On a good day Billy did not enjoy being taunted. Luckily his career path did not usually involved him being taunted, because most people did not enjoy the feeling of not knowing whether or not their temper would cause their healer to slack on their treatment or not, but between his younger brother and sister Billy had been taunted enough to know how he reacted to it, and this was - objectively worse.

He exhaled through his nose, his lips in a deep-set frown, and for a moment he hesitated. He pushed the wand a little harder, considering what spells would do enough damage but not visibly so by the time they left—but suddenly he let up on the pressure, and in one motion he pulled his hand back, threw his wand off into the space behind him, and swung a now-closed fist right into Greengrass' temple.

---

  

---

He'd dropped his wand. That was what Ford latched on to, even as he saw Darrow's fist headed towards him. He'd provoked the other man to the point where he'd dropped his wand.

Ford reeled back from the contact, his head spinning, but this was working. He had to keep this up, because if he could keep Darrow distracted enough that he didn't notice that he'd dropped his wand...

He shot Darrow a look, and a derisive smile. "Yeah, you're a real victim, aren't you?"

  

---

Set by Lady!

Billy stepped forward and took a hold of Greengrass by the collar of his shirt, tugging upwards until their faces were less than a foot apart. "You're suddenly brave for someone whose hands are quite literally tied," he challenged, because Greengrass' words were - not easy to respond to, admittedly. He was a victim, and he might not have gone about it the right way, but that was neither something he intended to confide in Greengrass about, and certainly while not while actively victimizing the other man.

---

  

---

This was good — he was grabbing Ford's shirt, which meant he wasn't retrieving his wand, and it also meant that he was in close enough quarters that Ford might be able to stop him if he tried. He still had Ford's wand, somewhere, but — one problem at a time.

"You're pretty violent for a healer," he shot back. "And pretty strong for someone who's apparently so sick."

  

---

Set by Lady!

His grip loosened automatically at Greengrass' words because - he wasn't violent. Not a violent person, at least. He did not usually take joy in hurting anyone, even if he was not particularly passionate about the work he did. But Greengrass' words stung for just that reason: they were untrue in a way that he could not disapprove, both to Greengrass andto himself. He was being violent. He didn't look sick—physically, in any case, because his illness was not one with visible symptoms. He couldn't say Greengrass was wrong, because that would require explaining why he was.

"Don't pretend like you know anything about being sick," he said, shoving the man backwards. He stepped forward to keep a close distance between them, but he didn't touch him. Not yet. "If you had any sense, you'd be worried about helping me find the ingredients. I don't want to hurt you," he explained, despite having hurt him multiple times.

---

  

---

Darrow shoved him backwards and Ford's shoulders hit the shelf behind him. Something above his head clattered down to the floor with a loud noise that made him wince instinctively, but — this was still good. Darrow advancing towards him meant Darrow was getting farther from his wand. Every step away from the wand leveled the playing field further, and while Darrow still obviously had the upper hand physically, Ford was far more in control emotionally.

"You keep saying that," he pointed out. "You don't want to hurt me, and you want my help. But —" he rolled his eyes towards the side that Darrow had just hit him, to indicate what he was sure was at least a red mark on his temple. "You're not following through very well, and you still haven't told me what you're doing. So either you're lying, or —" he paused, for a moment realizing that perhaps this was a dangerous tactic, because — well, the next thing he said might be right — but it was too late to pull back now. "— you're losing it."

  

---

Set by Lady!

He did keep saying that. He didn't want to hurt him. He did want—no, need—his help. He wasn't lying. And—

He was losing it.

"And what if I was?" he asked, his voice ominously low as he took another step into Greengrass' personal space. He could have reached out, grabbed a hold of his collar again or even yanked him by those curls, but he didn't. He hunched over just slightly but enough to be noticeable, as if preparing to pounce any moment. "What would you do about it?"

