Vengeance [Iran/Public]

Did they expect Arash to preform with his broken face? Yes, they did. They figured that having a broken nose did not impede on his ability. Arash begged to differ, and gave them some bullshitted explanation on why his nose was so instrumental to his technique. They didn't believe him. Arash was bitter about that. Fortunatly, he got to go on after the asshole that broke his face for no reason. Arash had plans for him.

They were both behind the stage, both getting ready. Arash refused to speak to the man until he apologized, and the man did not apologize. There really was no choice but to sabotage him. Arash was going to make him suffer. He was going to attack the man's pride, just as he had done to Arash- no, no, Arash was going to make him hurt even more.

Cosim did not know it, but the water he had been drinking was not just water. Arash had been slipping some sort of muscle relaxant in, high quantities of it. He “borrowed” it from the man who fixed his broken nose.

Arash looked into the mirror while applying the makeup onto his burns and bruises. He ever so often gave quick glares to the Russian man. The man was drinking the water that Arash had laced. Good. This cup got a dangerously high dose.

He heard them introduce Golem. The Russian man was gone. Arash could not hide a smile.

He would get his revenge.

((Alsooo got babby's permission for this. :l))

He wasn't going to apologize for what was a normal reaction. What he did was as normal to him as jumping when surprised or laughing at something comical.

Even still, Cosim couldn't help but be wary of the way the Arab-- well, whoever he was, was looking at him. He tried his best to ignore it as he finished the water and downed a swig of some unknown alcohol before going to the stage, like he usually did.

Things were going well all throughout, save that he felt more tired than usual. Nothing to report on, really. He felt like he could even do the finale again, and again six women were brought to the stage. His vision swam for a moment just before he hoisted up the bar, but that was no problem. Until it was all the way in the air.

And all of a sudden he saw double, triple.... the ground felt like it gave way beneath him as he felt as though he suddenly had no muscle at all. He saw the bar falling from his arms, and the people on it falling fast to the ground, but none of it registered in his mind. Because he was falling, himself, vision going first white, then black, fast, and the Golem was felled, the man hitting the stage edge before thudding into the recess between the raised stage and the seats.

There was the sound of a few women screaming. A thud, another thud. Then a wave of silence spread through the crowd. Arash was watching the mess through the curtains. The others backstage seemed shocked, they were all horrified. Arash did not. The grin on his face was larger than ever. Arash was not a happy person, but now- now he was euphoric.

Arash knew he wasn't supposed to hurt girls. He tried not to... but this wasn't his fault. It was Zahorchak's fault for getting to the point where he was supposed to lift up girls. Arash oddly felt no remorse for what happened to the screaming and injured girls. He obviously felt nothing for Zahorchak except complete schadenfreude. The joy he felt for the man's injuries overlooked the more minor injuries the girls probably felt. Anyways, they didn't matter. It wasn't like Arash knew them.

People from backstage were scurrying out to help the man. Arash backed away. A few rushed the fallen Golem back. Arash snickered. There would be some delay before he was up. He peeked out onto the stage, again. They had to clear everything up. The introducer stalled for time. The girls were rushed away.

The show would go on, Arash was called up. He walked out to the stage. The audience had no idea that Arash was behind any of this. Nobody did. Zahorchak was a moron. He wouldn't figure it out.

((idk if I should reply to this, but... Whatevs XD))

Slowly his eyes opened, and the first thing he noticed was the throbbing pain in his head, and the half-numbness of his body. He had no dea what happened. He was lifting, and--

The women on it. He bolted up, but was pushed down, reassured everyone was alright. But was his show ruined? Would he be kicked out? Again the hammering in his skull pushed out those thoughts.

This couldn't have been coincidence. He felt as if he would vomit. It must have been something he ate. But what did he eat, besides water? Cosim couldn't remember. He searched the room with dizzy eyes, trying to find a familiar face.

((Lmaooo idk how to respond, so I will just wait for somebody to jump in. :l ))

((OH, HELLO THERE--))

Itakshir was one of those behind the sets who was horrified. Ironically, while Arash was showing a rare smile, the Ainu was showing a rare lack of a smile. He just looked shocked.

