The Butcher (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
onlyhearmusic) wrote2023-10-21 08:27 pm
onlyhearmusic) wrote2023-10-21 08:27 pm
Entry tags:
[the last voyages] ic inbox
"Leave yer message."
[oh. no, he knew. he just didn't care. the beep comes after another brief humming stops.]
"Leave yer message."
[oh. no, he knew. he just didn't care. the beep comes after another brief humming stops.]
You enjoy it, don't you? Pain. Hurting people.
There's a thrill to causin' another's misfortune, to watchin' them bleed, and tha best part when tha life leaves their eyes.
Good afternoon, Mr Collins. Or may I call you Dennis? My name is Malcolm Bright. How are you doing today?
You may not. Same headache as yesterday, so iffin ya have a point please be gettin' to it quickly.
[Well, that's just weird.
He still doesn't care for video feed and also he's death tolling so this is not going to go well.]
Fuck off.
[Absolutely not.]
He still doesn't care for video feed and also he's death tolling so this is not going to go well.]
Fuck off.
[Absolutely not.]
Mr. Collins - My name is Raylan Givens and I've been assigned to you for the month. [Raylan's soft but unmistakable southern drawl, always calm and mostly easy going, marked him as much as Collins' brogue marked him, and it was full of a soft authority and cool professionalism.]
Let's talk. We can meet wherever you'd like.
Let's talk. We can meet wherever you'd like.
Brilliant. Another one.
I'll tell you tha same thing I told tha last: fuck off.
I'll tell you tha same thing I told tha last: fuck off.
[Raylan had reached out to Ulla the morning of Christmas Eve about a gift that only she could practically provide, but as much as he would have liked it to be an unworking done in secret, she'd informed him that it had to be done face to face.
So here he was heading towards Collins' location, having given Ulla them as well, a little concerned about how well this was going to go and if it was a mistake he was about to make.]
So here he was heading towards Collins' location, having given Ulla them as well, a little concerned about how well this was going to go and if it was a mistake he was about to make.]
[On the evening of the 24th, Collins will discover a small package wrapped in a scrap of bright wrapping paper outside his door.
Inside is a clockwork toy in the shape of a little tin man with a knife. When wound up, it swipes with the knife a few times and then falls clumsily on its face.
There is no note. Merry Christmas, someone's holding a grudge.]
Inside is a clockwork toy in the shape of a little tin man with a knife. When wound up, it swipes with the knife a few times and then falls clumsily on its face.
There is no note. Merry Christmas, someone's holding a grudge.]
[This is both hilarious and disturbing at the same time, but mostly just amusing. He might actually keep it in a corner of his sparsely equipped room for shits and giggles until he rediscovers it one day and decides whether to keep it or throw it away. No idea what it's all about but the falling on its face does warrant a small insult considering. It's fine. He'll figure it out later.]
Raylan did not call Collins. He did not text Collins. He tracks Collins down, back to the library and finds him in the stacks. Instead of coming in hot, he ambles in, as easy as ever, gun and hat donned, trying to judge Collins general state of being as he draws his attention with a- "Hey Collins."
Collins's head was down, lost in thought. He hadn't been on duty when everything went down and he wasn't pretending to be now either. He was simply at an isolated area with one hand on the back of a chair as if he had been about to sit and never got around to the action.
When he heard Givens call out to him, he looked up with an automatic scowl on his face. He couldn't even enjoy five minutes with his elation (and confusion and frustration) before the warden was on his case. Fantastic.
He didn't say anything immediately, just glared defiance at the warden.
When he heard Givens call out to him, he looked up with an automatic scowl on his face. He couldn't even enjoy five minutes with his elation (and confusion and frustration) before the warden was on his case. Fantastic.
He didn't say anything immediately, just glared defiance at the warden.
[The reply to this is a long time coming. Half a day later. Like he wasn't planning on replying at all and then just caved and finally replied anyway.