---

The following 1 user Likes Billy Darrow's post:1 user Likes Billy Darrow's post
   Fortitude Greengrass

---

Oh, no. This had been a bad idea, because Darrow was unhinged, and pushing him might have gotten him to forget about his wand but now it had triggered something else. Ford didn't like the way the other man's voice had dropped, or the way he'd hunched his shoulders. A thrill of fear ran through him and he had to fight the impulse to actually shudder. Darrow hadn't done anything yet, he told himself. This might be another level of bluffing, like pointing his wand at him without any intention of firing a hex. The only thing that was holding them here was Ford's supposed confidence, so he couldn't let it waver now, no matter how unsettling this was.

"If you are, you'd better untie me," Ford said. He hadn't even really considered the words until they'd left his mouth and he was shocked by his own temerity, but if he was going to keep pushing in the hopes of getting through to the other side of this it was really the only place left to escalate. Hopefully his voice wasn't wavering as he spoke — he felt like the words were coming from someone else and he couldn't have really said for sure. "Because you're definitely going to need my help to get through this."

The moment after he said it seemed to stretch on for eternity. There was no way this was going to work, but he couldn't back down now. He was committed to this. Fighting the urge to swallow a lump that had risen in his throat, Ford raised his bound arms and thrust them into what little space was left between the two of them, like a challenge.

  

---

Set by Lady!

He was losing it—his sanity, his personality, his sense of morality and ability to figure out what would and would not affect him come tomorrow—but he wasn't losing his paranoia, which only worsened with each passing minute.

Billy barked out a laugh; it was high-pitched and broken by short, raspy inhales, and was laced with a hopelessness that he'd been holding in for some time now. "Untie you?" he asked, like it was simultaneously the funniest and most preposterous thing he'd ever heard. He laughed again, this time more solid, but his expression had slipped into one of unquestionable concern and suspicion.

"So you can what? Run away? Hit me back?!" he said, louder than he'd ever spoken before and spooking himself with the sudden echo. "Why should I think you'd want to help me? I tackled you, chased you and disarmed you, put a spell on you and tied you up. You probably think I'm - I'm..." His expression crumbled then, and tears began to flow freely down his face, but his expression was not sad—it was pure, hateful anger. Only the anger was not directed at Greengrass however it appeared outwardly, but himself.

"—but I'm not," he continued, his words quicker and a little more frantic. He was speaking to himself again. "I'm not a monster, but I can't untie you, because everyone will think I'm a monster, and I can't—" His words broke with a sob, and his shoulders slumped.

---

The following 1 user Likes Billy Darrow's post:1 user Likes Billy Darrow's post
   Fortitude Greengrass

---

Ford had to struggle not to wince at the laughter, which surprised him with how sudden and sharp it was. That couldn't possibly be good, laughter. He was realizing just how far in over his head he'd accidentally gotten himself by continuing to push Darrow, because now he had pushed him far enough that he didn't even know where they were anymore. Yes, Darrow's wand was forgotten, but for a moment while he yelled that honestly seemed like the least of Ford's worries. Magic was one thing, but at least it was a known thing — Darrow himself was an unknown, and that was dangerous because Ford didn't know what he was going to do.

And if that was what he was thinking before Darrow started crying, the tears only made it worse. At first Ford was only confused by them. He thought maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him (impossible: Darrow was only a foot or so away, so he couldn't have mistaken it for anything else) or that there might have been some other motivation behind them than what might have been the case when a normal person cried (possible, but: did Darrow have any motivation behind anything he did? presumably, but Ford had yet to discover it). It wasn't until Darrow finished talking and let out that sob that it really fully hit Ford: he'd just made Darrow cry.

He was a little ashamed of himself, despite everything. Yes, Darrow had tackled him and chased him and taken his wand. Yes, he'd tied him up and cast some as-yet-unidentified magic on him. Yes, he kept making threatening comments and was currently sort of holding Ford hostage. And yes, he had obviously had quite a bit of internal stuff going on before Ford had said anything; it wasn't like this had come out of nowhere and he'd been twitchy from the beginning of their interactions. Still, the fact remained. Ford had just bullied another man until he cried, and now, despite everything else, he felt vaguely responsible for this.