He was about to turn to the Iranian to ask him what was going on, but he was already walking onto the stage for his own act. Itakshir would have to perform soon, too, but...he wanted to see what was wrong with his friend. Rushing over, he crouched down and addressed him in Russian, "What happened, man? Are you okay?" Obviously, he wasn't okay. But he was too concerned to really be putting much thought into the wording of said concerns.

To the Ainu's point of view, it didn't seem like anything was wrong with the man to make him lose his strength like that so suddenly, so the probable explanation was evil magic. It crossed his mind that this could be the work of a wenpekur--a malicious person who wished bad luck on others. This was why everyone ought to be using false names, like he did. So that the negative energy couldn't do them harm.

((lol, this is why I contemplated apping Houston. So that when the unavoidable injuries crop up, I won't feel useless. /shot))

He could see the outside from the split in the tent. It seemed to be way past evening. He wondered how long he'd been... He didn't even know. Been out. That was the simplest term.

It was good that he heard Russian first, otherwise he wouldn't have the capacity to translate anything. Was he alright? "I'm alive," He finally mumbled, because he couldn't say much else about it. "I dont know what happened--" He still looked too confused, trying to recall the events himself. "I dropped the... The girls... They're..."

Arash had finished his performance, and the audience mostly forgot about Cosim. They showered him with applause when he marked the end of his show by jumping into that barrel of water, to set the fire out. Zahorchak didn't get the applause. Arash seemed happier than ever. Zahorchak messed up, Arash didn't. The barrel was wheeled backstage, and with it, Arash was. There was a state of silent panic out back. Everyone was worried about Zahorchak. Arash didn't bother to even seem concerned.

The attention the guy was getting was way too much. Arash's mother wasn't even there to hand Arash a towel and tell him how wonderful he was. No, she was also busy worrying about Zahorchak.

Why did anybody even care?

Arash sat down away from the busy room the man was hustled off to.

It seemed really serious...

Even Itakshir was worried.

Arash frowned. What did he do to the man? He couldn't have killed him. If he killed the man... what would that do to the carnival...? What would that mean for Arash? For Arash's mother...? For his brother..? The man couldn't be dead... Arash had no idea how strong the drug was. He didn't know that the dosage he gave Zahorchak would have been enough to probably kill a smaller man...

He went up, and took a peek in to the room. He didn't mean to cause the man that much harm....The doctor knew his muscle relaxants were missing. He also knew that Arash was his last patient. Hopefully he would not figure out.

Itakshir opened his mouth to reply, but was ushered out of the way by the local doctor, who, despite looking highly-stressed, responded to the Golem's concerns calmly, "The girls are fine; minor injuries. Try not to talk much..." He wouldn't say it, because it was never a good idea to get the patient upset, but the one Cosim should be worried about right now was himself.

Setting down his bag of equipment, he pulled out a steely-looking stethoscope and shushed everyone so that he could actually hear the faint heartbeat. There was a pause. If this was a soap opera, it might have been called 'dramatic tension'.

Thump...................... Thump..........................

Hypotension. He'd suspected as much. And it was not just a mild case of low blood pressure, either; then there was a very real chance of cardiac arrest here. God damn it, why did they make him attend to the customers first when this was clearly a much more serious problem?

Allen suspected some very foul play here. He did not even have to use his newfound gift of probing people's organs to recognize what this was. Something so unexpected of this magnitude was no accident, this man had obviously been heavily drugged--and that Cyclobenzaprine that had been stolen from him was the most probable culprit.

But that was all in the back of his mind. Before pointing fingers, the first and foremost concern was with saving this man's life. The heart was a muscle. The body's most important muscle. Relaxing it through overdose never produced good outcomes. Through the stethoscope, he could hear the beating rapidly getting fainter, and he knew that they were losing him. The initial faint may have already been over, but it was just the precursor to Cosim slipping away a second time...and not coming back. He needed to act quickly.

Practically ripping his bag open again, he pulled out a small defibrillator and pretended to turn it on, shouting at everyone crowding around to step back and give him some room. In reality, the defibrillator didn't work anymore, but that was okay. He didn't need it.

Using a pair of surgical scissors, he cut the man's shirt open and rubbed the two metal plates together (more for show, because everyone thought that was how defibrillators always worked) before pressing them into two different places near the heart. No one would notice that one of his fingers had slipped off of the plastic handles to brush against the skin. Instead of using artificial electricity from the useless machine, he utilized the natural electrical conduction system within the heart and the body itself.

