Wick was the vengeful type.
That said, he did feel he'd had his revenge on Dave, by having totaled the human's apartment. The reason he was going bother the heck out of the human today had nothing to do with revenge. It had everything to do with picking on a person he'd found he really, really didn't like.

The small faery had found his way to Dave's workplace once again, and was slowly and methodically wreaking havoc with all thse interesting buttons and switches in the soundbooth. Anyone watching wouldn't have seen him - it would have looked like the switches were moving on their own. If he had been visible, what would be most noticeable about him (besides the fact that he was a tiny faery) would be the malevolent grin on his babyish face.
The look really didn't suit him. In fact, it was almost creepy.

Dave arrived in the soundbooth and stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes widened, his jaw stiffened, and his hands closed into fists. This made it difficult for him to hold on to the box of personal microphones that he held, but he didn't drop them. That was lucky for his job, probably.

"What. The. Hell!?"

He'll be in a really nasty temper in a bit, as soon as he gets over his shock.

He set the box down on a conveniently placed stool and stalked over to the switchboard. He'd hit it, in hopes of catching whatever it was that was doing this, or at least frightening it off, except that would damage the thing. So he settled for growling more profanity and swiping his hand across it, in hopes of dislodging whatever-it-was.

Wick, still grinning, hit another row of switches, then skipped down from the switchboard, onto the floor. He tucked himself into a corner, perfectly silent. No, he wasn't done yet. But it wouldn't do to get caught. He wouldn't mind if Dave knew it was him. In fact, he hoped the stupid human realized who it was. That would make it all the more fun to keep tormenting him.

His gaze scanned the room, for more things to mess with. As a rule, he didn't like plugs or electrical outlets, but he didn't mind removing connections and other simple little things...

Dave glared. He didn't know what he was glaring at, unfortunately, so he was forced to simply direct his glare around the room at random. He was going to hurt whatever it was that was doing this...

Unless it was Rose, because it was hard to hurt someone who was already dead. But she haunted the proproom, didn't she? So it couldn't be Rose.

"This. Is. Not. Funny," he informed the Whatever.

Does Wick have any idea how much work, not only on Dave's part but on the part of other techs, he's undoing? No wonder Dave is furious.

Wick hadn't the slightest clue of how much work he was making a wreck of. If he'd known, it would probably have made him flip some more switches. He had no qualms about making trouble for Dave (or the other techs, really, but that hadn't occured to him).

Not funny? Like hell it's not, the faery smirked. He looked at the box Dave had brought in, and wondered if he might be able to knock it over. Well, no harm in trying. He sneaked over to it, climbed up onto it, and gave it a shove. It teetered, but it was too heavy for him to actually be able to push it off.

"Ohshit!"

He darted and grabbed the box.

"These are expensive!" he exclaimed. Especially considering that they're the nice type that almost disappear when worn properly.

He growled more profanity and set the box down on the floor, where it would be safe from falling from a relatively great height.

The faery snickered - inwardly, so there was no chance of it being heard. He slipped to the floor once again, and made straight for Dave's sneakers. Wick was quite skilled hwen it came to knots and things, so it didn't take very long at all before he'd untied the shoelaces, then tied them together. The knots were going to be nearly impossible to get out. Dave might even have to cut the laces to get them off.

Wick sneaked away to the door, and then permitted himself a little bit of nasty giggling.

Dave didn't notice for a second. Then he took a step, crashed to the ground--somehow, miraculously missing all that expensive and delicate equipment, which was perhaps partially due to the fact that he curled up on himself as he fell, instead of flailing for support--and started cursing, loudly and fluently.

A disbelieving look at his shoes, which he kicked off and threw at the door, and more profanity.

Dave has a very dirty mouth, unfortunately.

Wick wasn't quite out of the way of Dave's shoes, and got nailed by one of them as they hurtled across the room. He gave a quiet gasp as the breath was knocked out of him. Luckily, that prevented him from making any more noise. He was a bit stunned by the blow, and had to remain on his knees for a moment, trying to suck air back into his lungs.

Ouch! Damnit, that hurt...
He glared at Dave. The human was going to pay for that one,
...just as soon as Wick was back on his feet.