Just to be mean.]
We are not friends.
Just to be mean.]
We are not friends.
Nico doesn't contact his new inmate immediately, but he doesn't wait much longer than a day or so before following the way the rays of the sun on one half of his coin seem to stretch and point this way and that, almost like a compass, until he comes to Dennis Collins' door. He'd rather introduce himself in person. And he doesn't want to crowd anybody, but he also doesn't want to be one of those wardens that doesn't seem to want to have anything to do with their temporary inmates.
He knocks. He waits. He knocks again. He tries calling through the door. Nothing.
The guy's inside. The coin hasn't been wrong yet. And now Nico's stomach is dropping, because someone died earlier. Someone he doesn't know.
Whether he can open the door and walk in or needs to shadow travel through it, one way or another he gets through. And that's when he discovers that the person who'd died had indeed been Dennis Collins, and the reason no one took care of it is because Nico's the one who needs to take care of it.
So, he does. When Collins comes back to life, he'll find himself lying on his bed with a pale, skinny teenaged boy in his cabin looking curiously through any records he might have to go with the player.
He knocks. He waits. He knocks again. He tries calling through the door. Nothing.
The guy's inside. The coin hasn't been wrong yet. And now Nico's stomach is dropping, because someone died earlier. Someone he doesn't know.
Whether he can open the door and walk in or needs to shadow travel through it, one way or another he gets through. And that's when he discovers that the person who'd died had indeed been Dennis Collins, and the reason no one took care of it is because Nico's the one who needs to take care of it.
So, he does. When Collins comes back to life, he'll find himself lying on his bed with a pale, skinny teenaged boy in his cabin looking curiously through any records he might have to go with the player.
The old Irishman had definitely seen better days. When he awoke it was not with a start nor was it with a groan. It was simply with the blink of weary eyes and a thousand yard stare at the ceiling of his room. He recognized the feel of his new bed and choked down a mirthless laugh at the thought that provoked. Already testing out how that would feel while death tolling. Wouldn't the Marshal just get a kick out of seeing him now.
It was not, however, the Marshal that was waiting for him to revive this time. It was some new warden. New temporary pairings had been...yesterday, he supposed, if not too much time had passed while he wasn't conscious. Easy way to put it. Not that the ache would let that lie.
Collins turned his head and caught sight of the boy peering at the records on the shelves. He frowned. God, he hated this fucking ship. He propped himself up on his elbows with a grunt and glared in the direction of the young warden.
It was not, however, the Marshal that was waiting for him to revive this time. It was some new warden. New temporary pairings had been...yesterday, he supposed, if not too much time had passed while he wasn't conscious. Easy way to put it. Not that the ache would let that lie.
Collins turned his head and caught sight of the boy peering at the records on the shelves. He frowned. God, he hated this fucking ship. He propped himself up on his elbows with a grunt and glared in the direction of the young warden.
Did you take it?
I'm... not going to tell anyone if you did. But if you want me to do something to get it back, I'm not going to do that either. It's... fair. To lose it. For what I did.
I'm... not going to tell anyone if you did. But if you want me to do something to get it back, I'm not going to do that either. It's... fair. To lose it. For what I did.
[There's not an immediate reply to this message; either he was busy or he was contemplating the entity's voice for sincerity and what his response was going to be. Either way it's a few minutes later.]
No, boyo, it's not fair. We're not even for that. But it ain't comin' back from where I put it, so it's a little off yer debt.
No, boyo, it's not fair. We're not even for that. But it ain't comin' back from where I put it, so it's a little off yer debt.
