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IC: WIll they?

I'm an Attention Whore

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Chris J. Canatsey
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IC: WIll they?

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freedom
Alfred pushed back from his computer chair, the plush leather having long since conformed to his body and it felt like he was leaving a second pair of skin as he peeled himself up. His red and bleary eyes stared at the computer monitor, glancing over at the picture frame to the right of the monitor hanging on the wall. He seemed to draw strength from gazing at it, as if to remind himself of what he was doing.

It was your standard photo frame, five different photo's surrounding a central picture. In one photo was a picture of Alfred and Dario enjoying a pretzel together from the New York trip, smiles on both their beaming faces. Would he ever forgive him, for the actions he was taking? Would he ever understand..? Alfred kisses two fingertips and places them against the photo, his eyes moving over to another photo containing the image of Alfred and Calli sitting in some beach chairs and flanked by rather attractive cabana boys. Would she miss him, if things take a dark turn, or would she just move one? Will she understand the motivations, the movements and the purpose? Or will she just condemn and be hurt?

Alfred pulls out from his desk a beer, popping the top off the wooden edge and tipping his head in salute to his dear friend. His eyes wander to the photo of Faith, feeling a sense of sadness overcome him. Would this gambit fail, and would he be forever separated from her? Would he not survive the week, let alone live to never see her grow up? Alfred's gaze drifts to the photo of his cousin Bree, the best one she's ever had in his mind from the 2008 Christmas card he never responded to. Would she approve or would she be angry and upset with him? Does she understand the stakes, or even what could occur should things be allowed to continue? Would he live one day to see her children grow and become beautiful in their own right?

He sips the beer, his eyes misting a bit. His gaze looks back to the final and largest picture in the frame, a photo taken of Gypsy as they danced at Fee's wedding. Alfred places a hand to his chest, as a heaviness sinking in his heart and soul. Does she support him, does he think what he's doing is right? Would she approve of his methods, would she still think fondly of him? He winces a bit, not looking forward to the scorn or look of sadness or pity in her eyes and wondering if he could steady his resolve to withstand her, and survive his own shame.

Alfred takes a deep breath and finishes his beer, tossing the empty glass bottle into his recycling bin. He walks with a steady gaze and opens his closet, whispering the soft muradas and tracing the sigal to open his own personal pocket realm. He pulls out all the necessary gear he was going to need for the trip, laying it on the bed. He speaks aloud, reaffirming his choice in attire almost ritualistically.

Black leather pants, shined and polished. "To hide my sins and fool my enemies."
Tap shoes with the trick heel to mask the sound. "To better dance with death."
Silk shirt, magenta in coloration. "To show my heart and hide my soul."
Pocketwatch attached to a stainless steel chain. "To always remember my place."
Stick of gum in the front pocket. "For emergencies."
Glitter for his clothing. "To blind my foes and fool my friends."
Sequined gold bowler cap. "Because you should always have fun and stay classy."

Alfred looks over everything, then turns to smile in the mirror. His grin slowly grows as he feels the warm comfort, the familiar touch of Fate. Filled with confidence, he poses and displays himself in the full length mirror. Hands on hips, hips cocked and that smug and self-assured smile slowly sliding its way on his face. "Oh darling, you look fabulous today." The lisp slides in naturally to his voice, a practiced trait after so many years. Alfred leans in and kisses the mirror, and makes a small wave.

"Pleasure to see you today Michael, let's go change the world. Shall we?"
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