A series of jarring shocks hammered Cosim in the heart, reminding it to move, that it had a job to do.

After repeating this several times, he pulled the plates away and put two fingers to the neck as a hushed, horrified silence hung over the group. Exhaling with relief, he declared, "Alive. He's okay now." Of course, he'd require some treatment afterwards, but the initial threat was over. And he was a strong man (literally), so he'd be back to normal, with time.

Sitting back, exhausted, nerves shot, he wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead. He was used to having an entire team of trained professionals backing him up when things like this happened, but alone...he honestly hadn't been entirely sure if he could do it. Which was why he kept his strange powers a secret--they were so subtle that it was easy to cover up like this, anyways. But there was no need for people to have the impression that he could perform miracles or raise the dead or what have you.

((Good thing Allen is the world's #1 heart surgeon. B) ...I learn so much about medical care through these rps. SHOULDA BEEN A DOCTOR. :I))

Suddenly he was weightless, images appearing in his mind in between the echoes from why he assumed was his failing heart. The images confused him, but somehow the expressions were so familiar, almost like he knew the feelings of the people who owned them.

A boy behind a fence, emaciated, covered in typhus rashes, dead in the eyes.

A grinning man, saluting something unknown, a sense of growth and change, of happiness.

A man tossed into insanity as all that he loved crumbled around him.

Then a sudden jolt and all the images disappeared. Light invaded his vision as a shuddering jolt went through his whole being. He was aware the he must have been about to die-- how? Something he ingested, most likely, and at that moment, the jolt caused him to finally vomit, and he quickly did so over the side of where he was resting.

Cosim soon realized that someone must have saved him, and he looked up, still seeing double as he clarified it was the medic. "...Thanks..." was all he could muster.

While the doctor worked his magic (no pun intended), Itakshir looked around and realized that someone was not here. Sonya. She was probably sitting alone in the women's quarters, wondering what was going on and why everyone was gone. Cosim and the girl were close--she would want to be there, most likely.

Rushing out the door, and accidentally bumping into Arash's shoulder, he glanced back at him in surprise as he continued to run without stopping. Arash hated Cosim, didn't he? Itakshir found it somewhat admirable that the Iranian was showing some concern for a man he didn't like. (Oh, if only he knew.)

But there was no time for being heartwarmed. He rushed off to fetch Sonya.

--

Allen just nodded to the thanks, equally as burned-out. But he had no time to rest. The vomiting was a good thing (even if the previously-relieved crowd jumped back in disgust, and someone was forced to go get a mop to clean it up); it meant his body was purging itself of the drug. But it was certain that traces would still remain, if the dosage had been enough to potentially kill him.

Putting on his stethoscope again, he listened to the patient's heartbeat, eyes closed, while pressing two fingers to his wrist with his free hand. This would work better if he could make contact somewhere on the head--closer to the brain--but a wrist would have to do for now.

When he shifted through brain matter (or any part of the internal body, really), he never saw it in his mind's eye as a clear picture, or anything of that sort. He just had a feeling. It was like working in the dark, but with a perfect sense of what he was doing. Right now, he was sending impulses to release chemicals into the bloodstream... To counteract the remaining hypotension, to alleviate the pain, to counteract the after-effects of fainting, etc. The 'healing touch' could only go so far, though, and he was hesitant to push the body too much after such a traumatizing experience. So he allowed the natural flow of the bloodstream to do the rest, in delivering the chemicals where they needed to be.

Opening his eyes, he looked down at the patient and removed the stethoscope, "Try to rest. I'll be back to check up on you." Putting his equipment away, he gestured for everyone to leave so that his patient could sleep. As everyone filed out, with Allen the last one to go, Itakshir returned at a near-sprint, dragging a terrified-looking Sofia after him.

Catching his breath, he stopped the young doctor before he could close the door, and explained to him under his breath about the blind girl. Deliberating for a moment, he relented and nodded, holding the door open for them. The Ainu led in the blind girl to the side of the bed, only staying long enough to give the Transnistrian a thumbs-up (for what? Still being alive?) and a worried smile before closing the door behind him.

