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Entry tags:
- animorphs: aximili-esgarrouth-isthill,
- archie comics: jughead jones,
- far cry: jason brody,
- far cry: vaas montenegro,
- homestuck: dave strider,
- osomatsu-san: ichimatsu matsuno,
- osomatsu-san: karamatsu matsuno,
- overwatch: reaper,
- saiyuki: son goku,
- shadowhunters: clary fray,
- voltron: allura,
- yuri!!! on ice: victor nikiforov
Already choking on my pride [OPEN]
WHO: Reaper ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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.]
hellshot and OPENWHERE: 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.]
no subject
She selects a burger, still, with a side of fries. ] Hope this actually tastes like a burger... [ They've talked about it enough she really wants it now. Maybe just to feel a little bit more like normal.
As she starts to pay it out, she hopes this is a natural segue into just a little bit of prying.... ]
Is the taste thing because of the whole... whatever you've got going on? Or is it because you used to be a heavy smoker or something like that? [ Not that she actually thinks he used to be a heavy smoker, but it's a more normal reason for losing taste beyond being a.... okay is he actually dead or what? Ghost? Undead? Zombie? ]
no subject
He tips his head down a little to look at her when she comments on his whole 'thing' going on, and the 'heavy smoker' comment actually making him laugh. And as he does so, black smoke actually seeps out from under his mask at the action, which would give her an answer to why he found that bit amusing.]
Could say I still am a heavy smoker. [Shitty humor.] But you'll find when you die, a lot of your body functions stop working properly, too.
I don't eat because I'm hungry. I eat because my body needs to absorb the nutrients it needs to keep from rotting.
[Don't lose your appetite.]