Now, what have we here?
...
It would seem like absolutely nothing to most people, actually. But what we in fact have is a small, invisible faery bent on death and destruction. Okay, maybe not death. But maybe severe injury. Wick is lurking in the theatre's dark corners, hovering near the ceiling, sneaking down hallways... basically creeping around quiet as a mouse while he seeks out Dave.

The truce has now been cancelled.

Oh dear.

Dave is in a good place for Wick to harm him, actually. He's in the catwalks, hanging and rehanging lights. He finally got to design a show instead of just being a tech, and he's being a bit compulsive about it.

Not to mention he's having to do this himself. It involves a lot of running back and forth between the lights and the house and the booth. He's getting a bit tired, getting a bit annoyed, but overall feeling thoroughly pleased with himself.

And he's too preoccupied to think about Vi. This is good.

Wick grinned, keeping his nasty giggling for later as he began undoing every possible attachment, beginning with plugs. As a rule, he shied away from electrical things (because he's learned the hard way why you don't poke things into electrical outlets) but for this he could make an exception.

That's... not good. While the lights are directly attached to the poles, the safety cables and electric plugs also help to keep the lights from falling onto innocent people down below.

Dave, not seeing this, heads back to the booth and starts flicking switches to check what he just did...

"Shit..." The lights aren't coming on. He comes back to check on them. Thank heavens these are lights he can hang on the catwalk, without having to resort to a ladder or a lift.

"What the fuck?"

He knows he plugged these in...

And now Wick allows himself a giggle, as he hovers somewhere over to Dave's left. This is just the beginning. He brought some ,..we'll call them 'toys', with him today. Among these are some of the mini-firecrackers that the girls introduced him to.
He flies down and sows them carefully on the floor of the catwalk, and then just waits.

... that's a familiar sound.

Dave groans.

"I thought we had a truce."

He starts to plug the lights back in, working his way along the catwalk, muttering uncomplimentary things about a certain little faery...

BANG!

He starts and falls against the railing of the catwalk. It sways.

"Shit! Are you trying to kill me?"

Wick doesn't answer. That could be a good thing or a bad thing,...
or he could be standing on the floor, rapidly untying and then tying Dave's shoelaces together, and doesn't want Dave to notice.

I'm going to take a wild guess and say that that's a bit of a bad thing.

Just a bit.

Dave steadies himself and looks at the catwalk ahead of him, in order to save himself the startlement that stepping on another... whatever... without warning would cause.

It backfires, because looking at the floor ahead of him means he isn't looking at his feet and he trips and falls and lands on several of the firecrackers and it's loud and the catwalks swaying a lot, now.

Wick just laughs at him. This is fun.
He wouldn't be able to push Dave off the edge of the catwalk if he tried - and he would like to try, but that would be stupid. He's just not strong enough. He's been learning a new trick that might help, though. Ever wonder how faeries lead people into all manner of dangerous situations?
Well, it's not all charisma and 'please's.

Wick lands on the catwalk, well out of Dave's reach, but right at eye level.
"Hello," he grins nastily. There's a very peculiar glow to his eyes.

Remember how Dave is incredibly susceptible to magic?

Yeah. Trouble.

He scowls, at the moment, though. "What the hell happened to the truce?"

Okay, so he's not dating Violet anymore. Does Wick know that? Does it matter?

"I changed my mind," he shrugged, still grinning. When he next spoke, his voice had an amiable, best-friend, wouldn't-hurt-a-fly tone, with a very strong accent of magic - the hypnotic kind.
"How 'bout we find out how long you can hang over the side without letting go?" he smiled, nodding to the railing.

Dave's expression goes blank. It's kind of eerie, actually, considering that he's usually thoroughly emotive about something. And he rolls off the catwalk and just barely grabs the edge.

... I'm going to say this is a bad thing.

Or maybe a very bad thing.

Theatre ceilings are high.

"How long do you think you can hang on?" Wick asks, the sweet, friendly tone gone as if it had never been there. He fluttered to the top rail, for a better vantage point. "..And if yu can't hang on, do you think you'll splatter when you hit the floor? I wonder..."

Dave swore. Loudly. And then he started attempting to pull himself back onto the catwalk, which swayed and made things difficult and oh my, check out the adrenaline rush.