[ Saga goes to the library. It's her first guess, of course, since that's where she found him before. It doesn't take too much work to hunt him down; it's what she's good at, after all. But she'll make her way up slow, offer a little wave of a greeting as she does, and sit down quietly. If he greets her back, she's content to start chatting but if he keeps doing whatever he was doing, she'll pull out the book she'd picked up on the way and start reading herself. ]
[He nodded in response, recognizing her more by demeanor than appearance from the dark, but he did little else to acknowledge her presence as he worked. Collins had never been one to make it easy on his temporary wardens when they inevitably sought him out. He wasn't ready to start making exceptions now. She would come to him, or they would continue to ignore each other from opposite ends of rooms for the remainder of the month.
It was no skin off his back.]
It was no skin off his back.]
[A little owl finch sits on Zichen's shoulder as he makes his way to a certain cabin. Upon arriving, he knocks on Collins's door and hopes the man is available. They have a lot of catching up to do.]
You'll like him. [He reassures his feathered friend, smiling when he is given a chirp. He, on the other hand... Well, that's complicated. Collins has hurt a lot of people onboard and Zichen wants to get to the bottom of why.]
You'll like him. [He reassures his feathered friend, smiling when he is given a chirp. He, on the other hand... Well, that's complicated. Collins has hurt a lot of people onboard and Zichen wants to get to the bottom of why.]
Edited 2024-04-22 22:16 (UTC)
[Honestly Collins couldn't imagine why anyone in their right mind would come seek him out, except for a warden, so when he opened the door there was no surprise in his expression as he stared out at Zichen. His demeanor remained impassive indefinitely, though his eyes slid towards the little bird on Zichen's shoulder briefly, and back again.]
Yer going ta want ta leave tha li'l one out of here. [He told Zichen with as indifferent a tone as his expression. He did, however, step back as if to invite the other man inside, refusing to fight the inevitable today.] Ain't safe. What do you want?
Yer going ta want ta leave tha li'l one out of here. [He told Zichen with as indifferent a tone as his expression. He did, however, step back as if to invite the other man inside, refusing to fight the inevitable today.] Ain't safe. What do you want?
Edited 2024-04-22 23:06 (UTC)
The advantage of working custodial, as well as an apparent opportunity for certain people to set up lethal traps, is that it's also relatively easy for Blitzø to figure out where those same people live and ensure that he's able to keep tabs on their routine, more or less. He doesn't doubt that Collins is going to be looking over his shoulder after everything, but when he's focused like this, Blitzø can be patient as fuck and with his decent night vision and being small and nimble, he can hide himself away a lot easier than the average human and keep tabs on where Collins is.
It also means that he can wait until he knows Collins is going to be out of his room and with no one nearby, making it easy for him to slip behind the man and aim to slash the backs of his knees with a wicked knife. The goal is easy: get him down to the floor and unable to run. Then he'll have plenty of time for revenge.
It also means that he can wait until he knows Collins is going to be out of his room and with no one nearby, making it easy for him to slip behind the man and aim to slash the backs of his knees with a wicked knife. The goal is easy: get him down to the floor and unable to run. Then he'll have plenty of time for revenge.
Collins did not spend a lot of time outside of his room the following weeks after his rampage. Whether that was due to punishment or avoiding people and further consequences was up for debate though as his demeanor hardly changed when he did go to work at the library or get food at the cafeteria. Then there was the Flood and who wanted to be out during that debacle. But a few days after the Flood the Irishman finally began to settle into what felt like a regular schedule close to what it was before his return from his world.
He still avoided people when he could. He didn't seem very concerned with revenge attempts. It wasn't lack of intelligence or even arrogance, but seemed rather to be simply because he didn't care to waste his energy on the inevitable. It certainly made him an easy target.
Blitzø took him completely by surprise when he attacked. His first leg buckled beneath his weight as the knife slashed through skin and muscle, and if he had had half a second to think he might have feared the blood vessels there were severed as well. Instead, however, the Butcher worried about the next attack because without a doubt it was coming. Just because he knew it was inevitable and pointless--despite the fact that he was told how his restrictions worked now--didn't mean he was the type to go down without a fight.