Sofia felt like she was approaching a casket, unsure of who was inside. Itakshir had given her a very rushed explanation...one which she wasn't sure she wanted to believe. It hadn't made sense in some places, and was full of holes, but she caught the general gist of it: that Cosim was dying, had nearly died, or was dead.

Face already half-soaked with tears, she found his hand and held it in two of hers, managing to choke out a fearful, "C...Cosim...?"

--

Allen was walking away from the room, with the white-haired guy right on his heels with questioning. What happened? What kind of black magic was it? Was it a wenpekur? He didn't know how to answer any of these--anyone who still believed that 'black magic' could cause illness these days was probably beyond having anything scientifically explained to them. Not in brief terms, anyways, and the Houstonian was too tired for anything lengthier.

He was about to give some kind of excuse to get the bear-trainer to leave him in peace, when he caught the Iranian out of the corner of his eye.

Of course, he couldn't say for certain who he was most suspicious of in the crime of stealing his medicine and using it to poison someone...but this man was definitely a suspect, by default. Addressing his most recent patient, he tried to keep his voice even (though if it wasn't, he could easily attribute it to shot nerves), "How's your nose healing up? Any pain? Swelling?"

Cosim wasn't sure what the man was doing when he paused for a while at the man's wrist, but hey-- he wasn't the doctor. But... the guy looked way too young to be saving anyone's life.

Still, the Golem reflected that it was probably the first time he had ever visited any semblance of a doctor.

Get some rest? Definitely. This whole event was cutting into his after-show day and a half of sleep. He was just about to do that when Itakshir brought in Sonya. He tried to scowl as the man left but he wasnt sure the signals were getting to his face, he was so exhausted.

The last thing he wanted was for her to see-- well, hear him like this. He could barely speak, as it is, and she was crying. What was he supposed to say? "Hey, Sonechka," He greeted raspily, his throat still burning with acid. He attempted to squeeze one of her hands but he was almost too weak. "Sorry I couldn't find you after the show." As if he was at fault for being late for walking with her in the evening. He did promise her always, after all.

Arash was not part of the crowd around Cosim. He was somewhere on the outskirts of the crowd. He was still watching. He hated the man, but he was perhaps more horrified than everyone else. He didn't mean to kill the man. He never killed anyone. He ocassionally had dreams of killing others- , of being in charge, of hanging them, of torturing them, of shooting them, of oppressing them. All in the name of something...He didn't know where these dreams came from, but they were horrifying. Arash never wanted to be the man he was in these nightmares. This was scary. In the name of revenge, Arash was no worse of that figure of authority in his dreams. This doctor was a good doctor. He saved him, and Arash felt some comfort in that.

Itakshir bumped into him. Arash was too stunned to respond.

The doctor was done. Everyone was rushed out. Arash was too. He didn't want to be near the man, anymore. He was about to leave-

Then the doctor found him. Arash seemed uncomfortable. Arash always liked the doctor. He didn't know why, but there was something about the man that warranted Arash's admiration. Arash knew him pretty well. Having not mastered his ability quite yet, Arash met with the man a lot. (The man was also a doctor, and because of that had easy access to Opium. Arash spoke to him about that too.)

"My nose-?" He muttered, rubbing what was being referred to. He didn't want to look the doctor in the eyes, he did anyways. Arash couldn't afford to seem too guilty. "It...It still hurts pretty bad... I just need some more Opium for that..." He requested the drug a lot. Most of his ailments were made up.

"...Is Zahorchak...okay...?" He didn't know if he should have asked about Zahorchak. Would it seem too obvious if he did? Everyone was probably asking about that. But wouldn't it be more obvious that the attempted murderer also ask?

((Hurrr I'm not sure when Opium became officially illegal for drug stuff- but this is the 30s nobody does legal things. :l ))

Was this the same person? She recognized the hand, but not the grip. She recognized the greeting, but not the voice. A surge of highly implausible hope spread through her that somehow, some way, this was not Cosim at all. She herself knew that couldn't possibly be the case, but the idea just wouldn't go away once it came.

There was only one way to know for sure.

