[for Nicki and Lloyd] after the fight

[number97a413]

It's been a few says since the fight, if you can really even call it that.  Miguel prefers not to, thinks it's better in the long run if he thinks about it as that time he got pissed and beat up a stranger for no reason

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[kingshit_lloyd]

Lloyd stopped a few feet behind him, hair damp and towel wrapped around his waist (the gunslingers were trying to arrange him a shower in his spiffy new hut, but for now, all that thing managed to squirt out was dirt -- and something that had looked like a snail, once), watching Miguel through the mirror for a few seconds before coming closer.

"Jesus, man," he muttered, with the the kind of hushed concern that could turn into anger real quick. "What the fuck happened to your face?"

Sure, Miguel was a big boy and it was kind of dumb to feel protective of him, but the guy had issues -- with meds and everything -- and Lloyd couldn't fucking help it. The fact that he'd been responsible for Miguel's previous facial damage did nothing to help him relax.

[number97a413]

"What, you don't recognize a face burger when you see one," as in tenderized, as in fists softening up the meat of his cheek. It's kind of a mean thing to say, considering their recently broken vows of silence where the other was concerned, but not half as mean as he'd been the other day.

"I let some asshole get to me and we beat the shit out of each other," he says easily, like it just happens every day.

[kingshit_lloyd]

"Just makin' sure," Lloyd said, sounding a little defensive. There was more than one way to mess up your face, and while the one involving fists was a proud tradition, he'd managed a couple of others in his day. Once, when he'd been royally plastered, he'd managed to walk straight into a tree.

It just wasn't quite as poetic.

"What'd he do?" he asked, not sounding near as casual about it -- sounding more like he was asking if that asshole was in need of a little more beating, actually.

[number97a413]

"Was born? I don't fucking know, I let him push my buttons. It was stupid." What he doesn't really want to admit is that it wasn't just some smackdown, lose your temper and pounds a kid into the dirt. He'd gotten into that shit, let the kid come at him a few more times than was really necessary. Yeah, it had been stupid, yeah, it was fucked up--but it had also been fun, for a minute.

"I don't even know his fucking name, man, he's just some guy."

[howto_submit]

She hated those communal bathrooms. They were beyond inappropriate, and she could feel her skin crawl every time she stepped into them, but the showers in the compound were always better than what she could get from the plumbing in her own hut, and she might've been just a piece of Juniper Creek Compound trash, but she'd always enjoyed the simple luxury of a flushing toilet.

Throwing open the door, she let out a sharp gasp of surprise, descending on him with a look of both accusation and concern.

"What have you gone and done to yourself?"

[number97a413]

Though he will deny it later, Miguel totally shrinks up against the sink in some effort to protect himself from her. Which he thinks is justified, on the one hand because Nicki is kind of terrifying, and on the other because she does things like drag him off to see corpsicles.

Not that being an ass has much to do with self-preservation: "I just decided to punch myself in the head, repeatedly. What the fuck do you think I did to myself?"

[howto_submit]

"Well, I can see that sour attitude of yours is still intact," she replied stiffly, cocking her head and leveling him with a look that was unmistakably unamused.

"Would you like to continue prodding at yourself in peace, or would you like a little help?"

[number97a413]

"Hey," he says, holding up his hands and shrugging like she's the one who needs to chill, "if you want to put your hands all over me, I ain't gonna say no."

Another time, it might be flirtation; today, he's just being a dick.