![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[ zuko will never get a reply to that (which is fortunate, as it would have probably been something alone the lines of: are you sure it won't kill you?
but anyway... the door opens a handful of seconds later, revealing nic in all his beat up glory. at least he's stopped bleeding by now? but yeah, he doesn't really make a pretty picture at the moment, which is not really helped by the flat expression he gives the boy. ]
whAt kInD of CAKe?
but anyway... the door opens a handful of seconds later, revealing nic in all his beat up glory. at least he's stopped bleeding by now? but yeah, he doesn't really make a pretty picture at the moment, which is not really helped by the flat expression he gives the boy. ]
whAt kInD of CAKe?
[ he loves salisbury steak ok hope you like it too
and maybe some caprisun-like juice pouches one in each pocket ]
FROM: sawada.tsunayoshi@cdc.org
skeletons?????? it's like it's on purpose!
[ tsuna dont be racist what if they can't help who they are ..... ]
FROM: sawada.tsunayoshi@cdc.org
wasn't everything that happened enough??
someone even hung the cats head up for decoration!!
and maybe some caprisun-like juice pouches one in each pocket ]
FROM: sawada.tsunayoshi@cdc.org
skeletons?????? it's like it's on purpose!
[ tsuna dont be racist what if they can't help who they are ..... ]
FROM: sawada.tsunayoshi@cdc.org
wasn't everything that happened enough??
someone even hung the cats head up for decoration!!
FROM: akame@cdc.org
nic, do you want anything from the buffet? i tried looking for you, and i have a few things i couldn't finish, but don't want to waste.
[shut up, she's still trying to make up for interrogationfest 2014...whether you like it or not, senpai.]
nic, do you want anything from the buffet? i tried looking for you, and i have a few things i couldn't finish, but don't want to waste.
[shut up, she's still trying to make up for interrogationfest 2014...whether you like it or not, senpai.]
[on receiving that text after catching sight of a perfectly intact Nic, there's no more need to work up nerves. even if Nic couldn't hear it, he yelled; rounded the corner to face him, drew within ten feet, blackglass clutched on one side, volleyball tucked against the other.]
[the latter's thrown immediately at Nic's head. a soft object it may be, but for once, Hinata's aim was spectacular.]
[he'd feel a little bad after he noticed just how bad of shape the guy was in, but for now, it's all inelegance.]
You're stupider!
[the latter's thrown immediately at Nic's head. a soft object it may be, but for once, Hinata's aim was spectacular.]
[he'd feel a little bad after he noticed just how bad of shape the guy was in, but for now, it's all inelegance.]
You're stupider!
[ except he's coming nic you had better been ready to receive him
well— he does stop replying though, only because if he keeps typing things up, he has to stop every five minutes to try— and he's got food in hand, he isn't a lv. 100 waiter or anything like that ( very sorry to say ). he's eaten just a bit before, but running out of there meant he had to stuff as many things as he could onto one plate . . . bowl . . . container thing! that is to say— he's got a few dozen small patties stacked ( it looked like salisbury steak. he loved salisbury steak )— it's enough to split, and on top of that he's got juice. lots of grape / apple / what-have-you juices that are available to them, albeit stuffed into his front pockets while the back ones are occupied by his mittens. he's bringing what he can . . .
he's walking past a few rovers, subtly looking into the ones that go by ( he knew it was somewhere around here, he just didn't know which exactly— ) until he goes past the correct one where nic should be, a few moments later backpedaling, and—
awkwardly waiting by the door! a silent question of permission, really ( and while he'll go unheard, he still knocks at the entrance! ) ]
well— he does stop replying though, only because if he keeps typing things up, he has to stop every five minutes to try— and he's got food in hand, he isn't a lv. 100 waiter or anything like that ( very sorry to say ). he's eaten just a bit before, but running out of there meant he had to stuff as many things as he could onto one plate . . . bowl . . . container thing! that is to say— he's got a few dozen small patties stacked ( it looked like salisbury steak. he loved salisbury steak )— it's enough to split, and on top of that he's got juice. lots of grape / apple / what-have-you juices that are available to them, albeit stuffed into his front pockets while the back ones are occupied by his mittens. he's bringing what he can . . .
he's walking past a few rovers, subtly looking into the ones that go by ( he knew it was somewhere around here, he just didn't know which exactly— ) until he goes past the correct one where nic should be, a few moments later backpedaling, and—
awkwardly waiting by the door! a silent question of permission, really ( and while he'll go unheard, he still knocks at the entrance! ) ]
[UM
DEALWITHIT.JPG?? not anyone's fault that you're a bad baby, Nic.
also, wow...her eyes just wobbled a little from that...typing...speaking of bad babies...]
