"You won't give me what I want, you won't tell me what I need to know, you won't give me the closure I deserve," his tremulous tone shook her like rag doll, "and you ask for my blessing?" Clarice quietly sat across from the socially estranged aristocrat, taken back by his disillusioned beliefs that she owed him anymore apologies than already issued, but it was that very silence that made him angrier.
"You got me f*cked up, Clarice." He laughed like a seal and it stirred her astray, pulling her out of her characteristic portrayal of an ice queen and plopped into the shoes of the innocent girl he once knew.
"YOU ruined me. YOU ruined my life," he screamed with an unbridled conviction, his parted hair mingling as his head shook back and forth with an unkempt rage, "I will not let YOU ruin our sons' life. Do YOU understand me? I won't allow it." He placed his palms over his face, breathing in deeply and exhaling through his the creases; his anxiety rising by the millisecond.
"I told myself I was done with this. With you, with Kurt, with it all." His fingertips slid down the skin between his eyebrows and before they left his Hollywood leading man face, they clung to his rosy cheeks as he thought thoughts that shan't be said.
"I'm a dad now," he managed to get out, "I have purpose. I'm together, I've pulled myself together, and there you are, back it again, pulling at my strings, and asking me to do things that I don't want to do." Noah appeared so disappointed in himself, because as much as he tried; Clarice wouldn't voluntarily admit to her hand in his predicament.
"You promised me, Clarice. You promised me things would change," He swallowed his fears as he adjusted his posture, hands now politely folded atop the wooden table. With that said, he went forth and respectfully declined her proposition.
"I'm not signing my parental rights away, Clarice. I thought you would have learned by now, but if you didn't know....he's OUR son. And as much as you hate to admit it....we loved each other once. Stop playing games and grow the hell up. That boy needs his dad and his mom. Show him you can be just that. Please Clarice, don't be the reason our son gets caught in the crossfire of whatever scheme you've got planned."
I don't like her. She's liked a spoiled container of sour cream hidden behind the vegetables in an unlit fridge. It smells like shit, but no can seem to find it cause it's hiding behind the goody goods and no one ever suspects the goody goods. I'd probably be okay with her if my dad didn't look so bothered every Friday morning before I left for the White House and elated every time I returned. He's always worried about me. I think he's afraid I'll turn out like her, but I'm not her. I'm not him. I'm Troy Addams and goddammit....
"I'd say you're a pimp looking at his next top hoe."I place a hand on my hip, disappointingly shaking my index finger, as I look into the eyes of my perplexing Vice President. I'm ashamed to have thought @_animus_ had class, because he chose me of all people to exploit. Or maybe I should be honored? Regardless this was exploitation and exploitation was a running gag in my line that needed to end.
"I'm not going to be used and discarded, Mister Newscastle. I'm worth so much more," I'm not going to lie, I've always wanted to be a hero, but this seems too good to be true. "I need to know what's up, because if what I'm thinking you're saying is true.....then I can be hero? A real hero?"