Break Downs Are More Fun...

Jack heard him mumbling on their trek across the room and she shook her head to get any loose strands of hair from blocking her hearing. She felt as though she were dealing with a sedated lion. He may be calm now, but at even the slightest hint of a growl, she would have no choice but to act quickly and get out of there.

But at first, it was all some sort of nonsense. She might have been able to figure out what he had meant if she were not so preoccupied, but at the moment, comments about perfection did not interest her greatly. They were probably just about his abundance of perfection or else her lack thereof.

He mumbled that he hated people and Jack was not totally sure if "her" meant herself, but she guessed that it probably did. All the faintest murmur of a growl...she could continue on and ignore that. He may just have been blowing out hot air.

Jack had to stop because a man and a woman blocked their way, both looking at them with sneering, rude expressions plastered on their face. They were doing this just to mess with Jack. Before anything else, Jack fumbled out her wand and pointed it at them, eyes flashing. "I am not in the mood. Move." Their eyes widened and they scooted out of the way, leaving the staircase that led to the upstairs open.

Vito said that he was not leaving. That was definitely a growl, a sudden red flag. She turned her head towards him and spoke in a calm, quiet voice. "We're not leaving, we're going upstairs."

Jack was just trying to get Vito up to his room, but the way the sentence was phrased made her cringe. Ah, great. If he remembered this night and remembered that sentence she would never hear the last of it. Hey, Jack. Remember the time you wanted to take me 'upstairs?' She would never be able to forget her less than choice wording.

But it did not matter now. She just needed to get him off the dance floor. She took the first step up the stairs, wincing as she did so. She shifted Vito's arm and continued on, finding it easier now. Good thing she had been Beating training all summer. It always gave her some added strength.

She continued up the stairs, stopping every once in awhile to adjust Vito as they walked, but soon they were in the hallway. She walked on until she reached the one she was pretty sure Vito lived in. It was the one where he had broke the mirror the last time she had been up here. She stumbled in, and panted, "Home sweet home, Vito."

During their journey climbing the staircase, Vito had stumbled and nearly fallen down the stairs several times, but after a long few minutes, Jack had finally managed to get Vito to the second floor of Satin’s. Walking down the hall was easy at that point, but the walls were the same as the stairs for Vito; everything was spinning rapidly around him, to the point where he was positive that he was going to cough up his entire stomach at any given second. He closed his eyes once more, but it didn’t help much; those little blue and green lights that dance beneath your eyelids were spinning as well, and those he could not escape. “Slow down…” he told them, not realizing at that moment that it was a rather unintelligent attempt.

This wasn’t the same Vito Dee Symons that ruled Knockturn Alley… that much was clear. What had happened to the real Vito, was unclear, though everyone would probably be better off with the drunk version instead, the real Vito wasn’t a pathetic mess, and that really was the perfect description of the wasted poltergeist stumbling towards his bed, smelling of multiple different poisons (alcohols).

Vito stood there for a moment, silent and still, waiting until the floor stopped moving around underneath his feet before he took another step towards his bed. “Where did you put my cigarette, Jack?!” he hissed after sitting down on the mattress, taking his shoes off. He leaned backwards and rested his head against one of the cool pillows, which felt rather soothing to his pounding skull. He looked up from where he was lying at the female who had assisted him, and smirked, “You know, when I’m gone I’ll miss that ugly face of yours,” his voice was quiet and sounded as if he had to force his throat to make each noise required to speak, but his smirk really did speak for him- along with those fierce eyes of his, which seemed quite cat-like even when he was smashed.

He brought his arms up and folded them underneath his head before crossing his ankles as well, “Satin’s too,” Vito added, though it was in more of a whisper, as if he hadn’t actually intended for anyone other than himself to hear his voice. His eyes were heavy, and his breathing was slow, but he kept his eyes opened so that he could glance at the mirror to see his image flickering in the reflective glass.

A low, enraged growl escaped his parted lips, but he was done talking for the time being.

Vito sat on the bed and managed to get his shoes off. Jack turned and walked over, closing the door so as to prevent any looky-loos from peeking in, trying to see the owner at one of his worst times. She then veered into the bathroom and found a washcloth and ran it under the sink, not exactly sure how to help a drunken poltergeist. Therefore, she decided she would treat him just like how she treated her mother when she was drunk.