Releasing his fingers, she traced her way up to his face, trembling fingers finding the ridge of his nose. Realizing that yes, it was unquestionably him, her quiet weeping broke into shuddering sobs. This situation felt like something she'd been through before. ...In a past life, maybe. A life she didn't remember but knew she had experienced.

And she was sure that, at that time, it had ended badly. She'd lost someone. Someone she cared for deeply.

Hiccuping, she attempted to mop her eyes up with her sleeves, frantic with an emotion that she only half-understood. Finding his face again, she held it, and--guiding herself by putting a thumb to his lips--leaned over to kiss him.

----

He wasn't entirely sure if he believed that the once-broken nose was still hurting. Granted, he himself had asked if it was, but... Arash had a habit of asking for opium, it seemed. Allen wasn't a fool, he could sense an addiction when it was in front of him.

But what could he do? If he prescribed it, he was an enabler. But if he didn't, then he could be accused of breaking the Hippocratic oath by refusing to alleviate his patient's pain. If he administered some kind of sugar pill on the grounds that the Iranian was being a hypochondriac, then Arash could find an excuse to say that--no, this pill wouldn't work. Only opium. He was damned if he did, damned if he didn't. Perhaps he should just confront him outright about the drug abuse.

(And he did want to. There were certain people that, despite how much he tried to not show it, he felt the need to assist. It was usually the poor, the needy, the downtrodden. Those who had come from hard times. Well, they all lived in hard times now, so why was it still only select people that sparked his personal concern?)

But in the meantime (as usual), there was something else to attend to first on his list of priorities.

"Maybe I should look at it? It would be bad if it's healing the wrong way--" He was already ushering Arash to a place where he could sit down and be examined. He was an American, and from a big city to boot; he didn't waste any time when there were things to be done.

Adjusting his glasses, he peered closely at his nose, prodding it in places lightly as he spoke absently, "He should be fine...we almost lost him, though. Even strong men aren't immune to death, you know?" Poking the bridge of Arash's nose rather forcefully, he added, "Let me know if you feel any pain."

((I'm pretty sure Allen's whole practice right now isn't legal, so w/e man.))

Seeing her cry was the most heartbreaking thing for him. Especially when it became full-on sobbing, and there was nothing he could do about it. "No, Sonya, I'll be fine, don't cry--"

He was silenced when she kissed him. Did she mean to kiss his cheek? Probably not. Was it just pity? Probably not. His heart beat faster, which was a good thing to hear, but there was some emotion he couldn't put his finger on. Loss, maybe. And it felt familiar. But he shrugged it off, with no idea she was transferring it to him.

Cosim stroked her hair as the kiss was broken, actually smiling for once in the whole ordeal. "I'm not going to die, Sofia, you didn't have to give me a last request." what did Itakshir tell her anyways? That he was about to die?

But... If this happened after he was in a serious complication, then maybe he should do them more often. Problem was, he still had no idea what happened to him this time.

Arash didn't really want to be examined. He actually really did not want to be near the doctor right now. Arash was a good liar, but even he was bound to have a slip up sometime. Or just say something that would lead to the doctor knowing that, yes, Arash stole his medicine and yes, Arash was the one who almost killed the strongman.

The doctor rushed Arash over somewhere to look at his nose so quickly. Then he was poking at Arash's nose, before Arash could even do anything.

"Even strong men aren't immune to death, you know?"

Arash gave a silent nod. He knew that. He just didn't realize... how much of those pills could actually kill a man. But- Zahorchak didn't die, so it was okay.

"Ow-" Arash muttered after the one foreceful jab. He really did not want to be examined anymore, so he jumped up. "I think it's healing fine. It just hurts a bit- and the other bruises too. But that's because the injuries are so new, right? I'll just take Opium when it hurts really bad. Just to recover. That will be all good."

((FINALLY THE GIFTS FROM GOD ARE GONE-- Goddamn Irani guests. :I /gunned down))

Sofia couldn't see his smile, of course, but she could feel the edges of his mouth tugging upwards as she pulled away. She almost wanted to feel his mouth, to see if it was for real. After the fact, it struck her that she didn't even know if he wanted her kissing him or if he would even enjoy it or not--she'd acted on instinct and her own desire.

Biting her lower lip and blushing furiously, she occupied herself by wiping away the rest of her tears.

