A Second Chance

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He didn't think as he was cooking. He just went through the motions without really knowing what he was preparing, or where he was in the stages of cooking. Despite this, he eventually had prepared a meal. It was nothing special, it was that old pub favourite of bangers and mash, along with a quite bland portion of various steamed vegetables. It was enough though, and by some miracle, Firefly had actually made enough for both of them. It had been in no way intentional, of course.

"Dinner is served, your highness." He growled up the stairs, apparently being a little bit civil now that he had finally calmed down. He was still in no way friendly, as proven by that rather sarcastic comment of his, but it was a start. Somewhere in him, he knew that Mist was not a bad man, and it appeared that this part was reaching out a little bit. There was no telling when it would be silenced again, but for the time being the ever so slightly nicer side of Mike was showing itself.
 
Mist was very hesitant as he came down the stairs, suspicious of Firefly. He hadn't liked the sarcasm at all. It made him even more wary, and he was moving very cautiously as he entered the kitchen to get his dinner. It smelled good, but he didn't say as much. He had intended to just be quiet and eat while he could, but his stomach ruined that plan with another loud rumble.

"Thanks..." he said quietly to Firefly, trying not to anger him again. The man had truly scared Mist earlier, and now the young man was clearly walking on eggshells around him.
 
It was a very sensible move on Mist's part. Although for the timebeing Firefly was being fairly normal and generally relatively well mannered, there was no telling how long this would last for. Currently, he was sitting at the small kitchen table, eating his food in a surprisingly dainty manner. He might have been a brute in emotion and mind, but he could at least function in polite society. He was an odd man, and that was putting it lightly. His persona when dealing with criminals was entirely different to his true personality - or had been - somewhere down the line the two had fused, and since then he had been more than unstable, as the two sides to his personality continued to fight for dominance.

"You're welcome." He muttered gruffly, not looking up from his plate as he spoke. At least he made sure not to speak with his mouthful, that was nice of him. "Sit down. I don't want you getting crumbs all over the house." He was hardly house proud, but he still had his rules.
 
Mist sat down at directed, taking his own plate and starting to eat. He was trying very, very hard not to attack his food. The fact of the matter was, though, that he was practically starving. Prison food was horrible, and considering how he hadn't been able to see, he had barely been eating enough food to get by these past six years. That was the main reason he looked like such a stick. Sure he'd always been a bit underweight, but it had bordered on unhealthy during his time in prison. He'd actually been sent to the hospital a couple times in the beginning, before the guards were told to make sure he got at least some food in him at mealtimes.

His efforts to not wolf down the food failed miserably after a few bites. He just couldn't hold himself back, not when the stuff actually tasted good. His portion of the food did not last long once he started eating it that quickly, and he didn't leave a single crumb on his plate.
 
It wasn't surprising that the silence in which they ate was pretty damn awkward, the only sounds that of them chewing and shovelling food into their faces. It was pretty unpleasant, but for the time being Firefly didn't complain about it. An hour ago he probably would have leapt over the table and throttled Mist, but at the moment he was just in a sour mood, rather than a maniacal one. It must have been a welcome relief to Mist, and it was almost that for Firefly. He wasn't as tense as he had been earlier, and thanks to that the stress headache was beginning to clear up.

Once he was finished, Mike placed his plate back on the counter, and took it upon himself to take advantage of Mist. "You can wash up, it's only fair." And with these simple words, off he went into his living room, where he happily flicked on the news. It just so happened that a couple of younger, more virile cops had been waiving speeding citations for lovely ladies that were a tad promiscuous. It was not a massive story, and the perpetrators had been unceremoniously discharged, but it did lead to Firefly hurling the remote into a wall, once again back to his fuming self.
 
"Yeah, sure..." Mist answered, though he wasn't sure if Firefly heard him or not. The man had left the room pretty quickly, and Mist heard the sound of the television being turned on before he started to watch the dishes. It had been a while since he'd had to do this, but it wasn't exactly rocket science. He actually enjoyed it a bit. It was relaxing, though that relaxation was shattered when he heard the sound of something being thrown against a wall.

