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

[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.]