[closed] job or no job, you can't tell me that i'm not;

[smokesplz]

WHO: Badou Nails (smokesplz) and Heine Rammsteiner (cerberus_cortex) AKA the BFFs4EVA.
WHAT: Badou needs picking up.
WHERE: Dooocks.
WHEN: Now~

Comments

[smokesplz]

"Really? Did we beat 'em?" Badou asked, feeling the itch of addiction squirming under his skin now that the initial excitement wore off, worming itself deep in his blood and followed after Heine, trying to put it to the back of his mind until he had something tangible to hold off the addiction or until there was someone that needed to die, because he could really go for some fucking ass-kicking right now.

He knew something wasn't right, saw it in the stupidly casual way Heine was talking, turned and fixed him with a stare, anxious and unsettled. "And Giovanni? He anything special?" he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his canvas jacket and absently felt around for any loose smokes, put away for a rainy day or some shit, not that he ever really concerned himself with anything but the present, coming up with gold, digging the cigarette out from the depths of his pocket and lighting it in a smooth movement before he muttered, "Found one," around it as he took a drag.

He remembered Naoto, the kinda scary hot chick that followed them outta Grannie's place right into a battlefield, but mostly, he remembered jumping out behind that pillar after Heine's seriously disturbing wink. Then, here. Shit.

[cerberus_cortex]

"We didn't die," he answered with a shrug, a bit noncommittal. "They didn't either." That was the easy part of these questions.

Giovanni. Well, that was harder. Especially with Badou looking at him like that, like he wanted an actual answer.

Heine watched him light the slightly battered cigarette and waited till he'd taken a good long drag off of it, almost as though the nicotine could be a balm on his own tension by proxy. "No," he said, avoiding Badou's eyes with a discomfort he couldn't quite hide. And then, "He's like me," which he knew was actually a pretty blatant contradiction of not being special.

There was a beat before he added, "And the Priest."

He wasn't even sure why he said it like that. He just turned as though to just keep on walking, as though he hadn't dropped what was probably the biggest bombshell he had right in Badou's lap with all the nonchalance of a delivery boy tossing the morning newspaper onto the front stoop. Maybe even talking about the Priest and who he really was-something that no one else even knew that Heine knew-was still easier than trying to explain Giovanni. Heine wasn't even sure he could explain Giovanni to himself right now.