FROM: akame@cdc.org
no...i simply figured you weren't aware of the event, and assumed you might be hungry. where are you?
FROM: akame@cdc.org
is something the matter? your message looks a little strange.
DEALWITHIT.JPG?? not anyone's fault that you're a bad baby, Nic.
also, wow...her eyes just wobbled a little from that...typing...speaking of bad babies...]
FROM: akame@cdc.org
no...i simply figured you weren't aware of the event, and assumed you might be hungry. where are you?
FROM: akame@cdc.org
is something the matter? your message looks a little strange.
Edited 2014-12-27 06:07 (UTC)
[ For a moment, Zuko just stares at Nic with widened eyes. He might've expected to be greeted by a grumpy face (does Nic's face ever look not-grumpy?), but this was concerning. ]
What happened?
[ Oh, right, he should answer his question if he wants to stand any chance of actually being accepted inside.he just wants to be loved! ]
It's strawberry. Strawberries and cream.
What happened?
[ Oh, right, he should answer his question if he wants to stand any chance of actually being accepted inside.
It's strawberry. Strawberries and cream.
[ he catches the boy's scent and responds to it just in time to get a face-full of volleyball. it's a good thing he's not a normally loud person, because he gives nothing more than a strangled sound, half-muffled by the ball colliding against his mouth as his body is pitched backwards in his surprise.
he doesn't knock back against any shelves, thankfully, but he does wind up on his back, once more, thanks to this kid... this better not be a damned habit.
he sits back up, though, but his movements are slower, pointedly strained. the ball's rolling away, forgotten, his entire attention on the boy on the other end of the aisle.
what the actual hell??? ]
he doesn't knock back against any shelves, thankfully, but he does wind up on his back, once more, thanks to this kid... this better not be a damned habit.
he sits back up, though, but his movements are slower, pointedly strained. the ball's rolling away, forgotten, his entire attention on the boy on the other end of the aisle.
what the actual hell??? ]
[ tsuna no.............
it's a good thing nic happens to be leaning against the wall right where the door is, otherwise he would have never known there's someone on the other side, knocking. he can feel the gentle vibrations coming from the metal, and it startles him enough that he actually stands and slowly opens it to peer curiously at the other side.
only to stop dead once he sees who it is, bringing what he's bringing.
kid why. ]
...i'M NOt bUYIng.
it's a good thing nic happens to be leaning against the wall right where the door is, otherwise he would have never known there's someone on the other side, knocking. he can feel the gentle vibrations coming from the metal, and it startles him enough that he actually stands and slowly opens it to peer curiously at the other side.
only to stop dead once he sees who it is, bringing what he's bringing.
kid why. ]
...i'M NOt bUYIng.
FROM: forbes.caroline@cdc.org
Not those kind of teams.
Who do you think Bella should end up with in the end? Edward or Jacob?
Not those kind of teams.
Who do you think Bella should end up with in the end? Edward or Jacob?
[you could've been dead!]
[something like relief and something like shame flushes out the indignation that had prompted the throw. reflex makes him step forward (towards the rebounded volleyball); observation stalls his feet as Nic returns to up-right, slow as it is. the struggle catches his attention the most, opens his mouth for a brief second before snapping it closed.]
[bottom lip bitten - every emotion clearly displayed - and a long pause, wherein he wonders where what he wanted to say (he'd practiced it in the room!) fled to. it was going to get awkward... why was he worried about it growing awkward? he remembered what he'd started the ordeal for, but getting there was another beast--- the longer he stared, the more surreal it felt.]
[finally, hands clumsy from disuse but nonetheless drawn upon:]
What happened?
[because he couldn't start with what he'd came here for. it froze his fingers, stuck in his throat. but he could gesture to Nic's general state; he could use the gestures he should've used before.]
[something like relief and something like shame flushes out the indignation that had prompted the throw. reflex makes him step forward (towards the rebounded volleyball); observation stalls his feet as Nic returns to up-right, slow as it is. the struggle catches his attention the most, opens his mouth for a brief second before snapping it closed.]
