“Why, no, I haven’t,” you say. “You keep very much to yourself, Mr. Innovator. You’re quite the enigma.”
You’re similarly discomforted, but you can handle it, keep it under wraps. You’re very much surprised that he hasn’t reprimanded you for your bad behavior, but when you consider it, you realize that he is treating you like a guest. A new one, someone that he is attempting to treat politely as a normal person. And Innovator, for all his brilliance and abilities, does not do well with new, normal people. He might not actually want you around.
If it was this easy, you should have attempted something like this much sooner. You might end up bored out of your skull without someone like Innovator to give you the run around, but you reassure yourself that boredom is far better than finding that your normal paranoia has become a justified norm.
You take a large sip of tea. “If you like, I could leave. I’d simply hate to intrude, seeing as how you seem to be rather preoccupied tonight.”
You’re being a brat as well, but more in the direction of a child viciously celebrating his victory by kicking sand in his opponents face.
Why not. Why not just let him leave? You’re not going to get what you’d hoped for in inviting him here. You never get what you want. You didn’t get Scofflaw. You didn’t get to keep Life. You’ll never have Deadeye. It is evidently a universal constant that you never get to be anyone’s Most Important.
You can’t even get pleasant conversation out of Deadeye, let alone some form of stability.
You close your puzzle book and drum your fingertips on the cover, until it ignites in a puff of flame and smoke that burns itself out, the pages along with it.
“You were right about one thing,” you say, in that low, bitter tone that usually precedes what is, to you, days of mental anguish, and to him, just the annoyance of you being needy. “You’re not my Deadeye. Given the same situation, he wouldn’t pull this shit.”
You do want to attack him. You could. You could have him incapacitated and hidden, or even dead, before anyone began to suspect he was anywhere but his office.
But you don’t attack him. You just leave him. You retreat to your bedroom with a slam of the door, and sit with your back to the wall, head in your hands.