Spilt Milk


abby5_icon.gif ethan_icon.gif

Scene Title Spilt Milk
Synopsis Breakfast is served where Zhukovskey is keeping Abigail by none other than Ethan.
Date December 15, 2009

A cold stone cell, somewhere in Russia

It's a simple cell really, could be worse. Could be a shipping container with an electrified fence in a cold warehouse that leaves nothing to shield from the cold. Here at least, Abby is treated to a hot meal of stew and bread, someone's seen fit to give her a blanket so she doesn't freeze and no ones seen fit to drag her out and otherwise torture her. As far as imprisonment and kidnapping, it doesn't meet up with Jessica's but far surpasses Logan and Muldoons. Far surpasses.

Morning brings with it sunshine through the window, a folded blanket on the stone and wood slab built over the stone outcropping on the very monastic cell and Abigail's parked in the corner, legs crossed, eyes closed. Someone will come soon with food and a fresh bucket, if she's lucky. For now, the brunette's hands rest on her knee's as she quietly meditates like Xiulan taught her. Easier to focus and keep her mind off of any impending conversation or the help tamp the anxiety that Muldoon brings about in her.
It has been nice so far, hasn't it?

The treatment of Abby hasn't been that severe thus far, 'Muldoon' must be a nice guy right now. Or an apathetic guy. Whatever! Whatever he is, he certainly doesn't have control over Abby's next guest. Because Abby's next guest is mean. Really mean. :(

The door swings open rather violently to admit the rather violent man. Filling the gap of the door is no Muldoon, neither it is Logan. It's Jess— Ethan. Taking a step in from the shadow, one foot links out to close the door behind him. The tray is held in both hands, hot oatmeal and a glass of milk. The oatmeal suffering from a very bad job of sugar pouring or Ethan just spat in it. Whichever one seems more likely. As the door crashes closed behind him, the man tilts his head down a dark smirk forming up at his lips.

"Ello. 'Ungry?"

One eye opens at the door meeting Ethan, unconsciously flinching from the unnecessary violence done to the poor inert object. Surprise registers in the rise of blonde brows when it's Ethan who comes in the door, followed by a scowl. She doesn't make a move from her corner though her fingers inwardly creak, digging into her thigh.

"Obviously. Poison it?"

A light smile forms up at Ethan's lips, "Abigail." He says as if an adult, talking to a child. "I feel like we don't even know each other. You see me in one place, and just assume I'm an ass'ole 'oo insults the shit out of people 'e doesn't like." His grip tightens on the tray. "I feel like you're missing out on a 'ole wonderful side of me. And it makes me sad that you miss out on that. So I thought I would bring you your food so you could see the side of me you don't normally get to." He bows his head slightly as he reaches to take the bowl of oatmeal, and looks at it for a long moment contemplatively. And then it is hurled mightily into the wall directly behind Abigail, the tray and glass abandoned to the ground.

"'ere I get to be the boy daddy raised. The boy 'oo will cut your tongue off for talking too much." He smiles lightly. "It's nice to meet you."

She's going to need a bath, wash her hair since she was parked in a corner when he heaves the bowl and it's contents causing her to duck and hold her breath. Dregs of oatmeal drip onto her hands and hair, ceramic breaking off into pieces and fall on either side as she hunched under hands, eyes closed tight. It's that damned room with Logan all over again and her hearts suddenly leaping up and lodging itself in her throat.

Probably the same fear that led to her bravely ganking the pimp with the plastic modified utensil that makes the brunette - albeit yes, huddled - mouthing off to the wolf.

"Sorry, Logan already did the tongue thing, you'll have to think of something else. Though oatmeal is good for the hair, makes it shiny. Thanks for that"

Taking up the tray in both hands, Ethan rolls his eyes as he takes a step forward. Bringing it up over his shoulder he swings down powerfully at the brunette ex-healer's head. Swinging through with momentum, sure to cause a headache or eight in the coming days, Ethan then hurls the tray to the other end of the room. Taking a strong head forward, leaning in to press his hands on his knees as he leans over her. "God. That's good stress relief. Sorry ol' girl I've just been bottlin' it and bottlin' it and I just 'ad to let it out on something. I 'ope I didn't break anything."

Going to stand once again, Ethan smiles lightly. "You can't 'eal this time, can you? I've got a knife. So see 'ow far you can push your luck, bitch. Just try it."

And now, in a way, it's time to think of Deckard as pain blossoms across her face and spreads through her head. The sound that comes from the younger woman is likely one that any red blooded man - who wasn't Ethan, or a bad guy - would not want to hear from a female. There's a bleeding cut in the back of her mouth from her teeth and she's sure she might need a dentist when, if, she makes it out of here and home.

"Asshole" She manages, bringing the back of a hand to her mouth. "Do this to Eileen? Do the others know your-" A glance down to her hand incites even more panic. "Playing patty cakes with Zhukovsky?" Back to her corner she tries to make it, and a piece of that ceramic broken from the bowl.


It sounds incredulous as one boot lifts up and slams down on Abby's ankle to hinder any progress she may be making towards any makeshift weapons. "Is that really what you're trying to do?" The boot grinds a little on her ankle, before he shifts all of his weight onto that foot so that he can deliver a kick to her stomach which will hopefully make her give up on the whole bowl-knife plan. Once his kick is delivered he takes a step back. Peering down at her. "Of course I do, every night right before I force 'er to give me a rub and tug." He narrows his eyes somewhat and then grins lightly.

