Jason; Sewer
Jason spends so much time on his bed that it is a bit ridiculous somedays. Today, he is reading. Shakespeare or something. A play, it certainly is. He is waving a flashlight at the pages to improve their visibility.
With a clang, a grinding noise strikes up loudly in the large, round station hall. A bouncing light comes from the far end, not far from where the whine of metal was heard. Toad waddles into the main area, skirting close to the old station offices that make up the bedrooms. "Wake up!" The little man bellows before actually checking to see if anyone is sleeping. He pops into the first room, the light strapped to his head aimed directly where he's looking. Which happens to be Jason's face. Who needs dinky flashlights? "Fuck'r you doing?"
Jason blinks, bleary-blinded, and coughs once. Rather primly. "Reading."
"Fancy," Toad allows, giving a little hop step towards the other man. The light moves with him. "Now quit wastin' yer time. Stuff ter do 'round here, y'know."
"Like what? Interpretive dance?" Jason, true to form, is not moving. Reading is very important. If squinting is all he can do.
Toad snatches at the book to fling it away. "Why the hell not, mate? It'd be the most useful thing yer've done lately."
Jason /holds on/ doggedly. It is more important to win than to avoid ripping the book. "And what have /you/ been doing lately, my lazy amphibious friend?"
Toad tugs on the book, planting himself firmly on two feet. The light dashes for Jason's eyes. "I gutted tunnel c for the past few weeks. Gives us a clear path ter some tunnels that lead towards the park area. 'Fore long we'll 'ave little secret ways all 'round the city, thank you very much."
Jason keeps his hold on his book, stubborn, stubborn. "So, what do you want /me/ to do about it?"
Finally Toad forgoes the book and lunges instead to pry Jason off the bed by the front of his shirt. "Oh, yer see. I'm not completely sure if those tunnels 'r contaminated 'r not. So! Like a purty lit'l canary in a coal mine, I'm gonna see if you croak." For effect, Toad gives a deep-throated ribbit chased by a smirk.
Jason hangs so mildly by that front of his shirt. "You want to use me as a canary. And you think I won't destroy you."
"Not really, no," Toad says brightly, turning to drag Jason towards the door of his quarters.
Spitefully, Jason raises two fingers and flicks in Toad's direction. That amphibious head disappears.
And in turn, Jason is dropped. Hard. Perhaps thrown down, if someone was making note.
Jason thunks and the illusion wavers away as he has to deal with /ow/ in his back and the back of his head.
Toad slings his foot over the fallen man, flumping down to sit on Jason's stomach. He flips a bare foot up and presses it up against his friend's cheek. Long toes curl into Jason's pale skin near his ear. "Look up, Turtle. An' pay some goddamn attention."
Jason swallows, his near eye gone squinty again. This time from pressure. "I don't want to play your game."
"/My/ game?" Toad huffs, his cheeks puffing out. "Look, you lit'l dick. M'not yer fuckin' servin' boy. Bustin' my ass to make this place comfortable for yer scrawny ass while you lounge around readin' fuckin' romance novels."
"Macbeth is not a romance novel," Jason growls in a cramped, cramped way. "And who's been providing you with food and clothes and furniture? Don't get all huffy because I don't do exactly what you do."
Toad's foot slides off Jason's face slowly, likely leaving a grime smudge or two. "Yer an ass, you know that?"
"And you aren't?" Snipe, snipe. Jason doesn't move yet.
Toad snorts. "Never said I wozn't, mate. Dun' jizz too much over this Macbeth guy or who's ever pinup yer've got stashed in there. Last thing I want the place ter smell like."
"It's /Macbeth/. There are no /pictures/," Jason protests from the floor.
"Uh huh." Toad mumbles, trudging towards the door. "So, oh mighty provider. Get off yer ass an' provide some lunch."
"Yes /sir/," Jason says as he drags himself onto his hands and knees.
Toad leans up in the doorway. "You want another light in 'ere?" he wonders in a vague voice, eying Jason's flashlight.
"Nah. It's usually okay." Jason finishes hefting himself standing, brushing his face off with a long draw of his hand.
"Another light," Toad decides anyways.
"Whatever," Jason says friendly like and starts walking.
Toad makes a grunt of noise, slipping off towards his own area.
