the stairs, and Chris worries he's offended her. Between her and Akio he recalls sadly, Akio was the one who insisted on manners and empathy. Alex preferred her discussions blunt and to the point.
“I can't cremate him.” She finally says after a while.
“What?” Chris responds intelligently.
“His entire family died on the pyre, it would be incredibly tone deaf to cremate him in turn.” Alex finishes. Thankfully Chris has caught up to her train of thought.
“What would he have wanted?” He asks, reconsidering when Alex rounds to face him. ”I mean, you guys never had any 'in case of such event' discussions?” He amends.
Alex makes a derisive noise in her throat before dropping to sit on the step cross legged. “We were young and thought we could-- would live forever. There wasn't really any need.”
Chris joins her on the step, knees popping loudly. “You're welcome to use the Jordan plot.”
Alex inclines her head towards him, and he elaborates, “I know it's a stupid thing to get sentimental about, but it's pretty much all I have of use to offer.”
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Alex stares at him for a painstaking 15 seconds--he counts--before nodding slowly. “He was incredibly sentimental about things like that.” She says softly. And Chris pretends like he can't see the tears threatening to spill.
He pats her gently on the back and opens his arms for a hug. It's a testament to how broken she feels that she takes the hug without any grumbling or dramatics.
“You'll be fine, we'll all be fine.” He coos.
“God, I hope so.” Her muffled reply echoes.
Viktor winces as the nurse wraps gauze tightly across his bruised knuckles. He glances at the indented wall across from him, and then at Erik's regrettably still pristine face, and calculates the seventeen different ways to break a blood oath. Rumored to be extremely painful, but in his case he suspects it would eventually be worth it.
The nurse is now giving him some strict instructions on how to maneuver getting his bandages wet, he bats her away with his bandaged fist, his other hand trying once again to pinch the headache out of his eyes.
Blinking to restore his vision, his gaze finally lands on Erik, who doesn't even have the good grace to look sorry. He is flipping through some magazine adorned with scantily clad women, the obnoxious sounds from his gum punctuating the silence in the room.
Erik snickers quietly to himself as his eyes settle on a particular page, the accompanying smack of his gum proving the final straw for Viktor who rises angrily from his seat and stalks towards him. Erik's eyes grow wide in fear as he attempts to scramble from the desk where he's perched.
“Now, now Viktor!” He is yanked to eye level by Viktor's good hand on his collar. “You promised, you promised Mom!” He cries petulantly.
“If I had known just how monumental of a burden you would become, I would have killed you and then killed her myself!” Viktor grits out, his breath puffing against his brother's scared face.
“I didn't know, okay! I didn't know they were in the no touch pile.”
“You were to find the tome, grab it and get out. How did--” He looks skyward for a moment, eyes coming back down. “Where did you even get a gun?”
Erik mutters something under his breath that Viktor doesn't catch, impressive as hell seeing as he's close enough to inventory every freckle on the half wit's face. “What was that?” He says.
“I got it from your desk.” Erik mumbles.
Viktor lets him drop to the ground with a thud, fists--yes including painfully, the bandaged one--lifting to pull on his hair. “You shot a Jordan, with a gun registered in my name?” He pivots to glare at his brother, who is brushing down his rumpled clothes.
On second thought, he was definitely going to kill the idiot, blood oath be damned.
His hand is on Erik's throat in seconds. Erik scrambles and knocks over something very ancient and expensive on his desk, but it doesn't matter. Viktor's nose and eyes are bleeding from the sheer force of his pushing against bound magick, but he doesn't care.
Strong arms pry him away from his now wheezing brother, who is gasping in as much air as his lungs can accommodate, while massaging his tender throat. The heavy clanging in Viktor's head seizes as he is pulled away from his murder attempt. His ears pop back open once he's a safe distance away from his unfortunate brother. Assuring his security of his calmness, he whips out a white handkerchief and wipes the blood from his face.
“Jesus Viktor, that really hurt.” Erik whines, inspecting the hand he had rubbing his sore throat. As if one could bleed from strangulation.
“Lock him up somewhere.” Viktor snarls at the burly men, who on observation had forced themselves into his office. “I don't care where, I don't even want to know. Just get him far away from me.” He instructs.
The men grab a protesting Erik and lug him out of the office. Viktor heaves a sigh, pacing to his desk, and leaning on it, arms astride. He was going to need a goddamn miracle to fix this.
