starlogs | Already choking on my pride [OPEN]

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Already choking on my pride [OPEN]

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.]

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[Stand back, Reaper, a weird alien's got this.

Sort of. Well, he will when he actually understand what the problem is. Right now he just thinks this guy is probably backwoods.]

The operation of it is simple. You use your finger to select the delicious food you wish to eat.

[Duh.]

[Thanks, Ax. He appreciates it, really. Can you see the flat look behind that skull-like mask? Probably not, but you can feel it. Especially when the ghost of a man quite purposefully turns his head to stare right at the morphing alien, and without looking at the screen, he drags a cold, dead finger down the middle of it.

The screen absolutely does not react to Reaper's finger.]

Amazing. [His voice rasps, no small amount of sarcasm dripping from the echoing tone.]

Why didn't I think of that in the first place.

[ People of questionable appearance have never been a problem for Vaas, mostly because he isn't well acquainted with fear and also because he looks like a crazy freak. There's no judgment. Not unless the person in question is a pussy. Vaas reserves a lot of scorn for pussies.

It's with an utter disregard for personal space that he glances over, recognizes Reaper from their previous conversation, ad slaps him companionably on the arm. ]

Guess bony fingers don't work so good on touchscreens. [ He grins as an idea strikes. ] You should get one of those little pens. You know, a... [ He snaps his fingers. ] A stylus. That would probably help you.

[ Attention shifting to the screen, Vaas scans the selections. His tone is both thoughtful and serious when he asks; ]

What does a reaper eat, hermano? Souls of your victims aren't listed on here.

[Ax's eyes go wide as he leans in to observe the (lack of?) phenomenon, without stopping to be insulted. Sarcasm: it's not very effective.]

Fascinating. I apologize if this is rude, but is your skin perhaps insulated against electricity? [He's not sure how that would work, but he's seen weirder.] Many of the facilities on this ship are not designed to accommodate human-adjacent lifeforms. I would know.

[Why don't you pick up on his sarcasm. It's literally his second-best weapon. And here it is going wasted. He fixes Ax with a nearly confused look... trying to figure out if the kid is fucking with him or not. Are you fucking with him.]

'You would know.' What, did you see an alien try to use one of the toilets only to break the door or something. [More sarcasm that would probably be taken seriously or overlooked.]

Rude? Who knows, maybe I'm sensitive about my skin being dead.

[Alas, Ax is not fucking with him. He is, unfortunately, just like this.

Without missing a beat:] I am an alien.

[Then he grabs at one of Reaper's hands to inspect it without so much as a how's-your-father.] Dead skin should not be an issue, though maybe if it's very severe... Have you tried exfoliation?

[At the very least, one of the more favourable people he's met on this damn ship happened to be the one he had to bite his pride around. Vaas was one of the few who would not ask the weird, awkward questions to why his hands wouldn't work on the screen. The lack of personal space isn't really that appreciated--and with the madman standing this close, the other would undoubtedly be able to pick up on the smell of burning carbon that Reaper gave off along with that fog--but he's not so bothered (yet) as to give him a slap back.

He lets out a low sound, almost like a growl, almost like a laugh.]

They don't. It's a damn irritant. This technology is backwater compared to what I'm used to. [But it's not a bad idea. He'll get Sombra to make him a pen in return for all the favours he's done for her in the past, perhaps.]

Damn inconvenient, isn't it. Not going on damn rescue missions to go drink souls either. [He appreciates that comment more than you'd know, Vaas.] Something high in calories. Proteins more important than other nutrients. [Cold fingers tap the screen uselessly again, pointing. Steak with vegetables, that was the easiest.]

You don't look like an alien-- [Why does he have the worst luck with meeting people in this damn fleet. They've mostly all been weird, annoying or-- what the FUCK are you doing with his HAND.

You most certainly ARE an alien sir, who the fuck said you could go around grabbing people like that?! Ax will find that his hand isn't exactly welcoming--it's cold as ice, and the joints feel nearly stiff under his fingers.]

Let go, unless you want to lose that hand. [No jokes, no sarcasm this time.]

[Mercifully, he does. The tone of Reaper's voice is enough to make him snap to attention; he lets go and rears back, muscles tense and eyes narrowed like he's getting ready to fight (in this useless morph, no less), before he remembers that they're just in a food court and he got yelled at for invading personal space. Which is fairly reasonable.

Still, he hadn't actually meant to piss Reaper off, and now here they are. The best thing to do now is cut his losses, so he turns stiffly back to the kiosk without another word. (Because apologies are for lesser beings. Or beings that deal better with embarrassment.)]