She found a cup and filled it with water before rifling through her own knapsack. Luckily, she always carried aspirin or some sort of pain killer since she was always hurting herself or blasting out her eardrums until her head wanted to implode. She found some and grabbed two from the little bottle and carried the glass, pills, and washcloth.

He demanded to know what had happened to his cigarette the second she entered the room. Sighing and rolling her eyes ever so slightly, she said, "You probably dropped when you flopped over. Calm down, okay. Take this." She held out the pills and glass of water. She turned, about to go look through her nifty knapsack to see if there was anything else that could help out. He said he would miss her (well, her ugly face) when he was gone and she froze, straightening up.

She turned slowly. The insult had passed by her like nothing; she was used to Vito being rude to her. But he had said something about being gone? What did he mean? She walked over to the bed where he was stretched out, looking up at the ceiling and heard him same "and Satins."

So he was not just saying something to get an insult in. He was leaving or something? But that was not what he had said. He said he would be gone. Almost like when her parents said "yeah you'll miss me when I'm gone..." As in dead...But poltergeists didn't die. Did they? She turned a slightly concerned face onto Vito and said in a measured voice, "What do you mean 'when you are gone?'"

Without really giving it any thought, Vito took the glass of water from Jack in one hand, and the aspirin in the other; he was thankful to have a chance to stop the throbbing in his head, and so he did not refuse. Tilting his head back, he brought the cup to his lips and swallowed both the small pills and the water in one gulp. “Poltergeists only get so much time in one place, girlie,” the alcohol spoke for him; normally, he would have clung on to such information with his life, but at that moment, he really didn’t have any other choice but to allow it to leap from his tongue.

He turned his head so that one half of his face was against the soft pillow beneath his head, and breathed in the fabric softener scent slowly; Vito hadn’t actually slept in his bed since the excessive drinking had begun, and it did feel like quite a relief to finally allow himself to feel comfortable- or, for Jack to allow him to fell comfortable, for he certainly wouldn’t have made it up the stairs if he had tried to do so himself. Besides, he was stubborn, and he had had his mind set on wasting away in that booth of his downstairs. “and when I’m aloud to come back, I’ll be worth nothing,” he added in a voice that sounded more like a growl than his actual voice.

The man closed his eyes for a moment, one eyelid closing slower than the other, and rested both of his hands on his chest. “Show me the way to the next whisky bar. Oh, don't ask why. Oh, don't ask why,” Vito sung for the second time that evening, slurring his words together to the point where it was hardly even considered singing. He could taste alcohol on his tongue and it made his mouth water; “The best cure is the cause,” he spoke abruptly, though he didn’t expect anyone to reply or understand the words. He didn’t want the aspirin or the water, he just wanted more to drink, maybe a smoke or two, but he knew that he wasn’t going to get these things if Jack had her mind set on keeping him away from all of it.

“Mmmm, come here,” Vito spoke quietly, extending his harm and holding it out towards Jack. His eyes were closed, and he appeared as if he were sleeping, but it seemed that his head wanted to continue to frustrate him for a while longer, and so sleep did not take over him. He patted the bed beside him and scooted backwards slowly. “I won’t touch you, I swear,” Vito added, but his lips didn’t curl upward into his usual smirk- instead, his face remained blank, other than his forehead which was wrinkled slightly out of pain.

Jack stared at him, not understand what he was saying. Scratch that, she understood what he was saying. She just could not believe it. No matter how often she and Vito were at odds, it was hard to imagine how her life would be without the constant bickering and rivalries. Yeah, he had tried to kill her, but in a way she could trust the poltergeist more than the people she knew. At least she could expect those things out of Vito; with the people she usually associated herself with, she would not expect betrayal or whatever, making it much worse when it happened. And when it came to Vito and her, they usually pushed each other to the points where they had to react.

She was still letting that sink in and was actually finding a sadness settle onto her. Suddenly, her thoughts were cut short by Vito's bitterness as he said that once he came back he would be nothing. She looked at him and her expression morphed into a curios, soft one as she tried to read his expression. But he closed his eyes and began to sing and Jack glanced across the room.