The follow-through slash cut his skin but the bite was not as deep as the Butcher allowed his stumble to turn into a fall and a roll. His old bones disagreed with the action but it didn't slow him down. The wicked cut of his popliteal fossa did though. He ended up still on the ground, his knees protesting his position. He rotated his upper body to look back at his attacker.
"Fuckin' demon brat..."
Not what he expected but then what did it matter. If this was part of their game though and nothing more, he was going to make this creature suffer.
He still avoided people when he could. He didn't seem very concerned with revenge attempts. It wasn't lack of intelligence or even arrogance, but seemed rather to be simply because he didn't care to waste his energy on the inevitable. It certainly made him an easy target.
Blitzø took him completely by surprise when he attacked. His first leg buckled beneath his weight as the knife slashed through skin and muscle, and if he had had half a second to think he might have feared the blood vessels there were severed as well. Instead, however, the Butcher worried about the next attack because without a doubt it was coming. Just because he knew it was inevitable and pointless--despite the fact that he was told how his restrictions worked now--didn't mean he was the type to go down without a fight.
The follow-through slash cut his skin but the bite was not as deep as the Butcher allowed his stumble to turn into a fall and a roll. His old bones disagreed with the action but it didn't slow him down. The wicked cut of his popliteal fossa did though. He ended up still on the ground, his knees protesting his position. He rotated his upper body to look back at his attacker.
"Fuckin' demon brat..."
Not what he expected but then what did it matter. If this was part of their game though and nothing more, he was going to make this creature suffer.
[ooc: After the last Flood but before Blitzø's revenge!]
At some point after John Doe lets Collins be on his merry way after the recent "accidental" deaths, Collins is approached somewhere in public by a fancy-looking man in butler uniform. The speakeasy? The Dining Hall? Either way, Sebastian lingers by his table, and smiles.
"Mr Collins? May I join you?"
At some point after John Doe lets Collins be on his merry way after the recent "accidental" deaths, Collins is approached somewhere in public by a fancy-looking man in butler uniform. The speakeasy? The Dining Hall? Either way, Sebastian lingers by his table, and smiles.
"Mr Collins? May I join you?"
Collins stayed in his room for quite a while after the incident, but he did go out for brief snippets to get food. Usually he would rather grab and go but some days it just wasn't in the cards. He sat at a table picking slowly at his food. He glanced up when he was addressed.
He sighed. "I would rather you didn't. But as I'm sure you have somethin' ta say or ta do, go on and get it over with and be on yer way."
He sighed. "I would rather you didn't. But as I'm sure you have somethin' ta say or ta do, go on and get it over with and be on yer way."
Ain't me head that's aching so much as me chest. You have no manners, Mr. Bright, it's very unbecoming.
He gets the alert and he drops what he is doing, speeding off to search for his wayward, violent inmate. It takes some time for him to find him and when he does, he discovers the poor state Collins is in. Gritting his teeth, Zichen lifts the man into his arms and takes him to the clinic. Once he wakes, the death toll is no joke. Zichen has paid that toll to himself.
"Who did you anger?" he tuts and lays Dennis on a spare bed, pulling up a seat to sit beside him.
After he washes his hands, of course. It is still difficult to touch others, but he couldn't just leave Collins in a lonely corridor. In this case, his sense of morality - and loyalty - overcame his fear.
"Who did you anger?" he tuts and lays Dennis on a spare bed, pulling up a seat to sit beside him.
After he washes his hands, of course. It is still difficult to touch others, but he couldn't just leave Collins in a lonely corridor. In this case, his sense of morality - and loyalty - overcame his fear.
Edited 2024-04-25 23:38 (UTC)
Collins doesn't even recognize the clinic at first sight. Though it has that clinical feel to it--bright lights, thin bedding, the smell of cleanliness--and he thinks of a hospital immediately upon waking. His thoughts wander to the last time he was in a hospital. He was there to kill someone. Ty up loose ends.