"I'm not going to die, Sofia, you didn't have to give me a last request."

She paused, sleeves held against both eyes. He wasn't going to... ...? She felt like kissing him again, she was so relieved. For sure, if he hadn't been lying down, she would have hugged him. But she managed to contain her joy. The way Itakshir (and, to his defense, he really didn't know the situation, having been gone during the defibrillation... not to mention he knew next to nothing about modern medicine) made it sound, Cosim was on his deathbed. She was under the impression that she very well may never see (well...figuratively speaking) him again.

And last request? She raised her head, confused, "What...?" But she'd done that on her own? He'd never asked her to kiss him... So did that mean...?

--

His nose seemed completely okay. Allen stood up as well, considering first how to word his next decision. "...Yes, it seems to be healing just fine. So I'll give you normal painkillers; it's not necessary to continue taking something like opium for this." If there was an argument over this, then he'd know something was up, that the opium wasn't just desired for relief of pain.

And if Arash was addicted, then responsibility could very well fall on Allen's shoulders, for being an enabler. 'I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures that are required, avoiding those twin traps of overtreatment and therapeutic nihilism.' Overtreatment. He followed the oath of physicians as though it were a religion.

And then, after a pause, "Is there anything else you want to talk about, Arash?" There was no mistaking the hint of double-meaning in his words. He would not come right out and say that he thought Arash had stolen the muscle relaxant. But he had a hunch.

If it turned out that he was, indeed, the culprit, Allen wasn't quite sure what he'd do. The right thing, he supposed, would be to turn him in. But...he didn't know if he could. There were certain people here he was a bit biased towards on personal matters, and while Cosim wasn't one of them, Arash was. He wasn't sure if he was so hell-bent on having justice served to throw the Iranian under the bus like that.

He watched her try to salvage herself as misplaced tears were wiped away onto her borrowed clothes. She should really get a handkerchief for that.

Cosim realized what he'd said last, and at first wished he hadn't. Then again, he had nothing really to lose, and who knew if his heart would hold up later? He might as well give it to her, now. He weakly reached for her hand and compared hers to his, noting how much more fragile she looked and wondering what his hand felt like to her. Her world was surely more kind to him than reality was. If she could suddenly see, he was sure she would think she was being tricked, that the man in her imagination looked so different to the one she was seeing.

"I don't know if I should tell you this..." He began, wondering if the stress would do him in. "But Sofia... You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen..." So beautiful it made him sad, almost. Sure, he had seen plenty of beautiful women. But none had her mind, or the way her empathy radiated off of her in waves. When she was happy, everyone around her was happy. When she was sad, those that knew her would be loathe to do anything out of depression. She wore her heart on her sleeves, and it got bigger everytime it was rained on with tears, it seemed. After all, his many people would cry over hearing he was hurt?

One. He just learned. One would, and that was more than enough.

Somewhere in his gut he knew that half of what he thought he experienced... Maybe he really hadn't. He had been having dreams about her, but they weren't near making sense.

Glad she was blind for once, he waited for her reaction with a tense expression as he was simultaneously recovering from near-death and preparing for his heart to be completely destroyed once again.

"No, no, those don't work." Arash stated instantly after the recommendation. "I've tried them before- and they don't work for me..." Opium was the only thing that "worked." Arash didn't know how long he was going to be able to get free opium from this guy. He hoped this didn't mark the end of it. Arash actually had a good pile of money saved up for other things, as he didn't have to spend anything on the drug. The drug was so pricey in America. It was really nice to be getting it for free.

"Is there anything else you want to talk about, Arash?"

Then there was something a little- imposing in his tone? It occured to Arash that the man probably suspected him. There was a slight frown, as he shook his head to indicate a 'no.'

Arash was not going to tell anyone as long as there was any chance of getting punished. He felt guilty, obviously, but not guilty enough to turn himself in. He trusted the doctor to some extent, but not enough to know he would keep this a secret. Arash didn't want to have to go to prison. He had his mother and little brother here. He had to take care of them. Prison was probably something Arash deserved, but it wasn't something he would want. What would be stopping the doctor from turning Arash in?

"No-, I don't really have any questions about my nose healing up- or anything..." He showed some very obvious discomfort.