"You're not a monster," Ford agreed, voice much softer than it had been at any previous point in their conversation. He couldn't have said, in the moment, whether this was part of some strategy to get out of this situation by appealing to Darrow's need for validation — the need that he had just created, with his taunting — or whether it was a genuine effort to try and repair some of the damage he'd just done. Most of the conversation in the past ten minutes had been more instinct than strategy, anyway, and he'd only been rationalizing it and trying to plan after the fact — which made him even more ashamed of himself, because it implied that maybe deep down he was a bully, and all it took to bring that out in him was a sufficient amount of pressure. (To be fair, a significant amount of pressure, but — still).

"No one's going to think that," he continued, gently reassuring. "I'm going to help you. It's going to be alright."

The following 1 user Likes Fortitude Greengrass's post:1 user Likes Fortitude Greengrass's post
   Billy Darrow

---

Set by Lady!

He wasn't sure how long had passed between the time he'd started crying and when Greengrass spoke, and he probably should have been more worried about what was happening in that time, but he'd risen his hands to press the base of his palm against his wet eyes as he continued to sob. He was not sure why exactly he was crying—of course, the thought that he was being a monster did not come with good feelings, but there was more. More that went beyond this exchange, beyond this entire encounter, beyond the last seventy-two hours spent without his potion. He did not want to live like this anymore, but - but this was his life. This is who he was. He was the healer with a potion problem, one he'd indirectly caused by being stupid and way too confident, and now he was - a criminal, plain and clear by definition.

He continued to cry through Greengrass' words, his his hands slipped from his face and his sobs softened just enough to hear the words the other man spoke. He blinked rapidly until the blurry outline of shoulders and a head of curls became Greengrass again, and he looked... almost sincere. His expression was soft and his eyes were big and brown and a little confused-looking, and he hated it because it only made him feel worse.

"Don't," he choked. Don't be nice, don't try to help, don't say anything that would make this even heavier on his heart, because he didn't need to focus on his existential crisis anymore when he had a clear goal in mind. "I need - I need it. I need my ingredient. It'll - make it better, I promise. I'm not - not a monster." He would feel better—he always did. But looking around the room, it was so big and nothing was organized like it was in an apothecary or hospital cabinet, and he had no idea what to do.

He looked around, his head stopping as he glanced over his shoulder. Yes—yes. That's it. He needed it. "My wand," he murmured, not to Greengrass and not to himself, but to the universe, because it made sense. He turned around and started towards it.

---

  

---

Ford was finding himself nodding, not because he believed Darrow necessarily but because it seemed like a reassuring thing to do — until Darrow mentioned his wand. Ford's eyes widened, brought back to the situation at hand abruptly. The situation being not that Darrow was crying and needed someone to get him through this, but that Darrow was the aggressor here and that Ford was at his mercy and had been actively trying to distract him from his wand. Of course Ford had had one eye on it this whole time, so he knew exactly where Darrow was headed when he turned around. Before he could fully think through the consequences of his actions, Ford surged forward and thrust his foot out, hitting Darrow's wand and causing it to roll under the set of cabinets that Darrow had just been sifting through a moment ago.

He froze, eyebrows raised as though he were as surprised by this turn of events as he imagined Darrow would be.

  

---

Set by Lady!

He was not a monster—he'd told himself that much upward of ten times already—but he was desperate. He would get his wand, summon the ingredient with a summoning spell, and he'd be able to figure out where the ingredients for the potion he needed for Greengrass were. The despair had faded off of his face as he leaned down to grab the wand, because finally he had a solution, but then—a foot flew out under his hand, and his wand went flying somewhere that, upon inspection, was totally out of reach.

The anger simmered again, bubbled up inside him as he returned to his standing position, and then he turned around to face Greengrass, his cheeks red from anger in a way they hadn't before, and he stepped forward. With pure, unbridled rage he reached up and grabbed a fistful of Greengrass' hair and yanked his head backwards so he was forced to stare up at the ceiling.