He quickly shut off the water and hurried into the living room, seeing the broken remote and a fuming Firefly. That didn't bode well at all. Mist wasn't sure if he should say something or save himself by staying quiet. He didn't like Firefly being this angry, though. It was terrifying.

"Is everything all right?" he asked hesitantly.
 
"Of course it's not fucking alright!" Firefly snapped without thinking, leaping out of his chair in one swift and somehow menacing movement. "Even the police are on their side! It's everywhere." His eyes were wide, almost bursting from their sockets as he manically glared around the room. He'd finally cracked, or had at least made a great leap much further to the side of insanity. He had always trusted in the law, and this story was enough to shatter that trust, causing a great rift in his lifes beliefs.

"Stay here. Follow me, and I'll kill you." He went over to the chair in which he had dumped his coat, struggling to pull on the gloves which channeled his power. He was shaking with his rage, and it took him several minutes to get his fingers in the right places.
 
Mist didn't quite know what had triggered this, but he wasn't about to let Firefly go and start murdering the police. That was definitely not okay by the law, and Mist was very, very sure he'd end up in prison again if Firefly got arrested. He certainly wouldn't be allowed to be on his own, and the local law enforcement didn't like Mist. He'd definitely be arrested right along with Firefly...

"Calm the fuck down!" he ordered. "Are you nuts? You're not going anywhere when you're this pissed off. Just calm down and think." He hoped Firefly wasn't going to hurt him, but Mist wasn't about to let the man leave. He even went and stood at the door, blocking the man's path.
 
The television still carried on projecting light and sound into the room as Firefly pictured the wonderful sight and sound of those corrupt bastards burning. He was lost in his own little world, but he had to get going. They'd be leaving the office soon, he needed to get them all in one place, or else too many of them might survive. That could not happen. They were all evil, all terrible people that deserved nothing less than death.

"Out of my way." Firefly growled as he strode towards the door, his fist tightening as it became engulfed in a well controlled, white hot flame. Without any thought of the consequences, he drew this fist back, aiming for Mist's gut. It was a cheap shot, but he knew it was a sure way to cause an immense amount of pain in the boy. He would get him out of the way, and off he'd fly in his car. The station was not far away, he'd be there in minutes, and not long after his arrival, there would be nothing left of the force. Justice would be served.
 
Mist saw the flame cover Firefly's hand, but he didn't have enough time to react to it. He was nailed in the gut, the punch and the heat of the flame causing him a great deal of pain. A choked gasp escaped him and he fell to the floor at the door, smoke rising from his burnt shirt. His skin was also burned, and it was already blistering.

He looked up at Firefly, his vision swimming from the buildup of pained tears. There was no way in hell he'd let those fall, though. Mist's pride might be severely damaged, but he still had some left to protect.

"You can't go..." he forced out, blocking the door from his place on the floor. "Think..."
 
Firefly was surprised by the strength Mist showed, and had to respect his courage. Despite this, he still wanted to go and decimate those bastards at the police station. "Come with me." He said, for once showing some odd sort of respect towards him. It was a turning point in their relationship, though of course it was unlikely that any good would come of this. Firefly was still in a terrible state of rage, even if at last it was no longer directed at Mist.
 
Mist shook his head, his breathing harsh from pain. Every movement he made was making his burned midsection hurt. He couldn't let Firefly go and starting torching cops, though. Even if it cost him his life.

"I'm not going back to prison because you're insane," he said, his voice sounding as pained as he looked. "I told you I'd rather die, and you're going to have to kill me if you want to leave..." At least then it wouldn't matter to him if Firefly got arrested.
 
Those words struck home. Firefly was still very much in a crazed state, but he paused for a long moment, his eyes taking on a glassy quality that was almost catatonic. This dumb expression lasted a short while, before he finally spoke, "You think I'm insane?" No one had ever said that to him before, and it kind of freaked him out a little bit. In such a raw state of emotion as he was, he was quite naked to these words, and as such, responded to them honestly, rather than with the bravado with which he usually protected himself.

