"Why the fuck did you do it?"
Christoph startled as he walked back into the main room of his house; his favoured chair, where he'd been sat mere minutes ago and had only been vacated to fetch a prized new bottle of whiskey, was now occupied by a dusty, red-haired man with an angry scowl on his face. Initially wanting to rise to the obvious accusation with something sharp and (literally) pointed, the glint of something brass in the intruder's lap tempered Christoph's reaction into something slightly more sensible.
...this couldn't be about... that, right?
"Did what?" he replied, pulling up from some unearned well of confidence. "You can't just be walking in here with accusations, Obelyn. Thought you were out trailing Dorothy's killer?"
"Doin' it right now, fuckhead."
Well, shit. Christoph huffed, folding his arms over his chest; was he going to have to kill again? Wasn't something he wanted to try and repeat, at least with someone he was fully aware had a gun already drawn. He'd have to be careful with this, throw this asshole off the scent. Was no way there was any evidence, he'd made sure of that, which just left suspicions. Those could be dealt with.
"My father paid you for this, so you should go report to him," Christoph said, waving a hand. "If you've found where my sister--"
"Oh, I found her alright." Thomas stood up, and Christoph realised, with a cold shiver, what that had to mean. "Put her in a much safer place for after I've finished dealing with you."
"You can't have, no way she's still in town."
"But she is, as you fucking know. Shit job you did of burying poor Dotty; don't you know anything about the wilds out here? Her father, her husband, they aint even got a full body to lay to rest..."
Thomas's body was vaguely shaking, a deep flush in the skin obvious even in the soft orange light of the candles. Christoph glanced down at the free hand of his would-be assailant and, yes, there were those fabled sparks. Just barely there, but still. There.
"C'mon, Tommy!" Christoph turned his back, hoping the vulnerability would help his case. "Why the hell would I do it? Nothing to gain, nothing but love for her in this old heart. You break in and I find out she's dead like this? That's a shittin' spiteful thing to do, you right nasty bastard."
"Don't try me," Thomas growled, only stomping forward and turning Christoph back around to face him forcefully. "We're gettin' back to my question, 'cause I know you did it, I know how, I just don't fucking know why you did this. That's the only reason you don't already have a bullet in your head. So! I suggest you either tell me the truth or tell me a real convincing lie."
"I didn't--"
Christoph was almost on the floor already by the time he comprehended the fist, the pain, the blood. He howled as awareness filled him, then howled louder still as a boot hit his side. The sheer force behind the metal-caps drove all breath from his lungs, agony spreading through his ribs.
"Did I not fucking tell you I KNOW you did it?"
"I--"
"Answer, now!"
"She wouldn't stop nagging me!" Christoph almost screamed, barely coherent, desperate and afraid. "Just wouldn't stop! Wouldn't let me just BE! You gotta understand that, I just couldn't, I couldn't HANDLE it anymore!"
"Dotty was HELPING you! Loved you! And you... YOU--"
Thomas's frustrated scream was punctuated by a second hard kick, fractures bending to breaks; the pain was too much, too hard, and Christoph's vision was swimming. He sobbed with it, trying to grip at the wound, but was stopped in his tracks when a hand firmly gripped his head and smacked it hard against the ground. This was one knock too far. Too much. Things began to fade, his body no longer able to take it, but before the lights went out a hard blue came up right close to his face. It was a gaze so intense it pierced even through the haze, and the voice of a tempest just barely holding back from unleashing filled his ears with one more note of fear before Christoph's vision went fully dark.
"You'll wish I did fucking kill you, once your old man comes to have a little chat."