"I - I - I," he stuttered, his chest shaking and his lip quivering again. He didn't want to cry again, but if he did this time it wouldn't be from despair, not from the fear of being a monster or hurting Greengrass, but frustration and anger. "I - I just want my ingredient. And you - you won't let me." His voice cracked again, and he gave Greengrass' hair a tug, gripping it by the root.

And then, he broke again.

"Why wouldn't you let me?" he asked, letting his hair go but shoving him away. "WHY?" he screamed.

---

  

---

Ford watched the wand roll under the edge of the cabinet, and then before he could look back at Darrow to see how he'd reacted, his head was getting pulled backwards. Fuck! Darrow pulling his hair hurt, and though it was hardly the first thing Darrow had done to hurt him Ford had been able to anticipate the others. Even getting punched in the face hadn't been that bad, because he'd expected it, but this caught him entirely off guard and ow! When Darrow let go and shoved him away Ford was more disoriented than he would have expected. He reached up instinctively to put a hand on his head, except that his hands were still tied together and he couldn't do anything with them. He stumbled a few steps and tried to regain his balance. He couldn't see straight for a minute, and had to blink several times to try and bring Darrow back into focus.

"I'm going to help you," he said, raising his voice but only so that he could be heard over Darrow's breakdown. He wondered for a second if there was any chance Darrow might believe knocking his wand under the cabinet had been an accident, but decided against it. It wasn't as though they were helpless, the pair of them, because Darrow still had Ford's wand somewhere, but he wasn't going to point that out if the other man had forgotten about it. "I am. We'll get your ingredient. Just — just calm down. Breathe, alright? I'm going to help you."

  

---

Set by Lady!

Calm down? Calm down? Nothing about Greengrass made sense, because who claimed that they were trying to be helpful but took away the most helpful tool he had? His wand—how was he going to get back his wand?

"You're - not making any sense. You're tricking me," he accused, reaching up to point his wand at the man, only remember that he didn't have it back which... seemed like an alarming loss of his short-term memory, but he didn't have time to unpack that. "Prove you mean to help me. Do something helpful."

---

The following 1 user Likes Billy Darrow's post:1 user Likes Billy Darrow's post
   Fortitude Greengrass

---

"I'm not," Ford responded, which was — maybe the truth? Honestly, he'd lost the plot himself a bit at this point, so it wasn't surprising that Darrow was having trouble following. He had been purposefully goading Darrow into getting riled up, so he had been tricking him then — but that was before he'd cried and Ford had sort of started to feel sorry for him — which was before he'd instinctively kicked his wand under the cabinet — which was before Darrow had pulled his fucking hair. It was all a bit of a mess, was the point, and Ford didn't know what they were doing any more than Darrow did.

Do something helpful? This seemed like a good direction to follow whether he was tricking Darrow or not, because he could not expect anything to happen that would benefit the both of them while Darrow was in this state of mind, but — what was he supposed to do when first, his hands were still bound in front of him, and second, Darrow still hadn't told him what it was he was actually looking for? Aside from asphodel and boomslang skin, but that was so long ago Ford wasn't even sure if it was still relevant, and it had been years since he'd last handled boomslang skin, anyway, because it wasn't the sort of thing that regularly came up in potions class. Except no, it hadn't been years; Noble had some in his workshop and Ford had nearly knocked it off the shelf with his elbow the last time he'd been coming in to talk to his brother about something, he remembered suddenly. So he did know what he was looking for, actually, but with all of the chaos he hadn't stopped to actually think about it until now.

Ford bit his lip. This was, maybe, not the right kind of helpful, because he still didn't want Darrow to make whatever potion he was going to try and give to Ford. Breakdown or not, guilt or not, he wasn't about to willingly ingest a potion when he didn't know what it was or what it did. But he didn't have anything else that came to mind, so...

"I think that's boomslang skin behind you," he said, with a nod towards the shelf. "You looked right past it before."

  

---

Set by Lady!