Work Text:
"Prove it."
Sebastian's eyes remain cold, unblinking. Of course, there’s no way for Adair to prove he hasn’t sold him out, but that’s half the fun. The man squirms, trying to find a weakness in the rope that binds his wrists, but the movement merely drives the cord further into his skin. Sebastian rolls his eyes. “I have done this before, you know,” he quips before placing two fingers under Adair’s chin and tilting his face up. His eyes are glazed; pupils blown wide until they almost eclipse the irises entirely. His chest rises and falls in shallow bursts and his pale hands tremble, long fingers twisting uncontrollably in his lap as Sebastian looks on, an amused smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Well? Come on, Ronnie, wake up,” Sebastian snaps his fingers inches from Adair’s nose and the glaze disappears. The sniper stands tall before him; an imposing presence in an ink-black suit, Beretta resting loosely against his thigh and positioned carefully to make the most of his victim’s peripheral vision. Adair looks everywhere but into Sebastian’s eyes: the flat door – firmly locked against the intrusion he’d known was coming; the desk drawer where his own SIG Sauer P220 sits; the window that he’d foolishly left open to counteract the midday sun. His brow furrows and he swallows hard.
"I....how?"
With a shrug, Sebastian's mouth pulls into a slight smile and he drops to his haunches in front of the chair and waits. After a few moments, Adair finally gives in and returns the eye contact. Sebastian responds with a slow shake of his head.
”Not my problem. So, again - what do you know and who have you told?" His voice has a vague singsong quality, one that triggers old memories that are hastily pushed aside before they can disturb his expression. He shifts slightly as he waits, elbows on his knees, fingers purposefully toggling the pistol's safety.
"I promise you, Mr Moran, nothing! Just –“ The words come out desperate, garbled. Adair stammers, stumbles. Takes a deep, stuttered breath, pauses and tries again. “Just his name, that's all I found out. A-and that the two of you used to…before he… I didn't tell! I wouldn't! Please, just don’t…" A single bead of sweat rolls down Adair’s forehead.
Sebastian sighs, moves his hands to his thighs and pushes himself to standing.
"Oh, you silly boy, Ronnie," he chastises, flexing his neck in an odd reptilian fashion. He raises the pistol smoothly.
Adair’s hands are halfway towards shielding his face when it explodes, decorating the wall behind him with a grotesque mix of brain matter and spinal fluid.