(Untitled)

[gotpoetryinme]

There's a man in a bowler hat and a fur overcoat sitting in a snowbank out back. He's currently looking out at the frozen lake, pistol in hand.

Not much interesting about him except for the fresh, gaping, self-inflicted headwound.

He's a little upset, but botherable.

Comments

[crabbycustomer]

In the dead of winter, the sun is like a tiny tarnished coin, and Karkat feels a lot better about being out here. It helps to tell himself that it is another moon. He is getting used to it.

So it is that there is a grey-faced adolescent with nubby but brightly-colored horns, kicking slush out of the worn path out to the forge. He is bundled up in a black corduroy jacket; the Cancer symbol is embroidered in red, which is another thing he's getting used to.

The guy with a hole in his head doesn't get a second look, because Karkat notices the problem on the first one. He can smell blood. "OH WHAT THE FUCK, I UNDERSTAND YOU CAN'T HELP BEING DEAD BUT YOU COULD AT LEAST COVER THAT SHIT UP. SOME OF US JUST ATE." Despite his bluster, his eyes are a little wide, and--it's hard to tell, but his pallor might be a little more pallid.

[crabbycustomer]

"GETTING SOMETHING OUT OF MY INVENTORY, I AM SUPER-ADVANCED AND AMAZING, SO I HAVE A WAY OF CARRYING STUFF THAT DOESN'T TAKE UP AS MUCH AS SPACE AS CRAMMING THINGS INTO MY POCKETS LIKE A GODDAMN SAVAGE."

He shakes a handful of grey diamond-shaped soft candies into his hand; to a modern-era human, they would look like Gushers, because that was what they were alchemized from. He pops them in his mouth and chews. He is willing to talk with his mouth full, too.

"IN CASE YOU FORGOT, YOU FUCKING SHOT ME. THESE WILL HEAL IT." He is being ruder than usual for Milliways, but about average for his usual behavior outside the bar; he figures once you have shot him, you have given up your rights to multicultural courtesy for a while.

[gotpoetryinme]

McCabe shakes his head and buries his face in one of his palms. This wasn't any weirder than anything else he'd seen in Milliways, but taken together it was starting to add up to a little bit too much.

"Sooner or later this place is gonna drive me outta my goddamn mind," he mutters.

[crabbycustomer]

Karkat rolls his eyes, and puts away his stuff. "JEGUS FUCK, I CAN'T BELIEVE IT SOMEHOW BECAME MY JOB TO SIT HERE AND COMFORT THE GUY WHO SHOT ME."

"LOOK, HUMANS MOSTLY DON'T MAKE ANY GODDAMN SENSE TO ME AND NOW I AM STUCK LIVING HERE WITH A WHOLE SHITLOAD OF YOU PINK MONKEYS. THE ONLY WAY TO DEAL WITH IT IS TO NOT GIVE A FUCK. YOU ARE YOU AND THEY ARE THEM AND IT'S NOT YOUR PROBLEM. YOU CAN TAKE THE STUFF THAT WORKS FOR YOU AND JUST IGNORE THE STUFF THAT DOESN'T."

"I THINK THE HUMAN WORD FOR THAT IS 'MULTICULTURALISM,' IT'S WEIRD YOU HAVEN'T HEARD OF THAT." It is not a concept trolls celebrate, by and large.

[gotpoetryinme]

I don't know if that was even a word back in 1901. If it was, it certainly wasn't a widely-shared value.

"Well, place has got good whiskey at least," he says. "Maybe I could invite you 'n' some o' your not-demon buddies, hire some whores and have a night on the goddamn town. Make the best o' the situation. Hell, we can invite Old Nick. What do you say to that?"

McCabe starts to laugh. It starts as a chuckle and slowly builds to full-on shrieking maniacal laughter.

[crabbycustomer]

Karkat rotates his shoulder, testing the effect of the healing slime in the gushers, and rises to his feet when it appears to be taken car of. "OKAY, WELL, I AM GOING TO ABSCOND AWAY FROM THE HOT MESS THAT IS YOUR LIFE, BECAUSE THE LAST THING I NEED IS YET ANOTHER GIGGLING MORON DEPENDENT ON ME, BUT BEFORE I GO, IF I LEAVE THIS GUN HERE, ARE YOU GOING TO DO ANYTHING FURTHER WITH IT OF A COMPLETELY RETARDED NATURE?"

[gotpoetryinme]

McCabe shakes his head. A Jack Torrance grin is plastered onto his face.

[crabbycustomer]

Karkat glares dubiously at this expression. "YES, ALL RIGHT, THAT IS EXCEPTIONALLY CONVINCING." A blank card appears in his hand, and then the gun vanishes, the card splitting into red and blue halves that themselves evaporate. He shakes his head and turns to continue to the forge.

[gotpoetryinme]

McCabe starts after the troll. "Now you wait a goddamn minute, that gun's Swedish!"

[crabbycustomer]

Karkat rolls his eyes, and keeps walking. "I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS, DOES IT MEAN IT WILL ONLY FIRE ON PEOPLE WHO WILL SURVIVE BEING SHOT? BECAUSE IF NOT YOU'RE NOT GETTING IT BACK, THE NEXT KID YOU BLOW A HOLE IN MIGHT NOT BE AS PREPARED TO SHRUG IT OFF, YOU GODDAMN MANIAC."

[gotpoetryinme]

McCabe's nostrils flare. He has the powerful urge to bring the Dillinger hidden up his sleeve to bear. Then he remembers the effect his last gunshot had and decides to keep it hidden for now. Though maybe a better shot would have more success...

"Now you listen, I ain't gonna ask you a third time."

OOC: We could talk to a security mun or he could decide against it.

[crabbycustomer]

At this range, a low-powered pistol like the Derringer couldn't hurt Karkat even with a direct hit. "THAT'S RIGHT, YOU AREN'T," he says, continuing to walk towards the forge. "BECAUSE IF I HEAR ANY MORE DIPSHIT SQUAWKING FROM YOU I WILL COME BACK AND CUT OFF BOTH YOUR ARMS AND I WILL KEEP THOSE TOO. IT MAY NOT KILL YOU BUT I PROMISE IT WILL BE FUCKING INCONVENIENT."

The truth is, until McCabe threatened him again, Karkat was ready to walk away with no hard feelings. He has lived a rough and tumble life on a rough and tumble world. But when someone who has shot you once starts to make threatening noises, you need to take action.

The Tinkerblade appears in his hand; despite the silly name, it's a heavy sickle with a blade of polished, sharpened bone. It does not look like this one will heal you. He does turn now, fixing the adult with a yellow glare. "I HAVE DECIDED I HAVE HEARD ENOUGH WHINY BULLSHIT FOR ONE DAY. KEEP YOUR MOAN FUNNEL CLAMPED UNTIL I GET TO THE FORGE, YOU SELF-PITYING BAG OF GARBAGE, OR YOU ARE GOING TO START LOSING

[gotpoetryinme]

McCabe stares the troll down for a good ten seconds. He feels the derringer keenly in his right sleeve. His arm is tensed and poised to move.

Then he sneers and shakes his head. "Aw, t'hell with this shit."

He turns around and walks toward the lake.

OOC: Derringer, not Dillinger. Derp.