What would it be like to just be ripped out of the life you have grown accustomed to and then plopped into a completely different one, having to restart and work your way back up to where you had been before? She could not even begin to comprehend how to handle that. Even with her simple, steady life, she had grown comfortable. And Vito had not only done that, but he had become a successful business owner and worked up a reputation. It could not be an easy thing to face.

He said the cure was the cause and Jack looked at him. Did he mean alcohol? Jack shook her head and said softly, "The best cure is some sleep and aspirin." She nodded slowly, as though to let it sink in and make it more effective.

Vito asked her to come closer to him. Jack opened her mouth to say a sarcastic comment, but slowly closed it as she registered the tone of his voice. It was soft, and not in his usual growl when he was trying to get something nor did he sound hostile...In fact, she could not remember Vito speaking like that to her. He said he swore not to touch her and she studied his face for a second, ready to pick up on even the slightest twitch of mouth or smirk or anything, and yet she saw nothing. Jack thought long and hard and could find no way he could around his words.

She slowly moved closer to him but paused and said, "Remember, I still have a wand and you are in no condition to aim a defensive spell." But her heart still ached for the poor guy who's life was soon going to be flipped upside down. She carefully sooted over until she was sitting next to him, next to the pillows. She glanced at him. He was still sitting there, eyes closed looking on the brink of sleep. She slid her legs back and leaned back until she was laying down. Her back, aching from their trek up the stairs, relaxed, releasing the aches and tension that had been building and she let out a sigh, closing her own eyes.

*Eight in the Morning*

Finally she began to answer, speaking slowly and in a measure voice, "Your job...is to hate. You were created in hate, and therefore you hate. The Death Eaters hate. That role is filled. And if you were created because someone was filed with hate...Well I don't want to make the same...decision."

Vito stirred in his sleep, his black heart thudding slowly beneath his ribcage, but there was an aching in it that made him feel as if he had been stabbed in the chest weeks before and was still recovering. He breathed in slowly and rolled over onto his right side, but he was somewhat surprised when he felt someone else in the bed with him. Vito opened his eyes and smirked at what he saw; Jack Dyllan was lying beside him in his bed, on the second floor of Satin’s. He tilted his head to the side and tried to remember what had happened the night before, because he certainly didn’t believe that they had had sex. He rubbed his face; his head was throbbing terribly, and a million thoughts were rushing into his mind with every pulse.

She sighed and slid around the bend in the booth until she could look at Vito, who was still lying on his back. "Vito, what happened to you? What are you doing?" She repeated, this time more firmly, as though he needed to answer right then.

The poltergeist pushed himself forward with his arm so that he was sitting up, and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes darting from the mirror on the other side of the room to Jack as he continued to remember too many things at once.

Vito pulled a lighter out of his pocket, his hands shaking due to the alcohol in his system, and ran his index finger over the switch quickly, watching as a flame formed at the mouth of the lighter. The man brought the flame to the cigarette he held loosely in-between his lips, and lit the end of it. Almost instantly, smoke begun dancing around Vito’s lips. He grinned coldly and inhaled the drug.

His heart sped up and he pushed himself up so that he was standing at the foot of his bed. The room spun around him as soon as he had climbed off of the mattress, but he managed to keep himself from falling to the floor.

Jack bit her lip and slid around the bend in the booth and then off of her seat, straightening out. She went over to Vito's side and knelt, squinting as she tried to look at him though the flickering vision. She grabbed his arm and pulled it around her shoulders, standing up. Luckily, Vito was sort of short and very fit so that he was not too heavy. She grunted, "Up we get," wondering if he was even still conscious.

Vito stumbled over to the bathroom door on the other side of the room, his stomach twisting in uncomfortable ways, “Damn it…” he muttered and yanked the wooden door open quickly, just barely making it to the toilet in time when vomit exploded from his mouth. He fell forward and gripped the toilet seat tightly until the skin of his knuckles was so white that it appeared as it would tear at any moment.

“Where did you put my cigarette, Jack?!” he hissed after sitting down on the mattress, taking his shoes off. He leaned backwards and rested his head against one of the cool pillows, which felt rather soothing to his pounding skull. He looked up from where he was lying at the female who had assisted him, and smirked, “You know, when I’m gone I’ll miss that ugly face of yours.”