[bottom lip bitten - every emotion clearly displayed - and a long pause, wherein he wonders where what he wanted to say (he'd practiced it in the room!) fled to. it was going to get awkward... why was he worried about it growing awkward? he remembered what he'd started the ordeal for, but getting there was another beast--- the longer he stared, the more surreal it felt.]
[finally, hands clumsy from disuse but nonetheless drawn upon:]
What happened?
[because he couldn't start with what he'd came here for. it froze his fingers, stuck in his throat. but he could gesture to Nic's general state; he could use the gestures he should've used before.]
FROM: akame@cdc.org
you know....when people say they're fine, they're usually not. it still doesn't look right, and i haven't seen anyone send out messages that look the way yours currently do.
i will ask again: where are you?
[tsun it once, tsun it twice, Nic. Akame deals with stubborn shonen idiots on a regular basis back home.]
you know....when people say they're fine, they're usually not. it still doesn't look right, and i haven't seen anyone send out messages that look the way yours currently do.
i will ask again: where are you?
[tsun it once, tsun it twice, Nic. Akame deals with stubborn shonen idiots on a regular basis back home.]
Edited 2014-12-29 04:46 (UTC)
[ nic doesn't even bother with that initial question, eyes barely flicking over the text as he lifts his wrist to look it over. instead, he just gives the cake a quick look, snatches it off the rest of zuko's burden (clumsily, though, as if his hands aren't quite working right), and turns back into the room, leaving the door for the boy to tend to.
by the time zuko joins him in the main area, he's already got half the cake shoved into his mouth, icing on his cheek and all. (he... probably hasn't had much to eat lately... oops.) ]
by the time zuko joins him in the main area, he's already got half the cake shoved into his mouth, icing on his cheek and all. (he... probably hasn't had much to eat lately... oops.) ]
[ the gestures were clumsy, but quicker to come to hinata than they had been, before, which is still a marked improvement, and something nic can't help but noting. (or, rather, something nic focuses on noting, if only for something other than the boy himself to focus on.)
he reads hinata's meaning well enough, and can surmise what hinata himself is referring to, but he doesn't answer right away. doesn't even really look at him, save for a swift, cursory look-over for any injuries, anything out of place— but no, tess would have surely taken him to medical if he'd had any, surely, surely. ]
SoMEone ThreW a BaLl aT mY HEAd, [ he finally replies, the worst stilted and rough, ground out between gritted teeth. doesn't bother with his signs, his hands, some fingers of which can probably be noticeably mangled, even from where hinata stands. ]
he reads hinata's meaning well enough, and can surmise what hinata himself is referring to, but he doesn't answer right away. doesn't even really look at him, save for a swift, cursory look-over for any injuries, anything out of place— but no, tess would have surely taken him to medical if he'd had any, surely, surely. ]
SoMEone ThreW a BaLl aT mY HEAd, [ he finally replies, the worst stilted and rough, ground out between gritted teeth. doesn't bother with his signs, his hands, some fingers of which can probably be noticeably mangled, even from where hinata stands. ]
[huh. was that right.]
[he sniffs, once. rubs the bottom of his nose. usually, if given the option, he'd default to speech-- harder for the other, sure, but faster in the long run. gestures stilted but persistent, at present, he kept with it. compared to the pause before, his reply is near instant.]
[wouldn't move forward. looked Nic directly in the eye only so long as the gaze weren't met - attention flitted between tired eyes and mangled fingers, his own health absolutely perfect in comparison (paler skin, bruised purple under his own set of exhausted eyes, smooth hands: he'd gotten the burn healed, though he swore it itched in time with the pock-marks across his hip).]
Why punch a door?
[a beat. before Nic could say anything - voice quiet, almost dusty, not that it mattered. eyes dropped to mangled hands; something smaller than it used to be clenched in his stomach.]
Tsuna told me.
[only enough to make a guess, anyway.]
[he sniffs, once. rubs the bottom of his nose. usually, if given the option, he'd default to speech-- harder for the other, sure, but faster in the long run. gestures stilted but persistent, at present, he kept with it. compared to the pause before, his reply is near instant.]
[wouldn't move forward. looked Nic directly in the eye only so long as the gaze weren't met - attention flitted between tired eyes and mangled fingers, his own health absolutely perfect in comparison (paler skin, bruised purple under his own set of exhausted eyes, smooth hands: he'd gotten the burn healed, though he swore it itched in time with the pock-marks across his hip).]
Why punch a door?
