[DONE] Ep. 2 - Dear God, What Happened To You?! [Deuce]
Jun 29, 2015 22:23:26 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Jun 29, 2015 22:23:26 GMT -5
When he glanced at her again, the singer was crouched on that same tree, making a face. There was no way she was going to be able to clamber up Deuce, until he had mindset of picking her up and putting her on his shoulder. For now, she'd have to do with cleaning off whatever parts of him were safely in human reach. She hopped back down, going back to scrubbing off what muck and dead plants she could with her bare hands.
"Why should you apologize?"
She couldn't help that bitter edge that came to her voice. It was nearly as chilly as the body animated by Deuce's spark. It was gone when she spoke after a moment more, yanking hard on a long weed stuck to Deuce's leg.
"You worry me a lot. You go and disappear and make stupid lies up to try and make me feel better. I don't pry because I'm not rude, but honestly? I'm glad it took you less time than I thought to come to the conclusion that yes, I am not always hunky-dory with the shit you get up to."
The singer moved further down his leg a bit. She scrunched her nose up at a dead fish carcass, squashed flat against the jet's leg like it had been steamrolled. It looked like a trout of some kind, so it must have come from the pond. The singer gingerly pried it off, flinging it away with more force than she intended. The rag in her hand went next to that spot.
"You're not the first person I've been with that has had your attitude. That devil-may-care, top-gung-ho, I'm-the-king-of-the-world shtick. I've learned from experience that people like you need space, and that you'll come to me in your own time, and that I should just smile and nod when you go off to do whatever you feel needs doing."
She stopped, and inhaled slowly. She held that breath, and exhaled, hesitant.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm ranting because.... Because I feel kind of vulnerable after exploding at you. Or useless — take your pick. Because I think you're not telling me that you're actually almost dead, because apologizing is totally out of character for you, you're rambling, and you've somehow fucked up your arm. All of your body language matches someone in some degree of pain, no matter the fact we're from entirely different solar systems."
Her eyes went to the flier's tired face. Her expression was somehow hard and soft, flickering back and forth for a moment before it settled into curious concern. Her eyebrows rose as she eyed her giant companion.
"...How do you turn into an icicle when you're teleporting around, anyways? Where'd you go, the Arctic?"
"I'm sorry if I worried you."
"Why should you apologize?"
She couldn't help that bitter edge that came to her voice. It was nearly as chilly as the body animated by Deuce's spark. It was gone when she spoke after a moment more, yanking hard on a long weed stuck to Deuce's leg.
"You worry me a lot. You go and disappear and make stupid lies up to try and make me feel better. I don't pry because I'm not rude, but honestly? I'm glad it took you less time than I thought to come to the conclusion that yes, I am not always hunky-dory with the shit you get up to."
The singer moved further down his leg a bit. She scrunched her nose up at a dead fish carcass, squashed flat against the jet's leg like it had been steamrolled. It looked like a trout of some kind, so it must have come from the pond. The singer gingerly pried it off, flinging it away with more force than she intended. The rag in her hand went next to that spot.
"You're not the first person I've been with that has had your attitude. That devil-may-care, top-gung-ho, I'm-the-king-of-the-world shtick. I've learned from experience that people like you need space, and that you'll come to me in your own time, and that I should just smile and nod when you go off to do whatever you feel needs doing."
She stopped, and inhaled slowly. She held that breath, and exhaled, hesitant.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm ranting because.... Because I feel kind of vulnerable after exploding at you. Or useless — take your pick. Because I think you're not telling me that you're actually almost dead, because apologizing is totally out of character for you, you're rambling, and you've somehow fucked up your arm. All of your body language matches someone in some degree of pain, no matter the fact we're from entirely different solar systems."
Her eyes went to the flier's tired face. Her expression was somehow hard and soft, flickering back and forth for a moment before it settled into curious concern. Her eyebrows rose as she eyed her giant companion.
"...How do you turn into an icicle when you're teleporting around, anyways? Where'd you go, the Arctic?"