Fire still danced around his fingers, but the solid anger had flown from him, leaving him quite deflated. It was an odd situation to be in, for both parties concerned, though it was of course Mist that was the one having to deal with the potential danger involved.
 
"Yeah," Mist answered, looking up at Firefly. "I'm very familiar with what it looks like when someone snaps like you have. You're talking about murdering police. You're insane." He didn't care what scandal they might have been involved in. Murdering cops was a huge no-no by the law. Firefly would get life in prison for sure, and Mist couldn't go back there himself.

He could see that he was finally getting through to the man, but he was still in danger. Those flames were still on the man's hand, and therefore he could still cause Mist a lot more harm than he already had. The burn on his stomach felt more painful now than it did a few seconds ago, the skin screaming at him for some cold water or a burn-soothing ointment.
 
For once, Firefly actually listened, not that he was particularly likely to admit that any of this had happened, later in the day when he had come down from his slightly odd psychotic break. Even so, the effects of what Mist said were quite powerful for the time being. The flames gracing his hands began to dwindle, eventually sputtering out completely. Firefly turned - thought about it for a second - turned back around, and took another swing at Mist, though it was a bit of a halfhearted effort.

Now a little more sober, Firefly walked back down the short hallway, returning to the kitchen, not that there was anywhere for him to run here. He just sat back down again, slamming his head into the table, where it stayed. He wasn't unconscious, but he kind of wished he was.
 
Mist got punched in the side of his head, half-hearted though the punch was. It was still enough to knock him out, considering his current condition. He went limp on the floor, still effectively blocking the door. That was good, at least. Also good that Firefly was no longer trying to leave. If he was still intent on going, Mist would have been in trouble. Instead, he was just burned and unconscious.
 
Thankfully, it wasn't long until Firefly had calmed himself to be of some use to Mist. For once in his life he showed some kindness, actually feeling a little bit guilty about burning the guy. He had not undertaken a miraculous overnight change though, he was still in shock. Some changes might stick, with any luck, but it was difficult to say how large or narrow this window of change might be.

Moving from the kitchen, the man headed over to Mist, and quite unceremoniously threw the younger man over his shoulder, carrying him up the stairs to the spare room in which he was staying. Once Mist was safely on the bed, Firefly went to the bathroom, where he found a hand towel, which he promptly soaked in cool water. It was a crude way of helping, but he soon laid it across the blistered stomach, in an effort to minimise any further damage. He left soon after, of course, not prepared to be around when Mist woke up.
 
When Mist woke up, he was a bit surprised at finding himself on a bed. The washcloth was an added shock, and he realized that Firefly had actually been nice for a moment. Shocking. Mist was beginning to write the guy off as being an insane asshole.

He started to sit up, but his burned middle greatly protested the movement. It forced him back down with a groan, and he moved the washcloth off himself to see the damage. It certainly wasn't pretty, all blistered and red. It looked about as bad as it felt, which worried Mist. Would he have to go to a hospital? And would it be permanently scarring?
 
He was definitely an asshole, and he was definitely insane. The good thing was, Firefly actually seemed to be realising this now, perhaps negating the insanity part. He was certainly less psychotic now. Even so, there was still no way of telling how long this would last, or what would happen if and when Firefly returned to his 'normal' state of mind.

For the time being, Firefly went off to find the small first aid kit he kept in the house. He went to the room in which Mist was kept, not daring to go any further than the doorframe, "Here. Don't let those burns get infected." He threw the bag onto the bed, not really aiming very well, most likely hitting the poor guy on the head. But, it was better than it had been before.
 
Mist was indeed hit in the head by the first aid kit, and he glared over at the idiot who threw it so carelessly. Yup. Firefly was definitely an asshole. But at least he seemed a little more clear-headed now.

"Do you really think I know what to do about these burns?" he asked, frowning. "I'm sure you're more experience with burn treatment than I am. Why don't you actually do your job and be a decent partner?"
 
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