Edwin A. Al Hattal is not a violent man by nature. Sure, he could punch an idiot or two or, you know, knife someone stupid enough to try to harm him in any way. He does throw a lot of things against various surfaces like walls, floors, people's faces... But it is all because of his – admittedly – crazy ability to hear said things talk. So, no, really, violence? Not his thing at all. And this whole “kill all the big bad and evil black magic wilding sorcererhumanboth”-thing? Not his cup of tea. Really, he is fine with keeping them locked in cells forever. They have things called justice and laws for them. Things he happily enforces every day of every week all year long. Which means that he does not really enjoy things at HQ lately, where some people, loud people, are casually strolling around ordering some folks to be murdered without so much as a trial. People like Cormag, for example. Gods, he hates the guy. Gives him the creeps.

Because of said people, Ed has decided to take it upon himself to antagonize as many of them as humanly possible. He's on a fucking crusade, alright. A day is not a good day if he doesn't manage to at least ruffle the feathers of one of them, one way or the other.

He is going to take them down, one asshole at a time. Starting with Keith K. McLaren, whose office door he is currently standing in front of. About to get in unannounced, ready to rattle the man up.
He knocks on the door for good measure and then barges in without waiting for an answer, a grin on his face. Keith doesn't even look up from whatever work he is currently doing. Bummer. But Edwin won't let that stop him. He plops down in one of the chairs facing the big oak desk, crossing one leg casually over the other, and cheerfully greets the office occupant :

“Hi there Double K, what's up? Thought I would check on you since you haven't come out of your office in like... Forever. Do you live in here or something?”

Keith does not look up and even takes the time to finish up whatever sentence he is writing before answering.

“Some of us actually have work to do, Axel,” he deadpans, never sparing a glance to the newcomer.

Edwin's grin widens at the mention of his second name. Keith, Double K as Ed calls him to annoy him, ever the polite fool, never uses Edwin's real name as a show of contempt.
The other man is a workaholic but Ed knows that the frontier between the man's interests in life – getting rid of any and all kind of black magic wielder – and his work is a circle more than it is a line. So. Yeah, he probably does not even notice that he lives in his own office about 80% of the time.

“Oooor, maybe I'm just that much better at my own job than you. You know, not actually wanting everyone dead does help to lighten my workload,” Ed shots back.

“I won't dignify this with an answer,” is all Keith replies.

Alright, playing hard to get. Always playing hard to get actually, Double K is not easily riled up, especially since he knows this is the reason for the policeman's presence. Time for a change of tactic.
Edwin leans forward in his seat, one elbow propped up on his knee to support his head while he reaches out to poke the paperweight sitting on the corner of the desk. A bland, plain paperweight shaped like a dull square. Could Keith get any more boring than this?
Ed scowls as he pokes the thing several times, each getting it closer and closer to the edge of the desk, closer to its fall. As he is about to deliver the final blow, Keith sighs and looks up from his work, glaring at the man in front of him.
Sweet victory at last.

“If you make it fall, I will personally shove it up your throat so far even that boyfriend of yours won't be able to get it out,” he warns.

Edwin stares in disbelief.

“What the hell do you think we do, exactly?”

“Don't know, don't care.”

“Geez, you need to go out more often. Might even help you remember how to smile.”

The policeman can even picture it from here, how Keith's cheeks would squeak like hinges needing oil out of disuse. He snorts at the mental picture, earning an annoyed glare from across the desk.

“Oh come on”, Ed prompts “you're even broodier than usual. What is up with you today? Didn't get enough blood on your morning oats?”

Disgusting.
McLaren sighs and reclines back in his seat, the slight frown on his face the only real show of emotion since Edwin decided to start today's peeving campaign.

“Cross' bastards got a couple of Orpheo agents, right in front of their kid and the kid's friend. Didn't get caught.”

Oh. Kids are quite often a sensitive matter for a lot of people, McLarens especially, with what happened to the Orphanage and all. But still, Edwin can see where this is going.

“When they do get caught, they will be put on trial. Their actions do not grant us the power of life or death over them.”

“It is not about life or death or any godlike powertrip you may think some of us are on. It is about making sure that they can never harm anyone ever again.”

“You'll never wipe them out completely. Some will remain, maybe some kids whose parents you decided to have removed. What happens when these kids grow up and decide to enforce their own revenge, just like you are doing now?”

Keith crosses his arms across his chest, lips pressed in a thin line, while he looks at the other man.

“Then, we dispose of them too,” he softly answers after a pause.

Edwin closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly through his nose.

“And it never ends,” he says in a breath.

That little heart to heart was not how the policeman planned this encounter to go. As he ponders for a moment whether to keep pushing or not, he finally decides against it and stands up. He puts the paperweight back in place, a small peace offering for now, and looks back up to Keith who's been tracking the movements of his hand.

“Way to ruin the mood, Double K. I'll leave you to your brooding corner then, though I have to ask,” a small pause to allow the other man to interfere but he doesn't. Keith simply makes a small hand gesture to prompt him to keep going.
“How do you sleep at night knowing all the lives you took and all the lives you've ruined beyond that, in an endless circle of hate?”

Keith actually lets out a light, humorless laugh that is more a puff of air than anything else.

“I don't,” he answers.

Edwin lets his gaze linger on the other man for a few more seconds before turning on his heels and heading out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. He lets out a sigh after the closing click, not knowing that, on the other side of that door, Keith does exactly the same.



[Est-ce que je ship Ed et KK dans un univers alternatif où Kurt n'existe pas ? Peut-être.]