Slowly the poltergeist got up off of the floor after a good five minuets with his face in the toilet. He pulled himself up on his feet with the edge of the sink and turned on the faucet. Cold water flowed from the metal pipe into the sink and escaped down the drain quickly, and for a moment, Vito only watched the liquid dance about the sink. He was angry with himself for revealing so much about himself- so many of his emotions- simply because he had felt the need to drink and smoke more than he should ever had. He had allowed his rival to see him at his worst, and it disgusted him. Vito slipped his hand into the stream of water and allowed it to wash over his hands and puddle in his palms before he brought it to his face to wash the vomit from his lips and his chin.

“Mmmm, come here,” Vito spoke quietly, extending his harm and holding it out towards Jack. His eyes were closed, and he appeared as if he were sleeping, but it seemed that his head wanted to continue to frustrate him for a while longer, and so sleep did not take over him. He patted the bed beside him and scooted backwards slowly. “I won’t touch you, I swear,” Vito added, but his lips didn’t curl upward into his usual smirk- instead, his face remained blank, other than his forehead which was wrinkled slightly out of pain.

“F*ck!” Vito growled and slammed his fists against his the counter around the marble sink, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Jack was trudging through the Forbidden Forest of Hogwarts, carrying a basket in her right arm. To the untrained eye, the treats inside looked like innocent sweets. But Jack knew they were in fact Fever Fudge, Nosebleed Nougats, and Puking Pastilles. She continued to schlepp along until a ricketty old house appeared. She slipped inside and walked out onto the dance floor of Satin's. There was the bed in the middle of the floor and she strode over to it, noticing a figure on the bed, with their blankets pulled up to their eyes. A voice said, "Come here. I won't touch you, I swear. I just want to see what sort of treats you have." She walked forward, and she saw an all to familiar smirk. The blankets fell and she saw Vito reach out a hand-

She jerked awake before she could see what the poltergeist had lunged at, the basket or her, and she heard a retching noise. For a second, she thought she was still dreaming and he had chose the basket...When she blinked and realized just exactly where she was. She blinked.

The memories of the night before rushed back to her. Finding Vito drunk off his arse, helping him to his room, and finding out about his oncoming deadline... She sat up straighter and jerked her head to the left, but saw an empty bed.

She had fallen asleep not only in the same room with the guy, but next to him? Had she completely gone insane? She brought a hand to her temple and rubbed it, as though hoping to massage some sense into her brain.

She heard a faucet running and Jack slipped off the bed, landing on her feet on the ground and pausing. Vito probably had a killer hang over and would be...grouchy. She suddenly heard him cuss and hit something and she closed her eyes. Hmm. Yes. Grouchy. She opened her eyes slowly and calmly made her way over to the bathroom, stopping in the doorway.

He was at the sink, letting the water run as he looked back at his reflection. He looked angry and sick at the same time. He was a little pale and Jack tried to ignore the fact that he had just been puking. She crossed her arms and said quietly, "How you feeling?"

“F*ck off…” Vito growled, narrowing his eyes at her reflection in the mirror when he saw her standing behind him. He really didn’t know what to do with so many thoughts swarming about his head, and so much anger building up inside of him. Some part of him just wanted to rid himself of the hatred when he vomited simply to save himself the trouble and the headache, but it wasn’t a possibility, and another part of him clung to that rage and chaos… it was who he was, and there really was no changing that.

“You freak, what made you think that I wanted your help!?” he shouted for the first time in his life; Vito Dee Symons never raised his voice, for he thought it rather unbecoming of him, and he enjoyed his quiet, mysterious voice much more, but at that moment, he couldn’t control himself, and when he realized that he had shouted at her, there was no changing it. “Get.Out,” he continued slowly, his every words dripping with venom. It was hard to tell if he was angry with himself for allowing himself to reveal so much to Jack, or if he was angry with her for having been there for him to speak his thoughts to, but there was no mistaking the darkness that glinted in his already darkly colored eyes.

Vito’s skin flickered slightly in the light before going back to normal as he stood there, breathing in deeply as if he could not get enough air into his lungs. He was trying his hardest to blame everything on Jack, but things kept coming back to him, forcing him to accept the fact that he had been the one to make the mistakes.

This realization only enraged him further.