Jason scuffs off Grumpily.
Jason and Mortimer discuss fine literature.
With a clang, a grinding noise strikes up loudly in the large, round station hall. A bouncing light comes from the far end, not far from where the whine of metal was heard. Toad waddles into the main area, skirting close to the old station offices that make up the bedrooms. "Wake up!" The little man bellows before actually checking to see if anyone is sleeping. He pops into the first room, the light strapped to his head aimed directly where he's looking. Which happens to be Jason's face. Who needs dinky flashlights? "Fuck'r you doing?"
Jason blinks, bleary-blinded, and coughs once. Rather primly. "Reading."
"Fancy," Toad allows, giving a little hop step towards the other man. The light moves with him. "Now quit wastin' yer time. Stuff ter do 'round here, y'know."
"Like what? Interpretive dance?" Jason, true to form, is not moving. Reading is very important. If squinting is all he can do.
Toad snatches at the book to fling it away. "Why the hell not, mate? It'd be the most useful thing yer've done lately."
Jason /holds on/ doggedly. It is more important to win than to avoid ripping the book. "And what have /you/ been doing lately, my lazy amphibious friend?"
Toad tugs on the book, planting himself firmly on two feet. The light dashes for Jason's eyes. "I gutted tunnel c for the past few weeks. Gives us a clear path ter some tunnels that lead towards the park area. 'Fore long we'll 'ave little secret ways all 'round the city, thank you very much."
Jason keeps his hold on his book, stubborn, stubborn. "So, what do you want /me/ to do about it?"
Finally Toad forgoes the book and lunges instead to pry Jason off the bed by the front of his shirt. "Oh, yer see. I'm not completely sure if those tunnels 'r contaminated 'r not. So! Like a purty lit'l canary in a coal mine, I'm gonna see if you croak." For effect, Toad gives a deep-throated ribbit chased by a smirk.
Jason hangs so mildly by that front of his shirt. "You want to use me as a canary. And you think I won't destroy you."
"Not really, no," Toad says brightly, turning to drag Jason towards the door of his quarters.
Spitefully, Jason raises two fingers and flicks in Toad's direction. That amphibious head disappears.
And in turn, Jason is dropped. Hard. Perhaps thrown down, if someone was making note.
Jason thunks and the illusion wavers away as he has to deal with /ow/ in his back and the back of his head.
Toad slings his foot over the fallen man, flumping down to sit on Jason's stomach. He flips a bare foot up and presses it up against his friend's cheek. Long toes curl into Jason's pale skin near his ear. "Look up, Turtle. An' pay some goddamn attention."
Jason swallows, his near eye gone squinty again. This time from pressure. "I don't want to play your game."
"/My/ game?" Toad huffs, his cheeks puffing out. "Look, you lit'l dick. M'not yer fuckin' servin' boy. Bustin' my ass to make this place comfortable for yer scrawny ass while you lounge around readin' fuckin' romance novels."
"Macbeth is not a romance novel," Jason growls in a cramped, cramped way. "And who's been providing you with food and clothes and furniture? Don't get all huffy because I don't do exactly what you do."
Toad's foot slides off Jason's face slowly, likely leaving a grime smudge or two. "Yer an ass, you know that?"
"And you aren't?" Snipe, snipe. Jason doesn't move yet.
Toad snorts. "Never said I wozn't, mate. Dun' jizz too much over this Macbeth guy or who's ever pinup yer've got stashed in there. Last thing I want the place ter smell like."
"It's /Macbeth/. There are no /pictures/," Jason protests from the floor.
"Uh huh." Toad mumbles, trudging towards the door. "So, oh mighty provider. Get off yer ass an' provide some lunch."
"Yes /sir/," Jason says as he drags himself onto his hands and knees.
Toad leans up in the doorway. "You want another light in 'ere?" he wonders in a vague voice, eying Jason's flashlight.
"Nah. It's usually okay." Jason finishes hefting himself standing, brushing his face off with a long draw of his hand.
"Another light," Toad decides anyways.
"Whatever," Jason says friendly like and starts walking.
Toad makes a grunt of noise, slipping off towards his own area.
Jason scuffs off Grumpily.
Jason and Mortimer discuss fine literature.