It's not the same hospital though and he realizes it in short order. He remembers that he's stuck on this forsaken ship that's actually a prison. It's hell pretending to be purgatory. A universal joke full of chaos and lies.
His pale blue eyes skit over the room and stop on Zichen waiting patiently in the chair. He stares for a moment before simply closing his eyes and willing the man away.
It's not the same hospital though and he realizes it in short order. He remembers that he's stuck on this forsaken ship that's actually a prison. It's hell pretending to be purgatory. A universal joke full of chaos and lies.
His pale blue eyes skit over the room and stop on Zichen waiting patiently in the chair. He stares for a moment before simply closing his eyes and willing the man away.
Fuck off. [He hates it so much, thanks (for nothing).]
Collins? [Zichen doesn't know whether he is coming or going, but he seems to have a little time to reach out to his inmate now.] Are you alright? Are you safe? I'm sorry I've been missing. Someone from my world came to briefly take my place.
[He'd noticed the lad was missing, replaced technically, and it explained why the lad didn't come running earlier. Much to Collins's relief. He wasn't ready for the nagging concern to return.]
I'm fine.
[His voice was a bit rough, but it was hard to tell from what. Collins didn't turn on the video on his end.]
I'm fine.
[His voice was a bit rough, but it was hard to tell from what. Collins didn't turn on the video on his end.]
He feels almost bad about this one, given that he doesn't dislike Collins entirely either and had thought they were done after the last time he'd cornered the man alone, but Blitzø figures it's better to nip this shit in the bud now.
He knocks at the door, tail flicking behind him the only indication that he's annoyed at this point.
"Open up, fucker, I know you're in there."
He knocks at the door, tail flicking behind him the only indication that he's annoyed at this point.
"Open up, fucker, I know you're in there."
Collins frowned in the direction of the door. He didn't have company often and no one knocked on his door because they wanted to. It was almost always his warden coming to check on him. In fact, he'd almost yelled out 'fuck off' before he'd realized the voice on the other side wasn't, in fact, Song Zichen.
Curiosity got the better of him and he went to answer the door. He blinked then realized there was movement below. He looked down at Blitzø. A raised brow and a smirk vied for position on his face, the resulting expression wry.
"And what do you want, little demon?"
Curiosity got the better of him and he went to answer the door. He blinked then realized there was movement below. He looked down at Blitzø. A raised brow and a smirk vied for position on his face, the resulting expression wry.
"And what do you want, little demon?"
[After this shit.]
Yer Warden's a fuckin' cunt. I see why yer livid about bein' shackled ta that shit.
Yer Warden's a fuckin' cunt. I see why yer livid about bein' shackled ta that shit.
I did tell ya. [He can easily guess what this is about since he was watching that post Zichen made. The timing had been as suspicious as the content.] You talked to him on tha network recently, didn't ya. He's always like that.
[Collins's first inclination was to slam the door in his warden's face. In fact he began the motion before it halted mid-swing, his eyes upon the whiskey (the foreign instrument completely ignored). It was tempting.]
What do you want?
[He said gruffly, not bothering to look at Zichen as if he was beneath him.]
What do you want?
[He said gruffly, not bothering to look at Zichen as if he was beneath him.]
I am using this method to contact you since it might be easier than speaking or seeing one another face to face.
I want to discuss your current restrictions and how we can lighten your load. I am very appreciative of how you helped me, though that is not the reason I am considering this. I have been unhappy with your situation for some time.
I want to discuss your current restrictions and how we can lighten your load. I am very appreciative of how you helped me, though that is not the reason I am considering this. I have been unhappy with your situation for some time.
What?
[In the sort of tone that implies "what the hell do you want right now?"]
[In the sort of tone that implies "what the hell do you want right now?"]
