Ransom Drysdale: Manipulation

Poker Face

"Yes I would." Ransom, answering the question of whether or not he would take it all back if he could. Yes, he was an entitled money hungry, greedy, brat. But he was also just scared.

Scared of not having anything to fall back on, of not having anything or anyone, of being broke. Alone. Opening up to people when his family was so callous and closed off and just as heinous.

The car is silent. Parked next to the bookstore, not uttering a word, they sit. Neither daring to move. This was Hermione's opportunity to come clean. Tell Ransom about her plan so farther down the road, she doesn't burn a bridge with him.

"Ransom." His eyes shifted from staring into space to meeting hers. The emerald green eyes greeting him with guilt, frustration, and compassion. "When we first talked on the phone I saw an opportunity."

She waits for him to respond, or move, do something. He tilts his head slightly to the right and takes a deep breath. "An opportunity?" Hermione nods and bites her lip, chewing on it nervously. Looking guiltier then before.

"I saw a story in you. Everything I told you just now I had observed these past few days, and through doing my research on you. I thought that I could turn you around, make you let your guard down, write a book about how I turned the sociopathic murderer into a decent human being."

He interrupts her. His voice husky, unwavering. He doesn't sound angry. Just, surprised. He didn't see her as the type to use someone for something. He figured she still wasn't, since she's coming clean. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I realized my idea wouldn't work. And I felt terrible for lying. There is a story here with you. But it's not the one I was planning on writing." Now he was truly captivated by what she was saying. More than before. "Why won't it work?" Egging her on. Wanting to hear everything she had to say. She trusted him. And he didn't even have to manipulate her into it.

Two days of being around her and he's already starting to see a difference in himself. He hated it. He was so used to having his guard up and being an asshole, that was his form of comfort. His arrogance had protected him. But for some reason, while she was around he couldn't pretend. He was himself. He was Hugh Ransom Drysdale. Not the sociopath, not the murder, nor the manipulator. Not even the complete jerk he pretended to be. He was just the scared young man that he was. Afraid to become an adult. Afraid of the world.

"I can't turn you into a good guy," a dramatic pause, "because you're already a good guy. I can't rid you of being a manipulative sociopathic murderer," another pause, "because you aren't any of those things. Yes you killed someone. Almost several but you're not a cold blooded killer. They were crimes of passion, of self preservation."

He feels himself opening up to her, being vulnerable, letting his walls crumble. And he's so used to being feared, having power, having rank, that's what he's after. He shoves it all back in and puts his game face back on. His poker face.

"You've read me like a book Hermione." He whispers, shyly, timid. Trying to act like he had just felt a few moments ago. It wasn't hard.

"What do you expect? I'm a writer." A moment passes. Soft chuckles fill the car. "So you're not mad?"

Almost sounding like a little kid. Hermione is an incredibly sweet girl, no doubt about it. "No, I'm not mad. At least you told me. If you don't mind me asking, what was the other story you said you could write."

"Who you really are. My time with you, getting to work with you, getting to know you. Making people see you for who you really are."

He scoffs. Letting it slip. She looks at him in confusion. Immediately coming up with a line that'll draw her in. "You really don't know me." She rolls her eyes. Letting out a comical laugh.

"I read you like a book Ransom." He nods his head in agreement and their serious faces turn into grins as they laugh together. They get out of the car and Ransom walks her to the store doors.

"Aren't you going home?"

"I am home." Ransoms smile turns to a bewildered look. "What do you mean?" She giggles at his reaction. He can't help but smile hearing her laugh.

Goddamn it. He was starting to actually like her. But no. No he wasn't. He would force himself not to. It's only a game. It's about the money.

"There's a loft on the second floor, that's my home."

"Wait, what? You're like...rich. Why don't you have a Mansion? Or at least a house?" She bursts with laughter after he calls her rich. "This place, my loft, it's inspirational. I've written all of my books here, Its home."

Ransom gently bites his lower lip and nods, his hands in his pockets, seeming genuinely interested by her. And he was. Even though he had a plan to use her, in a very twisted way, he did have an interest in her.

"I think I should head home now, but see you tomorrow?" His eyes practically sparkling as he speaks to her. "Yea, I'll make some homemade coffee and muffins for breakfast. Maybe add some strawberries. Healthy. "

"Sounds good. Goodnight Hermione."

"Goodnight Ransom. Drive safe."

---------

Ransom gets back home around eleven. His father waiting in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a glass of whisky. Two ice cubes sitting at the bottom of the almost empty glass.

"Where have you been?" His tone angry, accusing. "I was at work." Ransom sensing his fathers mood and wanting to keep it simple, not wanting to spoil the good mood Hermione put him in.

"Bullshit. You were gone over twelve hours Ransom."

"Yea, I was. I was working. Hermione has a writers gala on Sunday and i'm going with her. She took me to get a suit to wear. Not that I have to explain it to you, father. I'm getting paid, I have a job, i'm making money. Nothing ever fucking satisfies you, does it?"

He starts to walk to his bedroom when he hears his father shift in his seat. He stands up from the table slamming his glass down. His fathers anger written clearly on his face, Ransom resenting his father decides to take it a step too far.

"That's why you cheated on mom, wasn't it? Because you weren't satisfied? What? Was she not good enough in the sack for you?" Knowing the second he started to talk he had made a mistake.