Already choking on my pride [OPEN]

[hellshot]

WHO: Reaper hellshot and OPEN
WHERE: Within the Fleet, some automated cafeteria
WHEN: Various times within the month, whenever he needs to eat.
WHAT: Reaper needs nutrients, touchscreens aren't his friend.
WARNINGS: Possible mention of how horridly deformed he is under his mask. It's bad.


[Dark fingernails tap against the metal counter he's currently standing in front of. If he wasn't wearing a mask, it would be easy to see the look of frustration on Reaper's face with his current predicament, so for now, the only way of knowing that the ghost of a man is pissed off is the wisps of black fog escaping from under aforementioned mask.

He hadn't gone on the previous mission with Sombra, and he had no interest in rescue missions, either. Which meant he hadn't seen the field of battle in little over a month--which meant he hadn't been taking in new nutrients from his surroundings to keep his body from decaying to a point of discomfort. Which meant he had to partake in his least favourite of activities: Eating.

Eating was difficult enough when your face was barely suited for it--but when the cafeteria closest to his living quarters was a fully automated one? It was like a really bad joke. Touchscreens worked when pressure was applied with an electrical charge--human skin was a great conductor for said electrical charge. Dead flesh didn't hold any sort of charge. So this was his predicament. He couldn't eat if he couldn't get the damn screen to work.

Frustrated, Reaper finally turns his head to glare at the individual waiting for their turn after him. He hated asking for help, so instead:]

Work this damn thing for me and I'll pay for your food, too.

[He's too tired for this bullshit today.]

Comments

[ichimyatsu]

[Behind Reaper in line is a man he could have easily overlooked for how short he is-- on top of being barely over five feet, he's slouched with his hands in his pockets. He's not watching Reaper or his struggle, probably disliking having to be in a cafeteria almost as much as Reaper himself, so the demand catches him off-guard and he jolts, taking half a step backward.]

[And then he lets the demand sink in-- work this, and I'll pay for your food.]

[He looks up, and then to the screen, shuffling to it and extracting his hand from his pocket. If this guy paid for his food, he could buy more cat food instead. Excellent. In this, he has paid absolutely no attention to Reaper, his appearance, the reason he can't seem to use the screen, or the weird fog escaping his mask.]

Sure, what do you want.

[hellshot]

[He takes a moment to actually look at the individual waiting in line. He hadn't cared much to who the hell it could have been, but when his eyes fixate on the NEET, he almost immediately regrets his decision. Maybe he should have just gone to a different food court.

What he expects from 'Karamatsu' is another fruity, flowy, overdone response, but instead, he gets a rather plain one. 'Sure'. And the kid wasn't even looking at him. Last he remembered, Karamatsu wasn't the type to take his eyes off him--probably in fear of being killed by 'Death-san' or something--and yet...]

...Steak and eggs. [A simple response, as he leans down, just an inch, to stare at the guy. ...He hadn't even brushed his hair, what...]

Did you actually take my advice and drop the appearances to concentrate on more important things? [Hah. Maybe something happened to startle the guy. (Little does he know.)]

[ichimyatsu]

[He prods through the menu until he finds the appropriate items, one hand still in his pocket. He tilts his head at the question but doesn't look up for a moment, frowning.]

...how do you want the steak and eggs, and also, no? I've never met you before.

[He turns fully, then, looking up over his shoulder at him in a confused squint. His tone is subdued, his voice is quieter, and while his face is structurally the same there are a number of small differences, even without the messy hair. He doesn't maintain eye contact-- or, looking in the general direction of where his eyes would be, judging from the mask --for longer than a handful of seconds, turning back toward the menu with a still puzzled expression on his face, though even that is subdued.]

[hellshot]

['I've never met you before.' That's not quite right. He's not sure that Karamatsu would forget him, not with how badly he'd spooked the guy the first time they'd 'met'. He's almost about to bark back 'bullshit', but.

Thank the fact that Gabriel has a mind like a steel trap. "I am looking for my beloved, long-lost and long-separated brothers." Wasn't that what the too-flowery guy had said? Sextuplets. Good god, they really were identical.]

Medium-rare. Eggs over easy. [Get that out of the way first, and then he crosses his arms over.]

So you're one of that over-the-top guy's brothers, then. You're a spitting goddamn image, I thought he went and changed his character altogether.

[ichimyatsu]

[He turns his attention back to the screen and taps the order buttons for Medium-Rare and Over Easy for Reaper's meal, and squints his eyes even more closed just after, hunching his shoulders.]

Oh, fuuuuck me, Shittymatsu's here? Of any of them, why him. [He turns and holds two fingers up like eyebrows, pointing them angrily downward.] Real flowery speech, stupid drawn-on eyebrows? Where's an airlock so I can throw him or myself out of it.

[hellshot]

[Well. At the very least, Ichimatsu's reaction was appropriate. If not kind of hilarious.]

'Shittymatsu'? One hell of a nickname to give your own brother. [He's actually laughing, even if it sounds more like a dry cough escaping from under his mask. He looks down at the guy, the show of making Karamatsu's...

Distinct expression.]

That's the one. Wouldn't mistake it.

Would rather you threw him out of it, if you had a choice. [A pause.]

