"Oh, I am sorry. What sort of a host am I?"
"A deceitful one, for a start."
Aaaaand, the old Adam's back in the room.
The only reply I give are two is-that-so raised eyebrows.
"As I was saying, you can kid yourself into thinking you're an honourable military man all you like, but what sort of sergeant would spend decades hiding like a rat in a hole just because he was too much of a fucking coward to tell me he wasn't dead after all?" Adam's in my face now, snarling; now that we're alone, no longer in public, he feels he can say what the hell he likes, but it works both ways.
"Someone who was trying to stay the hell away from the guy who did his level best to kill him," I shoot back. "Did you ever think of that, Adam? Ever? That being anywhere near you sickened me, and I just wanted to get away? Did you ever ask yourself if perhaps I didn't want Will to save me? Maybe I fucking wanted to die, but he did the altruistic thing and brought me back even though I'd rather be dead than live on the same planet as you?"
Not for the first time tonight, Adam stares at me, open-mouthed in shock, and at close proximity, his sudden pallor is all too obvious. He drank recently, as evidenced by his recent ability to cry (or nearly), so there's blood in him, and it reddened his cheeks when he spoke to me in anger moments ago, but now it drains away.
"I---"
"Don't," he interrupts. "Don't you dare do the right thing and say you're sorry." He steps back, still staring at me in that I can't believe you said that way he has, then he adopts the same posture as me---spine straight, facing front. "I know you're not."
"You can read my mind now?"
"Always heed what a man says in anger because that's bound to be the truth."
"Welcome to my humble abode. Temporary lodgings, I mean." I don't turn around as I speak, even when the door gives its terminal click. Alone with Adam. Sure, we talked on the street, sparred in the lift, but this room offers comfort and privacy.
Well, privacy, at least.
"Quit the niceties, Nathan." He sighs, trying to tell me he's fed up with these games, but he likes to play. I've known him too long not to have noticed that. "Let's just cut to the chase. I came up here because I want you to tell me exactly what happened and---"
"Actually." Turning on my heels, I waggle a forefinger, schoolmaster-style. "You asked to come up here to talk, and I agreed. So don't talk like you decided, so mote it be."
"Always so bloody pedantic. Does it really matter? We both know what we came here for. Spill."
I lift my eyebrows. "I beg your pardon?"
"Why did you lie to me? Why did you and Will lie to me?"
"May I remind you, we didn't exactly lie. We just didn't bother telling you some of the finer points of the matter."
"Oh, like, you've been alive for the past seventy years and---"
"Technically undead, not alive, according to my papers, at least."
"Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" he demands, shouting louder than I've ever heard.
Apart from the evening in question, the one he wants me to explain in excruciating detail.
I let my coat slip down my arms, catching it before it hits the floor, a smooth move I've executed a number of times in the past, and yes, childishly, I'm pleased that Adam's watching as I do it again. His gaze burns into me as I slip past him and hang my overcoat on one of the hooks by the door. I glance at the door handle, and in the back of my mind is the notion that it locks automatically when it clicks shut.
Shit. I'm in a locked room with Adam.
All I have to do is flip the latch if I'm that panicked, but no. I'm being stupid. This needs to be done.
"I didn't tell you..." I run my hand over my coat, pretending to make sure it hangs properly, but I just need something to do with my hands, an excuse not to turn around and see the hurt and anger on Adam's face all over again. "I didn't tell you because you smothered me."
He doesn't say anything, and I count to ten before looking at him. Only then does he speak.
Okay, then, so this is how it is. He wants me to look him in the eye as I hurt him. As he hurts me.
"I smothered you?"
"I told you that countless times. I told you I didn't want to change."
"You did! You bloody did want it. You told me you were just frightened, and..."
"And you bit me anyway."
"I know I did, but..." Adam does that thing again, where he balls his fist and raises it. This time, he hits it a few times off his own forehead, like he's trying to force his mind to come up with the perfect word or reason or excuse or lie.
Something, anything, to make all of this all right again. To make it never have happened. But if it hadn't, we wouldn't be here now, having this mess of a conversation. I would more than likely have been dead for years. Nearly a century old, so definitely on my way out if still alive.
Adam's fist flattens, and he presses the palm to his face, covering his eyes. "I thought I could persuade you. I couldn't let you...I mean, there was a war on, Nathan." He drops his hand, lets me see his face again, and he's almost laughing. "You could have died. And then where would I have been?"
"You took away
