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

[hellshot]

[Yeah, leaping in face-first didn't work so well for you with your Skydiving incident, did it. Learn your lessons, Jason.

When the kid stands at the mercenary's side, watching him struggle--Reaper of course, only responds in kind. He purposefully exhales a low breath, more of that black, ozone-smelling fog from underneath his mask. Look at that, you can insult him back in Spanish. Remind him to slow-clap it out for you later.]

You could cut your losses and keep walking. [Jason's first warning. One he likely won't take, from his experience with brats like him.] Because what the fuck is 'wrong' with me might be dangerous to your health, brat. Didn't your parents ever teach you not to mess with Death?

[Fear the Reaper, bitch.]

[dudebro]

[ Hey. He lived to tell the tale about it. So, ultimately, it worked out better for him than Grant. ( Also possibly Vincent. )

But, anyway. Reaper is completely right in thinking Jason's not going to be deterred so easily. He likes danger and being an asshole. And, look at that! He's got both of those things right here. And is probably going to make all of this worse in, like, negative two seconds. Because he laughs. It bursts out of him before he can stop it or curb it by any means. ]

Holy shit, dude. Oh, my God.

[ No, wait. He's not done laughing yet. Wow. This is too amazing. ]

Christ, I think I just got cut on your edge.

[ Fuck. That laugh is worth helping him out, Jason thinks. So, he unfolds from his stance and gestures to the buttons. ]

What the hell do you want, Grim?

[hellshot]

[The laugh is worth helping him out? He sincerely hopes that you enjoyed that laugh, Jason, because you get to have it. The entire thing. Reaper doesn't move from where he's standing, save for tipping his head to the side with a small crack of his neck. The motion is nearly calm as he settles where he's standing.

Let it all out. He'll wait until you're done, really. Because it feels good to get a good laugh out, doesn't it? Especially when it's a real genuine laugh in the face of someone who really doesn't fuck around.

When he's done, and he actually moves enough to actually use the machine, Reaper's going to go for a different move instead. A flash of his entire body as he literally materializes into a cloud of purple-black smoke, and as it moves to fly directly at Jason, a hand will materialize from its depths in attempt to grab him by the neck.

If he succeeds, Jason can enjoy being held up against the front of the 'vending machine', a few feet off the ground.]

[dudebro]

[ He did enjoy that laugh, thanks. In fact, he's going to enjoy it even after this fucking disaster. Because it's fun. He likes laughing. Loves laughing at idiots and he's completely sure that this guy is a grade-a idiot.

Now, he probably could be quick enough to get out of that grasp. But, there's literally no fucking fun in that and sometimes a bitch needs to be choked. And, since someone is so fond of calling Jason a bitch... well. You get the idea. So, it surprises him, sure. Because he's not really expecting it and the amusement does kind of fade away in the face of this.

But, Jason also doesn't really struggle. In fact, he's likely more placid about this than expected. His breathing shifts to adjust to the hold and he knows how long he can hold out on this. Anyone else would back down and apologize. But, as everyone has likely discovered: Jason Brody is a fucking idiot. ]

Did you not get hugged a lot when you were a kid, or what? Dude, you gotta find your chill somewhere in that dead head of yours.

[hellshot]

[Later on, he might suggest that Jason is also markedly insane along with being intensely irritating. Fingers settle in a grip around the guy's neck, tipping his head a little to the side to bore a glare deep into Jason's eyes. From this close, the guy would be able to see the pinpricks of red that were his eyes deep in the hollows of that mask. Not that Jason would be too unnerved by it.]

I have my 'chill' when I'm not forced to listen to the incessant prattle and nonsense of idiots who need a firm beating to learn how they should speak around dangerous creatures.

[He hisses this, low, those whisps of black carbon escaping out from behind his mask. The scent of something burning would be far more apparent, like he's breathing smoke and embers with his sheer, quiet rage.

Metal-tipped 'claws' on his gloves curl in against his neck just a little more.]

You're not going to live too long, if you keep that attitude close to your heart.

[dudebro]

[ Oh, yeah, definitely. Jason knows that something got knocked loose as shit on Rook. There's no denying that. But, he'd also argue that he's fucking found himself. It's a bit of a mixed bag and he's not really sure how to explain it to people who haven't experienced what he has.

But, yeah. On the whole, he still looks mildly unimpressed with what's going on. Because he just slowly tries to keep breathing and not let himself panic and just watches Reaper instead of trying to fight back. ]

And you just think you're above it all, huh? [ he swallows; it's kind of annoying not being able to breathe that well. ] I know I'm not invincible and one day I'm gonna fuck up and bite it. But do you, dude? You don't have to be some gnarly hardass twenty-four seven. Unclench your ass for, like, an hour maybe.

[hellshot]

Maybe when you do fuck up and bite it, you'll realise a few fucking things you're above, too. [He doesn't honestly feel like he's better than the world, but if there's a few things he's above, it's dealing with people with shitty attitudes or opinions he didn't particularly care for.]

I'm cursed enough in this shitty un-life as it is, and being a gnarly hardass usually shuts up annoying punks like you long enough to get a bit of peace and quiet.

[And as much as he'd fucking LOVE to kill Jason and be done with this, he knows there's rules here. And he doesn't feel like being thrown into space-jail or out into the cold expanse of space. So, after a moment, Jason will be let go.

Unceremoniously, and less 'let go' and more 'tossed aside', but I digress.]

[dudebro]

[ And once again, Jason manages to escape death. Maybe he is lucky. Maybe Vaas was right: both or neither. And as far as he knows Vaas is still alive, so........ Who knows! It's possible a psycho could be right once. Or more than once. But, Jason doesn't like to focus on that for very long.

But, fact remains that he's alive. And not that he'll mange to be thankful for that or anything, but whatever. He does stumble a bit, but doesn't act like a little bitch by gasping for air or rubbing his hand over his throat or anything. Jason's a man now after dealing with all the shit on Rook. He can handle being choked for a little bit without showing fear or major discomfort. It's a matter of fucking pride.

So, he just breathes and swallows a few times before looking over at Reaper again. There's nothing Jason's above, he knows that. Might not have known years ago, but now he does. That got beaten into him over and over again. Yeah, he has annoying self-confidence that he doesn't know how to manage well and comes across like a fucking dope. But, deep in his gut Jason knows he's not better than anything or anyone. He's not above dealing with anything that happens to come into his life. Even if he doesn't like it.

He gestures with his chin toward the machine. Because even if Reaper is a fucking asshole, there's still something decent in Jason somewhere. ]

Look, you want help or not?

[hellshot]

[Figuratively and literally escape death. Part of Reaper knows he'd have felt better about this entire situation if he had been able to just kill the idiot and be done with it. But the last thing he needs is a ship-wide inquiry due to another murder--one that could easily be tied back to him--and the blood of another kid on his hands.

Teeth setting behind that mask as Jason gains composure--even after handling the entire situation with more composure than a guy his age rightfully should--he lets out a sound, like a low, echoing rumble. A sigh or a growl--Jason can decide that for himself later.]

No. I don't. I've lost my appetite, so if you'll excuse me.

[He knows that he'll regret not giving his nanites the nutrients they need later as they itch and buzz under the surface of his skin. He gives the guy one last glare from under his mask before turning to skulk off--a trail of purple-black smoke left in his wake.]