She had no earthly idea of what he really looked like. Of course she wondered, but it had long ago ceased to be something of importance in her mind. Despite all the hardships that had come with losing her sight, this was the one aspect that was, in a way, so freeing. As paradoxical as it may have sounded, it was much easier to really see a person when you couldn't physically see them.

Blushing even more at his confession, she found his eyes and gently put her fingers over the lids, closing them shut. With a sad smile, she admonished him softly, "Cosim...if you're going to pretend like you're blind, too, you can be a little more convincing." She would not make herself believe that she was the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. It was simply not possible.

...That didn't mean she didn't want to, though. They'd known each other for such a short time, but it felt like much longer. It felt like it was justified, somehow, that she'd fallen head over heels for him. It couldn't just be infatuation, or Stockholm Syndrome, or that she was being foolish... Biting her lip, she drew her hands away from his face after lingering there for a moment, overcome with too many emotions at once to know what to say.

---

"Opium is an addictive drug," he informed him curtly, as though this were not common knowledge, "It would be dangerous to continue taking it. In fact, even with the amount you've taken so far, you will probably experience some withdrawal symptoms. Once you do, I want you to come see me so we can manage them, okay?"

Aha. A moment of inspiration had given him an excellent trap. It wasn't a lie; Arash probably would be having some withdrawal, either way, though the extremity of it would vary given how long he'd actually been taking the drug (if he had, indeed, been misusing it as Allen expected). Now if he never reported back to Allen, he'd know that he'd never gone into withdrawal, and was getting the opium from somewhere else. Then he'd have an excuse to question him about it. Was it coercion? Yes. But it was for the young Iranian's own good.

Frowning as well, he exhaled with a sigh and relented, "Okay. If something comes up, you know where I'm at." He was definitely suspicious now, with the way Arash was acting. But it didn't seem like a good idea to drill him about it right away. Probably better to build up some mutual trust, and just let him confess on his own accord.

Perhaps her touch had been playful, but it only made him frown. She really had no idea.

He really wasn't a poetic man... But he'd thought about saying it way too much to just throw the rhetoric out the window. He mulled the words over every night, imagined himself telling her this... But the setting never really was the dusty backstage of the expositions, laying on what could have been his deathbed after she had almost scared herself to death that he was dying. It was usually at night before he took apart the merry-go-round, he took her there and told her. Or something like that that he really would never do. But he remembered the words, for sure.

When she retracted her hands, he pulled them back over his eyes, closing them again. "I could look at you and tell you so... But it wouldn't be what I see, it would be what everyone sees." Which, he still thought was beautiful. "So this is the Sofia I see." He took a deep breath. Here goes. It would probably sound so unfitting coming from a gravely voice like his.

"Her eyes are like the sky on a sunny day, a bit cloudy but that's what makes it perfect... Her lips are like flower petals, and her hair catches the sunlight as if she needed it to live... Sometimes the sky rains... But everything is even more beautiful after it rains..."

He released her hands slowly and set his eyes on her face again. "That's what Sofia looks like. Sunlight and blue skies. So what if they've weathered storms." He ran his hand over the scars on hers. It may have been a setback on looking normal... But who said any of them looked normal?

Arash knew opium was addictive. Everyone did. Arash did not consider himself addicted, though. He knew many people who used the drug. They were fine, so was Arash. Arash knew he got sick if he went too long without the drug. That didn't mean he was addicted- it just meant the drug prevented him from feeling sick. Should Arash tell this to Allen? No, Allen would probably consider it to be withdrawl symptoms. Then he wouldn't let Arash have anymore of the drug- ever again.

"I don't see how I could be addicted!" the tone of Arash's voice raised with offense. The idea that he could even be addicted was so infuriating. Arash was not that low. Why was this man suggesting that? And Arash trusted this man, too! Now the doctor, a man Arash considered to be a friend dared to treat the Iranian like this. "I only use it when I need it!" Which was true- but Arash felt he needed it way more than the average person would. "You're not supposed to deny your patient medicine when they need it! I'm in pain, and nothing else works!"

The man that Arash almost killed did not matter anymore. The doctor, his friend, had just betrayed him by suggesting an addiction. He was trying to offend Arash's dear and precious pride. Where Arash looked uncomfortable before, he looked angered and defiant now.