The Fallout iii

~ Vescovi looked like a different man. Standing in his cell, hands behind his back, he was a different person. Marx approached the triple-plated ballistic glass. He forced himself to see Vescovi as he is—bitter and angry—and not as he was.

“Do you know vampires do not use vervain?” Vescovi lifted his gaze to the vents above him. “We stamped out the plants like weeds. It always fascinated me the choice werewolves made to grow wolfsbane in flowerpots, tending to their weakness.”

When Vescovi looked at Marx, his eyes were hard. Marx could sense the other man’s grief, though he gave no voice to it. Suffering a loss of his own, one that left part of him forever lost, Marx could relate. Empathize with the internal agony Vescovi faced with each waking breath. Every time he closed his eyes. But even though Marx felt for him, he could not condone Vescovi’s action