"You little fucker! You are trying to kill me!"

"Mayyybe," he snickered. He swooped down, just long enough to swipe his nails across the fingers of Dave's left hand, then returned to his perch.

"Really, though," he went on, in a mock-serious tone,"Do you think you'll splatter? Or just your head?... Or you could just break your neck, but that's still a long way to ffall..."

Dave attempted to ignore him and climb back up onto the catwalk. Except for he had no way to push up with his feet, and while he's not out of shape, he can't pull his entire weight up with his arms.

He just tried, and missed grabbing the other side of the catwalk and almost fell because he wasn't holding with both hands for a moment.

No breath to spare for swearing, now.

Wick's watching, and quite enjoying himself. Every so often, between cackling, he'll offer a useless tip, usually involving a a trampoline or a net and diving board.

"That's almost a minute now!" he beamed. "Let's see how much longer you can go, huh?"

Dave is getting tired. No. Dave is reaching exhaustion. Constant strain for a full minute, plus adrenaline, is not good. The adrenaline only helps so far...

His left hand slips and he grabs on again desperately.

"Shi-it.."

"Hmmm..."
The struggle is getting boring. And while Wick isn't bound to Violet anymore, he's still got (barely!) enough of a tie to keep him from completely disregardng an order from her. His eyes glow again, and he starts using that charming voice.
"Grab onto that bar, there. Pull yourself in under it."
There's something to be said for mind over matter,... hopefully.

Dave's face goes blank again, and he reaches and he pulls and he almost makes it... At least the fear is (temporarily) gone and he's not quite so certain that he's going to die.

He tries again. Perhaps he'll keep trying until he cannot any more?

Perhaps he will.

"Pull yourself up." It's a command, now. "Do it."

And through some kind of superhuman--or would that be inhuman--effort, he does, and lies on the catwalk, breathing heavily and not moving. His arms feel like particularly overcooked macaroni and his vision is going spotty.

This does not stop him from, now that he can't see Wick's eyes, flipping the small faery off.

"Hm? What's that you said? You want to try it again?" Wick said innocently, flitting from one edge of the catwalk to the other, but always out of Dave's reach. "Maybe you think you can last longer this time?"

Dave doesn't answer, and he doesn't look at Wick, either. He really, really, really doesn't want to do that again.

Mm, kind of solid catwalk. Except for the whole thing that he can see the house, because of the kind of grating it's made of. It's not a reassuring sight, because it's awfully far away.

"Heh. Thought not."
Wick considers his options at this point. He hasn't even done any lasting harm yet - hwo could he possibly leave? ...But the only thing he can think of is giving Dave some nice, waking nightmares. And while he's been practicing that nasty trick as well, to the point that he doesn't immediately collapse once he's used it, it might turn out to be just a waste of energy.

Why's that? It worked awfully well last time...

Dave doesn't move and concentrates on breathing and on resting and, well, basically on recovering from the recent ordeal. He wants off the catwalks now.

"I guess that was frightening enough for you." He smirked.
No,...no, he wasn't finished yet.
"Hey. Lookit me. I'm talking to you."

"Fuck off already," Dave muttered tiredly.

He wishes he could hit Wick with a broom again, except there isn't one within reach and he's not sure he could lift it.

Also, he wants to put Wick in a jar and drop him in the LaCroix. Think that'd teach him?

If he made it out of it alive, no.

Wick ventured close enough to look Dave in the eyes. He had a very unpleasant smirk on his face - I wonder why...
"But I'm not done with you yet."

"Oh, come on, don't you have other people to torment?"

And Dave makes the mistake of glaring at Wick... no, wait, his face has gone blank again.

What a bad day, don't you agree?

Dave seems to be having a lot of those lately.

Wick stares back, concentrating very, very hard... He remembers what happened last time he tried this, so he's going to be sure to do it properly this time. Mostly.
Dave may find later that that little mental container his fears are kept in has been left just slightly more open than it usually is.

"... oh shi..."

He never did finish that bit.

Nightmares are nasty things. And there are even more things to have nightmares about than there were last time.

Poor, poor Dave.

In no way does Wick feel pity for Dave.
He just laughs, "Idiot," and, after watching with a smile for a few moments, flutters away.
Ahhh. Now wasn't that fun?