[for Vincent Valentine] action; during the Deep Waters event
onlyhearmusic
2024-10-09 05:03 am (UTC)(link)
Collins had been watching Aerith from afar ever since she'd been rescued from the capsized ship. He had been the one to tell her rescuer where to find her. He had been the one to make certain she was safe. But he had not followed up on it. There were too many people surrounding her and he didn't care about all that.
But it would be rather a shame if something happened to her while this nonsense was still ongoing. It would be a failure on his part, and he could not abide failure. His father had ensured that.
He didn't keep an eye on her all the time though. She was safe enough in her little group. Probably. He didn't want to be a part of that anyway. Best he kept his distance.
So Collins did. He kept his distance and disappeared into the crowded space. He kept his head down and his gaze watchful, blending in and disappearing into the wood work like a good silent assassin biding his time. It was what he was good at.
Not so much the little weasel. Collins did a good job keeping it contained. When it was awake Collins fed it with fish and then kept it entertained as best he could until it got tired and went back to sleep. It was fortunate that weasels slept so much. He could stuff it into his pocket or bag and it stayed put, nice and safe and out of sight.
Until one time it decided to slip off, oblivious to the danger, and roam around in curiosity. Collins had been distracted when it woke and slipped sneakily out. It didn't take him long to notice the absence, but by then it was too late. The little animal had been spotted by one of the Narrenschiff crew. It wasn't a very pleasant man. Collins didn't even get a chance to talk it over with the man--and once he heard the alarmed squeal from the weasel, a pained and panicked noise as it tried to escape the hand that harmed it--Collins didn't bother to try. The Irishman rushed the man. The Narrenschiff crewmember went toppling over, Collins went with him, and the stoat went flying across the deck. It landed on its feet and didn't stop moving until it had found the smallest hole to hide in.
Collins fist flew in a fury. He didn't stop until he felt the first pinpricks of a knife stab into his leg. He hiss-growled furiously and in an instant his tactic changed. He grabbed for the knife, twisted it expertly out of the other man's hand, and now with weapon in hand he ended the fight before it could go any further. Collins was left bleeding, but the other man was left dead.
The expert assassin didn't even bother to remove the knife from the other man. There was no sense in keeping it, that would only incriminate him if it were a recognizable weapon. He didn't know how the death toll worked on this ship but if he was lucky the man wouldn't come back for some time. If he was even more lucky the fight had been so quick that the other man wouldn't be able to pin it on him even when he did come back. Either way, Collins glanced around furtively to check who might have seen what happened. It was a crowded ship, especially down below deck, but fortunately it was also very dark in the area Collins had chosen for the night. If anyone nearby had noticed anything they weren't keen to make it known which probably meant it was a crime with no witnesses. Or none that would say anything.
Collins moved quickly to dispose of the body. If he could get rid of it then that might mean more time before it was noticed and brought back. Fortunately for him, he had years of experience in this sort of thing. Unfortunately, that didn't always mean luck was on his side. He could be spotted by chance at any time.
But it would be rather a shame if something happened to her while this nonsense was still ongoing. It would be a failure on his part, and he could not abide failure. His father had ensured that.
He didn't keep an eye on her all the time though. She was safe enough in her little group. Probably. He didn't want to be a part of that anyway. Best he kept his distance.
So Collins did. He kept his distance and disappeared into the crowded space. He kept his head down and his gaze watchful, blending in and disappearing into the wood work like a good silent assassin biding his time. It was what he was good at.
Not so much the little weasel. Collins did a good job keeping it contained. When it was awake Collins fed it with fish and then kept it entertained as best he could until it got tired and went back to sleep. It was fortunate that weasels slept so much. He could stuff it into his pocket or bag and it stayed put, nice and safe and out of sight.