"Abigail." It sounds somewhat chiding. "Are you trying to sound like me? Because really, I'm flattered. Though you probably don't 'ave the chest 'air to pull off my look." Ethan calculates, tilting his head lightly and scrubbing at his chin as if to determine how much chest hair Abby does have. Finally he decides it simply can't be done. "No they don't know I'm playing patty cake. But they might be suspicious of me playin' four corners, and lawn darts with ol' Grigori. I'm also pretty fuckin' sure they're clueless to our hopscotch matches. But y'never know. I could be wrong."

People outside the cell are being entertained - if they enjoy that sort of thing - with the range of Abigail's voice as she lets loose a scream when Ethan's foot comes down on her ankle and grinds, before it's abruptly stopped with the swift kick to her midriff that curtails any attempt for the bowl shard. It's become not worth the beating she's taking at the Fenrir's hand and she double's up with tears sliding over bottom eyelids, curling up to protect her head, ringing ears, middle and knee's bent up without a care to how her ankle doesn't like that.

Makes one wonder just who Skoll is and how much worse he'd be. "Wish I'd never healed you" Yelled wetly at the man. "God help you if they find out. Go die in a corner, do you hear me!"

Taking a step forward, Ethan bends over. Grabbing Abigail by her hair, Ethan uses one arm to powerfully pull upwards on a handful of tangled hair he manages to purchase. "Listen you retarded bitch." Comes the growling from the man as he nears her. "If I wanted to die." The rumbling starts, as he tries to jerk the woman onto her hands and knees. "It would be in the middle of the room." And with that, Ethan is going to straddle her back, his free hand quickly loosing a knife from his boot. His other hand gripping her hair tightly. Lowering himself over her, the edge of the knife swings around to hover in front of Abby's neck.

A sadistic smirk grows up Ethan's lips as he leans in closely, looking as if he might be ready to do things of a particular rapey nature to the young woman. Lips curled back, teeth bared, his mouth hovers an inch from her ear. His warm breath splashing against the side of her head. In that moment the knife comes dangerously close to her neck, in hopes of making her scream. At the same moment he stomps on the ground and lets out a loud roar. Perhaps to disguise the whisper that flows under his breath quite quickly afterward.

"Inside the tray. Hide it."

Death is coming. Death is coming and Abigail's frantic movements to get away from Ethan when he straddles her back and bends her upwards, to back out and under from him once again finds a quick stop with the knife pressed to her throat and back bent to accommodate him and his needs.

"Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be they name" It's rasped out soggily, voice high and pitched with terror. It's slightly more than Logan managed to get out of her when she was in his loving care. "They kingdom come, thine will be do-" She almost misses what he whispers in her ear from the scream that he does indeed manage to rip from her. It makes pale eyelids fly open and look off at the wall through saline swimming blue eyes."

"You do 'ave a defect." Her hair is released, as the knife is put away safely back into the boot. A final shove is given to the woman to knock her to the ground as he goes to stand fully. Taking a single step back, he narrows his eyes lightly, shaking his head. "You're fucking pathetic." With that, the Wolf takes a step back, and goes to open the door. It is promptly closed, as the cold merciless sound of the lock clanks through it. And then Abby is alone, with a tray, a broken bowl of oatmeal, and spilled milk.

She shouldn't have gone to Caliban's. Not for the first time has it crossed her mind that she shouldn't have taken the car to get information about Muldoon from Caliban. The sobs don't end with Ethan's last shove and cruel action but she does at least crawl over towards the tray, spitting more blood from out of her mouth and towards the side.

The oatmeal is not going to be touched, not so desperate for food as to eat it off the floor. But for whatever it is in the tray, she tries to find it, look at it for all the good it'll do. The thought that it's a joke, a trick and that Ethan really needs to burn in hell for what he's done is firmly in the front of her mind along with the nerves that scream and demand attention from various points in her body.

But there's a note. A note that's tucked away tills he's dragged herself up to the outcropping with wood top that serves as her bed, and curls up on the blanket there, back to the door as she tries to concentrate and get through reading it. Where she's going to hide it, damned if she knows, but she'll try.


sorry if I beat you up too much jklol so you got caught. surprise! dont worry i wont let you get dead. just keep pretending like you hate the whole world and i will somehow take care of you. just no more jokes ok pls. i left pencil in left lip of tray. write anything you want to say to team and then slide back into tray and clap shut i will take back to team and try to figure how to get u out of here withot g knowing kk. have a good slp.//

A stick figure of a smiley man with a thumbs up is drawn next to the writing. Should Abby investigate the tray, she will indeed find a pencil, nearly a nub in the lip of the tray. And a blank side of the paper.

First thought?

Someone needs to go back to school. Grammar.

The second is that this is a cruel joke. Somehow take care of her. The tray isn't further investigated for the pencil nub promised in the note. On some small sliver of a level in her mind there's faint belief - faint - that this isn't a joke or some kind of trap or some kind of cruel sick prank.

The rest of her. The rest of her doesn't trust the man further than she can see and with her eyes closed, she can't see. The note is folded, slid between wall and wood out of sight, a better spot to be found later as she gives in to the pain that Ethan's left her with and sobs.

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