Well, Dave was now back on his feet, and he was seriously annoyed. I'm sure Wick remembers Alexander's temper; Dave's is worse, in a way. He never gets coldly, quietly angry. He becomes furious and passionately angry. It goes away quickly enough, I suppose, but he can do some damage when he's furious and not thinking.

He stalked across the room and opened up a door.

Then he pulled out a broom.

Dave is pissed.

Broom.
Not good.

Wick staggered to his feet, one arm wrapped over his chest. He was breathing mostly normally, but for a slight hitch. It only slowed him a little as he clambered back up onto the switchboard, and looked around for the switch that would turn off the lights in the booth.
...Which was not on the board at all, but by the door, as a normal light switch should be.

Darn it... he frowned. He began messing with the switches again, just because he could. He'd have to get out of the room soon, where there were places to hide that would be safe from a broom.
Click. Click. Click. Click.

Dave snarled and whipped the broom across the switchboard. All the work was ruined already; he might as well finish the job. And if it caught him that stupid little thing...

"Get out of my theatre," he growled. The broom made another pass. And another, and another. If he didn't catch whatever it was that was doing this with one of these many swipes, he would be even madder.

Eep.

Wick should have quit when he was ahead. His lucky streaks were getting longer, but they never lasted.

"Yeek!"The broom came far too fast for him to get out of its way. He managed to dodge the first swipe, but it came back before he could flee to safety. It threw him into the wall with a quiet thud. He rolled off the switchboard, and hit the floor. This was accompanied by another quiet thud, and the appearance of a tiny dot of red on the floor. The cut on his forehead had reopened - the one that he'd received from his fall from Nienna's bike. Slowly, the small fae faded into view.

Dave looked at him blankly for a second, then growled, "You."

With which, he scooped up the bleeding faery and dumped him unceremoniously in a nearby box that had temporarily held a new headset for the sound system.

"You're trying to get me fired, aren't you." It wasn't a question, because he didn't actually care one way or the other how the faery answered.

He's tempted to drive out somewhere far from down and just dump the faery there. He's not going to keep him in a jar again, that's for certain.

After a moment, Wick slowly sat up, clutching his arm. It hurt.

"Yes, me ...For your information, I wasn't just trying to get you fired. Even though that would be nice," he said, his lip curling a little as he glared at Dave. His expression denoted a dark kind of anger, as well as pain. He didn't look like his usual babyfaced self. With his features twisted in that manner and the blood trickling down the side of his face, he looked vaguely demonic.

"And I'm not done yet," he informed Dave, as curls of illusionary smoke beginning to float up from the switchboard.

Dave's expression wasn't much nicer than Wick's. "Stop it. Or I'll dump you in the LaCroix instead of in the woods or something." He scowled blackly at the little faery and shook the box.

"You little bastard."

This could get messy, if one or the other of them doesn't back down. Oh dear.

He bent to attempt to deal with his shoes, keeping one eye on the faery. Mentally, he's reminding himself that everything Wick has done before, at least involving things that he wasn't touching, hasn't been real. He's praying that that's still the case, because there's no way that he can afford to replace that thing.

He grimaced, stifling a cry of pain as Dave shook the box. Then he frowned darkly at the human.
"Won't stop," he growled. The smoke began coming in puffs, then flames began licking along the edges of the switchboard. He so hated this human. It was very, very tempting to cast nightmares on him. Wick wondered what he was afraid of...

Dogs. And ghosts and demons.

That would be interesting nightmares, I think. Very interesting ones.

Dave shook the box again, then dropped it to smother the flames. If they were real flames... Since they didn't burn his hand--yes, he was not thinking clearly enough to grab something and put his hands in the illusory orange glow--they were apparently not real.

Hah.

"I should step on you or something," he muttered.

The faery's eyes narrowed, sightly bleary. He couldn't understand why his arm hurt so much... Whatever the reason - it was the human's fault.
I hate you.