What did you want to order?

Deal.

[He replies, with no hesitation whatsoever. The guy in front of him looks kinda creepy, sure, but after the month Jughead’s had he’s not going to judge anyone for how they look. It’s called being sensitive! And doing literally anything for anyone for the chance for a free lunch.

He also can’t really throw stones for people’s choices in accessories. ]

Are you a dessert for dinner kind of guy? This thing makes a killer cheesecake. Not exactly New York style, but you can’t be too picky out in the wilds of the universe.

[Allura's here on her lunch break, smelling heavily of flowers and...plants having come directly from the flower shop, mice sitting on their usual perch, two on each shoulder.

She's ignored the strange masked man up until this point, watching him struggle with the touch screen, and she was about to move to another available kiosk when he suddenly turns to her, feeling his glare and sensing his frustration, and the tone of his voice--

gets him a deadpan look. Honestly, Reaper, that's no way to ask a Princess.]

Do you not know how to work the touchscreen?

Huh?

[Goku's been waiting impatiently in line behind Reaper this whole time, bouncing on his heels and pouting- he's hungry! Hurry up! He's going to starve to death! He starting to get annoyed when Reaper finally turns to him.]

Really? [Instantly brightens up and elbows his way in front of Reaper to get at the screen.] All right! Don't worry, I know how to do it! It's easy! I'll get us both a ton of food!

[Reaper may not realise this yet but he has made A Mistake.]

[ Now see, here is a man—grim spectre of death that appreciates proper nutrition. He isn't a whiny pussy like Christopher was. He understands that protein is what makes someone a man. Or, well, in his case, a skeletal rictus of a man.

Vaas approves.

What he doesn't approve of is the selection offered by this vending console thing. He taps a finger against the screen. ]

This stuff is shit. Worse than all that junk Americans eat. [ Fast food. Doritos. Cola. It's terrible. Why eat that when there's fresh kills, coconuts, and mangoes aplenty? ] It's fake. You want real food, we should go hunting.

[ Looking up at him, Vaas smiles sharply, all teeth and violence. He's been here more than a month and hasn't killed or tortured anything. He's bored. ]

The crew people brought all those dinosaur things onto the ship. We could kill one of those. Lots of protein there.

[He gives the kid another once-over as his attitude immediately changes. His threat seems to have done enough to straighten out the apparent alien, and he feels better for it. Tipping his head up a little as he reclaims his hand, curling his fingers into a fist before letting it settle at his side.

A small scoff escapes him, along with a black cloud of smoke.]

Never met a ghost before, have you, kid. [He's not apologising for the threat--but at least he's still getting what he wanted here. He points to the touchscreen, a little less irritated, a little more haughty.]

Steak. Eggs. Things with protein. [Expensive, he knew, but it wasn't like he had any other choice.]

[Once Vaas takes over, he takes time to return his glove over his hand--hiding decaying fingers underneath the black leather and silver claws that have become more of a 'skin' for him than even his own body.

He scoffs when the man calls the food shit-- he'd be inclined to agree. It was like replicated food, even if a bit better than the slop they used to feed them in SEP. He'd still rather absorb nutrients the way he was used to. Which is why hunting sounded like a better idea.

That sharp smile keeps Reaper from arguing that there's not much game to be found in a fleet of ships, and there's a crackling sound from under his mask when Vaas suggests the 'dinosaurs.' The Fek and the Trilk, weren't they? Something like that--he can't be assed to remember.]

Hunt down and eat one of the creatures people are trying so hard to rescue from extinction? How cruel, Vaas. [Sombra had been pretty upset about pretty much helping cause that whole disaster, but... all the same.]

Though I suppose cornering and taking one away wouldn't go noticed. [An entire alien creature like that--he could absorb all the nutrients he needs for weeks off something like that.]

[Just his luck. He'd found someone not only willing to use the damnable archaic machines to help him get some fucking lunch, but someone who's excited about the prospect of talking about it, too.

He lets out a low grumble, nearly like irritation, before fixing a hidden glare down at Jughead.]

Dinner. Anything with protein. [Please god if you order him a hamburger, though--] ...Haven't had a proper cheesecake since I was a kid. [A scoff.] Wouldn't be able to taste it now anyway. So don't think I'm going to waste my money.

( The man and dog standing behind him both seem to have actually been watching him play at the screen, Victor glancing up at his mask and nodding, patting his thigh to ask Makkachin to move forward when he does. He's about to head off to practice again, knowing he needed to pick up something as quick energy before he burned it all off again.