Until one time it decided to slip off, oblivious to the danger, and roam around in curiosity. Collins had been distracted when it woke and slipped sneakily out. It didn't take him long to notice the absence, but by then it was too late. The little animal had been spotted by one of the Narrenschiff crew. It wasn't a very pleasant man. Collins didn't even get a chance to talk it over with the man--and once he heard the alarmed squeal from the weasel, a pained and panicked noise as it tried to escape the hand that harmed it--Collins didn't bother to try. The Irishman rushed the man. The Narrenschiff crewmember went toppling over, Collins went with him, and the stoat went flying across the deck. It landed on its feet and didn't stop moving until it had found the smallest hole to hide in.
Collins fist flew in a fury. He didn't stop until he felt the first pinpricks of a knife stab into his leg. He hiss-growled furiously and in an instant his tactic changed. He grabbed for the knife, twisted it expertly out of the other man's hand, and now with weapon in hand he ended the fight before it could go any further. Collins was left bleeding, but the other man was left dead.
The expert assassin didn't even bother to remove the knife from the other man. There was no sense in keeping it, that would only incriminate him if it were a recognizable weapon. He didn't know how the death toll worked on this ship but if he was lucky the man wouldn't come back for some time. If he was even more lucky the fight had been so quick that the other man wouldn't be able to pin it on him even when he did come back. Either way, Collins glanced around furtively to check who might have seen what happened. It was a crowded ship, especially down below deck, but fortunately it was also very dark in the area Collins had chosen for the night. If anyone nearby had noticed anything they weren't keen to make it known which probably meant it was a crime with no witnesses. Or none that would say anything.
Collins moved quickly to dispose of the body. If he could get rid of it then that might mean more time before it was noticed and brought back. Fortunately for him, he had years of experience in this sort of thing. Unfortunately, that didn't always mean luck was on his side. He could be spotted by chance at any time.
There's no denying that Vincent Valentine is a friend of Aerith's. That is hardly surprising. But there's signs that they knew each other before the Barge. Proficient with the method of magic the woman uses, occasionally responding to her on the network when the gunman rarely speaks up without reason; that sort of thing.
And of course, the camp of refugees was initially established by a group from the same world, timelines and realities aside.
But the only thing that Vincent's regard of Aerith as a personal friend changes is what he does with the observation of Collin's visits as it finally becomes clear there is a particular focus. Perhaps he would have gone unnoticed if the former Turk wasn't on the lookout for any unusual activity; from Crew or Barge alike.
He had made sure of his suspicions- of Collin's particular focus for being in and out of the encampment. Then he had waited for a time when the man wasn't there, quietly finished tasks and stepped away himself for a time.
He probably has an idea of where to look for Collins but... he's not there. And thus is takes more time to track him down through the corridors of the Narrenschiff; moreso because the assassin is so adept at moving without being noticed. So it's no surprise that by the time Vincent arrives, the deed has been done.
"What happened?" The gunman's indifferent-seeming tones drift out of the shadows and soon he emerges in to direct sight; interrupting the efforts to dispose of the body.
Ruby eyes are focused intently on Collins, assessing with far more clear interest and caution than his demeanor suggests.
And of course, the camp of refugees was initially established by a group from the same world, timelines and realities aside.
But the only thing that Vincent's regard of Aerith as a personal friend changes is what he does with the observation of Collin's visits as it finally becomes clear there is a particular focus. Perhaps he would have gone unnoticed if the former Turk wasn't on the lookout for any unusual activity; from Crew or Barge alike.
He had made sure of his suspicions- of Collin's particular focus for being in and out of the encampment. Then he had waited for a time when the man wasn't there, quietly finished tasks and stepped away himself for a time.
He probably has an idea of where to look for Collins but... he's not there. And thus is takes more time to track him down through the corridors of the Narrenschiff; moreso because the assassin is so adept at moving without being noticed. So it's no surprise that by the time Vincent arrives, the deed has been done.
"What happened?" The gunman's indifferent-seeming tones drift out of the shadows and soon he emerges in to direct sight; interrupting the efforts to dispose of the body.
Ruby eyes are focused intently on Collins, assessing with far more clear interest and caution than his demeanor suggests.
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