"Don't push your luck," Wick warned, "I dare you to day that again,... you even think about stepping on me and you'll wish you never set eyes on me."
This wasn't a life-or-death situation right now,... but Wick was itching to pull out the human's nightmares. He wasn't afraid of Dave, not a bit. He was an ordinary, if hateful, human - not magic like Dr. Barclay, and not even slightly nice.

"Yeah? Screw you, little bastard. I'll say whatever the hell I want. I should step on you."

We must here point out that Dave would never do something like that, for a variety of reasons. Violet, for one. And the fact that he wouldn't want to think of himself as a murderer, for another.

"Warned you," Wick said grimly, though not without satisfaction - he'd wanted that last threat because it made it feel like he had an excuse to go through with it. "I wonder,... I wonder what your nightmares are."

He let go of the hurt arm long enough to wave one hand, merely for show. The spell was cast. Then he settled back in the box, eyes half-closed and a wicked smirk on his face.He was going to have to try really hard to stay awake for this,... that bit of magic always drained him.

"Wha--"

Whatever he might have been going to say was lost in a choking gasp as he crumpled to the floor and covered his head and throat, as if to defend against something tearing and biting at him. That was followed by a bit of whimpering, a bit of trembling, and a bit of soft, terrified cursing.

Now, now, Wick, was this really necessary?

No. Wick knew perfectly well it wasn't necessary - but that didn't stop him. Maybe later he would feel guilty about it.

"Serves you right," the small fae grumbled (not without satisfaction) as he tried to drag himself out of the box. He'd have been able to manage it if he wasn't so tired, all of a sudden. His nails were good for helping him climb things, but they couldn't help if he couldn't pull himself up.
Well, damn.

Dave was hyperventilating by this point.

You know what probably the biggest problem in this situation is? Dave is not mentally prepared to cope with all these things attacking him in his mind all at once. He can deal--poorly--with one at a time, but all at once? No way.

Then his breath became extremely shallow and nearly inaudible. To someone at a distance, he didn't seem to be breathing at all.

Wick might feel a little worse about this if he actually knew what Dave was seeing. But he didn't. And the human wasn't screaming, which also served to keep him from feeling very guilty. He made another attempt to crawl out of the box, and this time, by accident, managed to knock it on its side. He rolled out, and just lay there for a minute.

Seems like it's hit him pretty hard, Wick thought, blinking at Dave, frowning so he could focus. Whew,... am I ever tired...

Dave wasn't screaming, no. He wasn't doing much else, either... Was he breathing, even?

(Yes, he was breathing. Barely; he was limp with fear and probably could use the aid of someone who knew how to snap him out of this. The nightmare didn't seem like it was going to end any time soon.)

He might have been crying, though. Maybe.

Just to note - Wick still didn't feel sorry for him.
Okay, well, maybe just a little. But he chalked it up to exhaustion, and began slowly creeping and wobbling towards the door, to get the heck out of there before Dave woke up,... though, if he was lucky, the human would be too traumatized to remember to be angry. At least until Wick could get well out of the way.

I'll be long gone, he told himself. If he stopped to try and wake up Dave, ... well, he was sure that wouldn't end nicely. Best to just leave him to his fears and misery.
Wick stopped at the door, falling over.
Ow. Great. Now I don't wanna get up...

Usually, by this point, the nightmares that Wick inflicted on his victims would have run their course. Human dreams don't tend to last all that long, in actual time, after all, it only seems an eternity while one is experiencing them.

Unusually, Dave suddenly stiffened... and if there had been a video-recording of the first few minutes of his suffering, it would have been nearly identical to what happened next.