[a beat. before Nic could say anything - voice quiet, almost dusty, not that it mattered. eyes dropped to mangled hands; something smaller than it used to be clenched in his stomach.]
Tsuna told me.
[only enough to make a guess, anyway.]
[ it takes nic a moment to recall who this tsuna is — names weren't much to him these days, faces and behaviors cataloged away in his mind instead. possum, he remembers. and already he regrets letting the boy sit beside him that day.
instead of answering right away, he climbs back into a sitting position, body moving in heavy, sluggish gestures before he's got a back to the shelf once more, one knee drawn up while the other stretched out to just barely touch the other shelf across. ]
we HaD a disAgREeMenT.
[ maybe it is hinata's business, but only insofar as it would be the business of anyone who'd been around the observation deck that day — by extension. his reasons for doing what he did were his alone, and one he isn't particularly keen on divulging, whether due to pride or shame or an odd mixture of both.
(or maybe because he realizes it had never been his business in the first place.) ]
instead of answering right away, he climbs back into a sitting position, body moving in heavy, sluggish gestures before he's got a back to the shelf once more, one knee drawn up while the other stretched out to just barely touch the other shelf across. ]
we HaD a disAgREeMenT.
[ maybe it is hinata's business, but only insofar as it would be the business of anyone who'd been around the observation deck that day — by extension. his reasons for doing what he did were his alone, and one he isn't particularly keen on divulging, whether due to pride or shame or an odd mixture of both.
(or maybe because he realizes it had never been his business in the first place.) ]
[about what?]
[...]
[all at once: he's tired. such occurrences increased over the last eighty-plus hours. hot to cold, awake to exhausted, antsy to still. a frown makes its way onto his face, hands dropping to curl into the bottoms of the combat uniform's side pouches. shoulders droop in time, head angling downward as seconds tick back, thoughts running into why haven't you got that fixed, backpedaling into what was it about, ultimately leaving him with nothing to act upon.]
[the ball. three steps forward, stoops to grab it. ends up crouching on the toes of his feet, volleyball raised for seemingly close inspection.]
Like that, they're gonna mend funny. [in the same voice, a little less dusty. another sniff.] Then your fingers're going to be even lumpier than they already are, and the door's gonna know it won.
[the man's movements didn't sit right with him. even in his worst anger-- especially in his worst anger- Nic's fluidity, the assurance of power in every muscle, had been points of admiration. enforced, prolonged pain when they could be called to action at any moment... even beyond duty: self-enforced pain. absurd. unsettling.]
[he would've immediately written it off as another thing he couldn't understand, but. maybe it was time to chip away at that.]
[(it seemed important enough.)]
[...]
[all at once: he's tired. such occurrences increased over the last eighty-plus hours. hot to cold, awake to exhausted, antsy to still. a frown makes its way onto his face, hands dropping to curl into the bottoms of the combat uniform's side pouches. shoulders droop in time, head angling downward as seconds tick back, thoughts running into why haven't you got that fixed, backpedaling into what was it about, ultimately leaving him with nothing to act upon.]
[the ball. three steps forward, stoops to grab it. ends up crouching on the toes of his feet, volleyball raised for seemingly close inspection.]
Like that, they're gonna mend funny. [in the same voice, a little less dusty. another sniff.] Then your fingers're going to be even lumpier than they already are, and the door's gonna know it won.
[the man's movements didn't sit right with him. even in his worst anger-- especially in his worst anger- Nic's fluidity, the assurance of power in every muscle, had been points of admiration. enforced, prolonged pain when they could be called to action at any moment... even beyond duty: self-enforced pain. absurd. unsettling.]
[he would've immediately written it off as another thing he couldn't understand, but. maybe it was time to chip away at that.]
[(it seemed important enough.)]
Edited (important instropsection shh) 2014-12-29 08:52 (UTC)
FROM: akame@cdc.org
i heard those were electrified. and even if you survived, you'd still be too paralyzed to write.
tell me, or i'm finding you myself.
FROM: akame@cdc.org
while we're on that subject, have you at least had anything to drink at all within the past few hours?
[ready or not, nic, here she comes.]
i heard those were electrified. and even if you survived, you'd still be too paralyzed to write.
tell me, or i'm finding you myself.
FROM: akame@cdc.org
while we're on that subject, have you at least had anything to drink at all within the past few hours?
[ready or not, nic, here she comes.]
Page 20 of 38