Who's he to turn down a free meal? (Actually...) )

If that's what you want to do, then why not? What were you wanting off menu?

( Makkachin slowly extends his head toward Reaper, sniffing; Victor keeps an eye on him in his peripheral vision in case he needs to pull his dog back from trying to make friends yet again. A tap on the screen brings up the main menu; he looks fully to the masked person and lets his hand hover over the screen, waiting for direction. )

[Even if he knew she was a Princess, he probably wouldn't change the way he talks to her. Sorry, Allura, you really do deserve better but. You're in the presence of a ghost with absolutely no manners at all, even when it comes to asking a favour.

Her comment is even more irritating, as he half-wonders if she had even been watching him fumble for the last three minutes. A sneer echoes out from behind his mask, and he tips his head back to fix her with a hidden glare from behind that skull-like mask.]

Hard to work it when the damn thing doesn't respond to the hands of a dead man. [Manners. None at all.]

[He has made a mistake. And here he is, ignorant to it. It's that little monkey-kid who had irritated him during his last network-wide broadcast, and while he hadn't come out of that conversation hating the brat, he's not too sure how he feels when the boy announces that he'll get them a ton of food.]

--Watch your elbows. [He growls out when he's nudged out of the way, taking a moment to put his gloves back on. A huff of a growl escaping as he hovers over Goku's shoulder--

What are you doing--]

What are you ordering? [It's too late, isn't it. It's far too late.]

[It's hard not to be unnerved by the mask; it's reminiscent of what the Galran druids wear. But, she can also tell when someone is, by all accounts, being needlessly aggressive.

She's about to say something in return, with her own glare and snappish tone, but at the mention of 'dead man' she pauses. Kind of difficult to understand what he means by that, if it's some strange expression or--]

Dead man? I apologize, I don't quite follow.

[ For a second, when the man turns around she's almost certain she's going to be called out for staring.

She tried really hard not to. She's aware she's doing it. She's aware it's rude, too. But in all honesty, when you fight demons you don't stop to look at them too hard. And here there are more than just demons. There are aliens and just... people who look different even.

She was trying to piece together if Reaper was an alien or a human with something else going on or if he was even a real person and not a ghost when he turned on her. His question eases her worry, though, and she laughs a little nervously as she steps around him to approach the screen. ]

Sure! You don't have to pay for my food. [ She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. ]

What were you trying to order?

[He gives the dog a wary look as it sniffs at him. The dog might find itself curious, if only because Reaper just doesn't smell right. Even to Victor as he gets closer, the scent of Ozone and burning carbon (nearly like the smell that comes off an air conditioner) would become apparent as he shifts to the side.

He points to the screen as the silver-haired individual (thankfully) accepts his offer, gesturing to the 'protein' section.]

Steak, or something higher in calories. [He's not looking for taste--but for nutrients. Not that the coach would know, but it's not like he can taste whatever he's going to eat.] Whatever you get for yourself isn't my concern.

[It was moments like these which he almost missed being back with Talon. Noone ever asked him questions about his snides about being 'Death', or his comments about being a 'dead man walking.' They always either just accepted it at face value, or were too scared to even speak a word in response.

The princess clearly didn't have either of the above problems, so he lets out a low, growling sound of irritation.]

Never met a ghost before?

Dead.

I'm dead, if I have to spell it out. [It's a sore subject.]

[He's strangely used to being stared at, honestly. People who look into the eyes of his mask, searching for something living or hoping it's not the last thing they see--he wouldn't call the girl out for it.

It's the comments on his appearance (or the strange smell of burning carbon that becomes apparent when you get too close) that he doesn't enjoy comments on. She keeps from it, for now, so when she moves forward to aid him, he lets out a low sound. Like a sigh of relief. Finally, someone who isn't an irritant about it.]

Something with protein in it. ...No empty calorie crap, like Americans eat. [I.E, order him a hamburger and he might have a problem.] The choices here are crap, but it's not like there's much option for anything else. [Space Cafeterias suck almost as much as the mess hall in SEP did.]

[She takes a step back, more out of uncertainty than fear.]

No, ghosts do not exist.

[Well, she supposes they don't, but:] My people did use to store memories of the living and could use such memories to create sentient holograms upon their death.

My father--

[She stops, shaking her head. No need to tell a total stranger who's been nothing but rude to her about her father.]

So you are not a physical being?

Edited 2017-02-09 21:48 (UTC)

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Already choking on my pride [OPEN]

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