“Did you think that you could get close to me? Did you really think for a moment that you could actually help me? I’m Vito Dee Symons you b!tch, I don’t need you! Hell, no one needs you, and no one ever will,” he hissed, turning around sharply to face the young female.

Jack sneered back bravely at Vito when he told her to F off, because she did not think he was doing much more than mouthing off like usual. She had walked in slightly, but now she stopped, facing him, her eyes meeting his own via the reflection of the mirror.

But suddenly, he yelled out her. Her eyes widened and she reeled her head slightly. She did not even register that he had told her to get out, she was too off guard by him raising his voice and calling her a freak. For some reason, that jab hurt. Possibly because if anyone were to get the things that most people considered freak-like- her rude demeanor, her pride, her pranking- it would be Vito, since those were their commonalities.

“Did you think that you could get close to me? Did you really think for a moment that you could actually help me? I’m Vito Dee Symons you B****, I don’t need you! Hell, no one needs you, and no one ever will." He turned around and Jack stepped back without thinking, her back hitting a wall.

And for once, the very short girl felt rather small indeed. Obviously, she had always been less than average height, but she had always regarded herself highly and had never let that come in her way. She had a skill at bringing people to her level and making herself feel or look better than her stature might suggest.

But she felt very small and insignificant under Vito's gaze, and rather exposed. Did she think she could get close to him? Honestly, she had been thinking she was. Did she think she could help him? That was what she was doing, or so she had thought.

But what was worse, she had thought that he had needed her and she felt her eyes sting as she looked back at him. "I-I..." She closed her mouth. She never stuttered. Jack always knew what to say. But now her world was shrinking and crashing down around her. She gathered her resolve and said in a small voice that was supposed to be strong, "Th-that's not true. You needed me yesterday."

There it was; that fear in Jack’s eyes that Vito had longed to see for so very long. He closed his eyes for a moment, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head as he savored the pleasure it brought him to finally feel as if he had hurt her for that moment. He stood like that for a few minutes, breathing slowly, despite the rage that had lit his lungs on fire- until the pleasure vanished once more and he was left with nothing but hatred, shame, and a deep fear that had been harboring inside of him for weeks. “Your wrong. I didn’t need you, I needed alcohol. I needed to get drunk, so really all you did was take that momentary contentment and relief away from me,” the poltergeist corrected her harshly.

He had no clue what damage he was most likely doing to the girl, but had he, it probably would have only fueled him further, because he was sick, and twisted- that he knew, oh yes, he knew that he was a creep and that he could never achieve perfection… those facts had been part of the reason he had felt the need to drink excessively. But when the alcohol was taken away and he was sober once more, those thoughts came back, and that fear of being ripped out of his own life once again settled in… it really was breaking Vito down, even if he managed to make it look like nothing at all.

Vito stepped towards the young female so that their faces were inches apart, his warm breath which smelt strongly of alcohol washing over her face, “Leave me alone, Jack. Stop clinging to me simply because you don’t have anyone else to trust; I’m sick of it,” he spoke, though that time around his voice was eerily calm and dark, it wasn’t any less threatening than his shouted words had been. He looked directly into Jack’s eyes, wondering what sort of reaction he would see in them next.

His brain throbbed painfully beneath his skull, and anther handful of memories from the night before took over- and they couldn’t have come at a worse time.

Jack turned and walked over, closing the door so as to prevent any looky-loos from peeking in, trying to see the owner at one of his worst times. She then veered into the bathroom and found a washcloth and ran it under the sink, not exactly sure how to help a drunken poltergeist. Therefore, she decided she would treat him just like how she treated her mother when she was drunk.

She found a cup and filled it with water before rifling through her own knapsack. Luckily, she always carried aspirin or some sort of pain killer since she was always hurting herself or blasting out her eardrums until her head wanted to implode. She found some and grabbed two from the little bottle and carried the glass, pills, and washcloth.

Vito stepped around Jack and walked back into his bedroom, rubbing his face as he did. Jack had probably saved his reputation, and she had certainly helped him, he had known so when he had told her that she hadn’t, but remembering it all was like a blow to the head, because it reminded him that he really had needed her that evening. He contemplated turning back around to face her, but he couldn’t get his legs to obey him.

Besides... what was there for him to say?