Wick didn't realize that it was lasting any longer than it should. He was too busy peeling himself off the floor. Somehow, he made his way out,... down the stairs,... and outside. From there, who knows where he went? Probably somewhere small and dark, where he would pass out and sleep off the weariness the spell caused.
It never once occurred to him that he might be causing more harm than intended.

~~~

And while this was happening, Violet was on her way to the theater to make a surprise visit to Dave. Hope he's not too busy,... I won't bother him for long if he is, she thought, with a faint smile to herself. She knew he was busy during shows, but hopefully he wouldn't mind a short visit from her.

She went in, looking around. The place seemed pretty empty.
"Hello?" she called hesitantly, heading towards the stairs.
Hope I'm allowed,... and I really hope Dave doesn't mind the interruption...

Were he aware enough to realize that Violet was there, he would certainly not have minded seeing her. Unfortunately, he was stuck in a nightmare not entirely of his own invention, and he wasn't aware of anything else.

His heartbeat matched his breathing, and neither were going at a normal rate, by any stretch of the imagination.

Receiving no reply from the soundbooth (where she assumed he would be), she called, "Hello?" again, a bit louder this time. Still no answer... that was odd. Violet went quickly up the stairs, to be certain that he wasn't there before she went looking in the rest of the theatre. Her sneakers made soft squeaking noises on the stairs. Just to note - she hadn't dressed up for this, and was wearing t-shirt and jeans. She was only planning on dropping in, after all.

Door's open, she remarked, stepping in and-

"Dave?" Her dark eyes widened in surprise. That look on his face,... he looks like he's in pain or something. She went over and knelt on the floor next to him, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him gently. "Dave?!"

He didn't seem to hear her, though he did curl in on himself even further, whimpering.

That's not what's supposed to happen...

It's probably lucky for him that he has no real inherent magic of his own; it would probably not have reacted well to this.

Apparently he's allergic to Wick's spell.

What's going on...?!

"Come on, snap out of it,... please, Dave? Can you even hear me...?" she said worriedly, louder than before in the hopes that she could get him to react. She shook him harder for a moment, then stopped. If he was being like this because he was hurt (though she didn't see any evidence of that), shaking him would be a bad idea. She did, however, put her arms around him, and tried to get him to uncurl.
"Snap out of it,... wake up already," she pleaded.

He jerked away from her, his eyes flickering open, the pupils dilated far beyond what was normal...

Blink. Blinkblinkblink.

"... Vi...?"

What the hell just happened? He's shaking, and he isn't entirely certain why. Fortunately for his sanity, you see, he doesn't remember much of the nightmare. Or perhaps it would be nightmareS, in the plural, since it repeated so many times...

A weak, relieved smirk flickered across her face for a moment. It was almost too brief to be recognized as a smirk.

"Yeah, 's me," she said, frowning in concern, "What's the matter? Are you alright? You were -"
She didn't really want to describe it.
"- What happened,...? You're not hurt, are you?"

"I'm... not sure..." he answered dazedly, looking around with an expression of bewilderment that might have been funny under other, less worriesome circumstances.

He took in his shoes by the door, the box on its side, the mikes...

"... god, I hate that faery."

He has no idea what Wick did to him, but he's pretty damn sure that it was indeed Wick. Though the exact memories are blurry.

"... Wick? But wh-..."
Violet rested her palms on her knees, her fingers digging into her jeans. She considered the state she had found Dave in. As if he was asleep, in a way. She didn't really react to Dave's comment about hating Wick, having other thoughts that were more pressing.

"He didn't..." she said, after a long pause. Then she shot a look at Dave that was a tad suspicious, but toned down because she wasn't sure whether to still be symathetic towards him, or not. "What. Did. You. Do?"
If her suspicions are correct, Wick did that spooky trick of his where he took out people's nightmares.
He wouldn't do that unless he thought his life was in danger...

Blink.

"What did I do? I tried to get him to stop screwing with the soundboard and everything else! I was going to dump him in the park or something, get him out of here. I didn't do anything!"

Only someone who was a very good actor or someone who really wasn't guilty could manage that tone of injured innocence.

"Okay."

There was no indication in her tone that she might not believe him - or that she did believe him. She looked quite upset now. Not particularly angry, not particularly sad. Just upset. What was Wick doing here, anyway? Maybe he was just here to bug Dave...

"And what did he do when you tried to stop him?"
It's no use forming conclusions without the whole story.

Dave scowled at the memory.

"Continued to fuck with the soundboard, tried to knock over a box of expensive personal mikes, and tried to make me think the soundboard was on fire." He didn't mention that he brushed Wick off with a broom, though. Probably because she wouldn't take well to that.

Still.

Wick was in no danger of dying at any point, no matter what Dave might have grumbled, by the way.

"Oh yeah, and he tied my shoes together."