...If you want to get tossed one out yourself, later. They don't tolerate murder here. [Sigh.]

[ichimyatsu]

We've all been calling him that for years, when you've got five brothers it's perfectly acceptable to call the most obnoxious one an awful name. There's another one we call Fappymatsu, so you can see the kind of family we are.

[He sticks almost his entire tongue out of his mouth, making a put-upon gagging sound.]

A decent person would say of course not, the guilt would eat me alive after killing my sibling. Too bad I'm not a decent person. Are you actually gonna pay for my food since I ordered yours?

[hellshot]

...Hah. Right. He mentioned sextuplets. You'd all drive each other nuts in a situation like that. [He laughs again, the sound a rasping echo--it doesn't sound anything like a laugh Ichimatsu would have heard before.]

Don't try to play up how important it is to be 'decent'. I could care less.

Might even appreciate you if you aren't. [Talk about edgy.]

...Why would I not pay for your food. Said I would. So I will. Unless you take another week to order, then I'm leaving.

[ichimyatsu]

[He tilts his head at the sound, intrigued in the same sort of way a cat would be when hearing something unusual for the first time. He's not making direct eye contact with the ...eye holes, in Reaper's mask, but he's looking him over a bit more directly, now. Huh. What a weird mask, what a weird person. He doesn't hate him.]

[He chuffs a laugh of his own, because what a fucking Edgelord McEdgerson, and then turns back to the screen and flips through it to order something simple. It's probably fish, and maybe rice, something mild or barely salty but inherently healthful. It's a very Japanese order, whatever it is.]

Why can't you use the machine? [Rather than thank him, he aims to figure out why this is happening, possibly to make use of it in the future. It's like stealing someone's lunch money, but in a roundabout and significantly friendlier way that actually benefits both parties, somehow.]

[hellshot]

[Once the order is put through, Reaper pulls his dog tags out and makes short work of paying for the entire order, as he'd promised. He doesn't even drag it out, or add any weird conditions--he may be an unrepentant asshat, but he's true to his words, at least.

The machine whirrs to life, the automated mechanics making busy work of putting together their food. He frowns under his mask before turning to look back down at Ichimatsu, that question not a weird one, at least.

He holds a hand up, stretching out fingers of his ungloved hand. His fingers are big, but the dark skin covering them is pallid, almost greying, and the skin was pulled tight to bone. And if he even looks closely, there are red, glowing cracks near some of the joints--where bone and muscle can almost be seen through.]

Touchscreens rely on being used by things that can hold a charge. Dead flesh doesn't fall under that category.

[ichimyatsu]

[He looks his hand over and doesn't seem the least bit bothered-- if anything, he looks intrigued. A simple nod is the most response he gives for a minute, though, his own hands slipping away back into his pockets of his parka.]

Pretty talkative for a dead guy.

[hellshot]

[He actually laughs. It's an echoing, raspy thing that sounds nearly more like a bark than a laugh, but. Ichimatsu will get the idea.]

What can I say.

Too stubborn to stay in the grave.

[ichimyatsu]

[He can't help the wry grin that tugs one corner of his mouth. This guy isn't terrible. Maybe Hell in space won't be so bad after all.]

Fair enough. You got a name?

[hellshot]

[Oh, he's terrible. Just in ways that Ichimatsu may or may not mind. He lets out a low scoff, waving a claw-adorned hand at the less excitable Matsu.]

Reaper.

[Turning his head down to look at him:]

Don't tell me your mother gave you all matching names. [Read: and your name?]

[ichimyatsu]

[He quirks one eyebrow, even if it's hard to tell since his deadpan expression doesn't otherwise change.]

"Reaper"? With a name like that, you have the balls to fuss about sextuplets being given similar names? Jeez.

[As an afterthought, he offers a hand. He can't really be sure of Reaper's origins, but somehow a handshake feels more appropriate than bowing.]

Ichimatsu.

[hellshot]

...It's a nickname. If you want my real name, you're going to have to ask nicely.

[This is said in almost a wry, mocking way as he turns his head to look down at that hand offered to him.

He almost seems to consider it for a moment before he reaches to take it--the big, clawed, leather-clad thing almost completely covering Ichimatsu's own.

And it's cold. Nearly like ice.] 'Ichi' and 'Kara', is it.

[ichimyatsu]

[A grin.]

Shame, I'm not great at being nice.

[He starts, but not terribly visibly so, at his hand being basically engulfed in a frozen kappa hand, but just frowns thoughtfully.]

The others are Osomatsu, Choromatsu, Jyushimatsu and Todomatsu, so yes, we do all match, before you ask.

[hellshot]

Then it seems there are some mysteries yet in this life for you to deal with.

[His echoing voice makes the wry tone of this response hard to detect, but it's there.]

Guessing there's some sort of naming scheme there. But my knowledge of the Japanese language is shit, at best.

Used to have a kid named Genji in my sect once. He taught one of my new recruits how to swear. [Lol.]

[ichimyatsu]

[A slight, crooked smile persists on his face, and he shrugs one shoulder. You're all right, Reaper.]

Most of them are weird puns, but I'm not gonna fault my mother for her naming convention when she popped six assholes out of her. This Genji kid sounds like a winner, we are a pretty creative lot sometimes.