WHO:
swwag and his
hasgonehonkersWHERE: ~*~Somewhere in New Jersey~*~
WHEN: I DON'T... KNOW... SOMETIME DURING THE RIOTS I GUESS
WARNINGS: MOTHERFUCKERS AND FISH PUNS AS FAR AS THE EYE CAN SEE
SUMMARY: Eridan and Gamzee have a hatedate during the rioting and get thrown out of a Waffle House. Then they duel about it.
FORMAT: PARA TO START, ANYTHING AFTERWARDS
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YEP )
If there weren't so many people around at least one finger of Eridan's would be snatched up and slowly bent backwards. That or Gamzee would at least threaten to break the pinky and smack Eridan with his own jewelry. As it was Gamzee just had to settle with reaching over with the intent to grab Eridan's tapping hand, glaring hard enough that in theory he wouldn't need to say why he was trying to do this.
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Then Gamzee grabbed his hand, and with a slight start and a narrowing of his eyes, Eridan pulled back. A sharp tug, actually, enough to communicate his irritation just as wordlessly.
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Amazingly enough they'd gotten his order right, ribeye steak with fries and biscuits on the side (fuck getting waffles at Waffle House, he could make better waffles at home). He wasn't sure if they'd gotten Eridan's order right, but he'd let Eridan speak for himself on that. For the moment he was going to eat a biscuit and try not to just cram it in his mouth despite the strong temptation to do so. He didn't have much going for him, but at least Gamzee could pretend to be a little mannered sometimes.
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"I was thinkin' a maybe headin' back to the City early," Eridan finally mentioned at length, doing the opposite of Gamzee and ignoring the disquieting amount of blood around his mouth. He was a prince, and these redblooded bastards didn't have anywhere near the authority to comment on his manners. He gestured to Gamzee with his knife. "They're hawin' riots or somesuch. We could get in and out without anyone payin' much attention to us, probably."
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"Sounds all up at being good to my ownself. And my own-motherfuckin'-self. But I'm not all sure you can get at up at being anywhere without all getting on your ownself up in being noticed," he pointed right at Eridan's chin, "For motherfuckin' being up at being a motherfuckin' prince you're not all motherfuckin' being up at in much of one, motherfucker."
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Or at it, anyway, maybe it'd hit his face or something. Then he reached for his coffee, switching out the anger for his normal patronizing.
"Remember who's the hemosuperior here."
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It would have been difficult anyway to focus on watching Eridan deal with a potential coffee disaster, cutting his steak, and going for a last second "accidental" kick at the same time. Just sticking with the cutting and kicking was more than enough.
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Then he threw both coffee - still steaming hot black coffee, actually - and paper ball at the general direction of Gamzee's face. The gauntlet was thrown.
It was on.
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Gamzee sat for a moment, letting the hot black liquid stream down his face. Then he set down his utensils, bending his fork as he did. For a split second anyone could see that the clown's make-up was running a little into his snarl. In the next second Gamzee lunged across the table and hit anything he got his hands on, making it hard to see much of anything of the boy besides a blur.
The staff rushed over, yelling something that Gamzee couldn't make out.
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Kind of difficult when your opponent could flash step.
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Whether the punch landed or not Gamzee couldn't be sure as he felt someone yank him up from the back of his shirt - was Eridan grabbed just then too? - and was forcibly tossed out the restaurant's door.
"Don't even think about coming back!" he heard right before the doors were slammed shut.
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Instead he turned his attention - and growing wrath - towards Gamzee.
"Get outta the dirt, shitblood," he hissed, standing and drawing his wand. The subjugglator ought to know an impending duel when he saw one.
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"Motherfuckin' have it up at your motherfuckin' ownself's way, bro."
Gone and back again in an instant, the messiahs moved to hit the sea dweller from behind.
Without having the chance to reenter the restaurant, without having the chance to rend flesh from bone and make a whole dining room red, Gamzee would just have to focus all his rage on his awful prince. Which meant that though this was the one person the subjugglator wasn't aiming to kill right now he sure as hell wasn't going to just be hitting with a fist. He was swinging with a club though not his favorite one. Soon he'd come to see that that was probably his best decision in this fight.
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Then he threw himself bodily at Gamzee, reaching for the club.
"You wanna fuckin' fight in front of these slimy shitbloods and blow our cower?" he hissed, wand aimed as best as possible at some essential part of the subjugglator in case Gamzee decided to continue anyway.
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After a long pause he said "No. Where the motherfuck all do you up and motherfuckin' want to get at fighting then, motherfucker?"
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Man, this place had some really good duel mood lighting.
"Ower there," he muttered, stepping back and letting go of the club. His wand stayed aimed where it was, though. "Go on, get mowin'. We'll walk side-by-side."
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