[Yes, he did say forget about it--but it was exactly that kind of avoidance that makes you seem suspicious. Or maybe he's just embarrassed about confessing and doesn't want to talk about it.
Reaper gives a small snort.]
I'll forget about it about as quickly as you do. You're not the only one who showed sides of yourself you tried to bury, idiot.
[And as for ABOUT Amelie... he stares at the rest of dodger's text, annoyed. Maybe he'd just made a lucky guess with that 'dead husband' bit, as it was too on the head, but... it wasn't as if he was going to discuss Gerard with anyone. He hadn't even talked to Widow about that yet, so...]
Don't bring up past relationships. Don't bother her with petty questions that get too personal. And always keep in mind that if you irritate her, she can easily kill you from about 200 meters away.
i know her name, i know she's french. i know she was a ballet dancer, she had a husband, and it's an educated guess that her husband died. otherwise i couldn't see someone like her ending up associated with someone like you. if i had to guess, something happened to overwatch. fucked you up, fucked him up, fucked everyone up. and you two turned on whatever caused it.
either she's the product of some crazy genetic manipulation game or she has a batman complex, re: the spiders. becoming her greatest fear, that sort of shit. and if she hangs around you, i'm guessing she doesn't have much going on in her home life that would make her feel bad about dying on the job.
Sounds like you've gotten plenty of information about her. Hardly see why you're interested in getting more.
Overwatch was a mistake. What happened to it was inevitable, and it fucking burned to the ground. It fucked up everyone who was involved, in varying degrees. Plenty of people, like her husband died. The circumstances of it are too long a story to tell--all you need to know is that it's a sad story that needs a fucking ending. Not to be revived like it currently is.
As for Widowmaker herself, she's not a product of anything. She's human. She's just under a drug that causes her heart rate to slow down to a point of turning her skin that colour.
[He's leaving out the sleeper agent bit--also not necessary to tell.]
We work for Talon. So we work together due to our background together--and how we work well together. That's really all there is to it.
If you think I believe that for a second, you're wrong. There's always a reason to wanting information, whether or not you think it's important.
And the man you spoke with while we were both not ourselves isn't one that exists anymore. Neither in name, morals, or in physical appearance. It's exactly why I don't show my face anymore.
let me rephrase that. it isn't important for you to know. not unless i'm getting something out of it.
looks like we've both got that in common with widowmaker, huh. dying and becoming new, better selves. all the better to kill people that get in our way with.
i want to see your face. but i'm guessing that doesn't surprise you.
It's a common circumstance. Especially when you work with organizations who are willing to throw away the lives of just about anyone to make the government look good.
And I'm telling you that you don't want to see my face.
It doesn't surprise me that you want to. And it won't surprise me when you reply that 'you don't care' what I look like under it, either.
[Should Reaper be concerned with how quickly Dodger gets there? Probably, because his room is nowhere near the 8th floor and he manages to flash into existence almost immediately after he sends his text. Wearing a smile that manages to be both lazy and excited.]
[Yeah, it's every fucking bit concerning, both in text and in action. He's not unused to people just appearing out of thin air--Nico does it around him often enough, and he does it himself. So instead of looking startled or any bit surprised, he just turns his head from where he's sitting, offering the other nothing more than a lazy turn of his head.]
Hasn't been that long.
[There's absolutely no buildup to his next action, either. No slow, careful removal of his mask, but rather, he simply reaches up to tug it off, with a nearly 'are you satisfied' air to his movements and expression.]
[An expression that's... hard to read, what with how his eyes seem to be sunken into his head. Hollow, dark black pits where bright whites with dark brown irises once sat. The core of his pupil little more than a glowing red ember that gives his pallid, dark skin an unearthly glow. Once healthy dark skin is marred, visible vains showing on his face--scars that might have once looked good look like jagged cracks in his skin that nearly glow at the core--as if he's still burning just under the surface of skin and scar tissue. It doesn't help the appearance of 'something burning' as black fog seems to slowly seep out from the patches of muscle and skin that are broken--even more so from a section of his cheek that's entirely missing flesh, showing teeth nearly up to his jawline in a smile that would be far too large were he to ever make the expression.
[Dodger would offer a quip, but... then the mask is off and he's absolutely blown away.
Dodger has always been a very sick, twisted person. His description of a perfect human being would be far from conventional, and he's never expected anyone to understand or approve of it. But here he sees a man who he already knew to be intelligent, untrusting and callous, wracked by the scars that are left from what he can only assume was a literal trip through hell. Proof that he's lived through things worth calling a life.
He looks unique, and broken, and perfect. And for a while Dodger's gaze just flits over each inch of his skin, taking in every detail. If he's not going to get the chance again, he wants this burned into his memory.]
Don't make a habit of weaving elaborate stories, kid.
[And it would be when he speaks that the other would be forced to realise that the hollow, grating sound that his voice makes isn't some effect from wearing the highly stylized mask. The sound of it echoing out from a burned out throat that sounds wholly supernatural.
When he speaks, black smoke escapes his mouth as if he's been smoking, curling up and around the exposed teeth on his cheek, and between his lips. Even the gums of his teeth are greying as he scowls a little.]
[His gaze follows the smoke into the sky for a moment, before looking back at Reaper. He looks almost giddy, like a kid who's gotten the go-ahead to open his Christmas presents.
Sure, Reaper said not to touch, but it's almost unconsciously that Dodger takes a step closer and reaches to run his fingers over the ragged skin around that missing cheek. He expects to be stopped, but he can't help hoping.]
[He had told him not to. And he wasn't about to stand there and let him. He watches that hand carefully with a sharp look in pitted, glow-red eyes--and the moment the others' fingers brush against the hollow part of his cheek, his entire form shifts.]
[One moment, he's standing in front of a seated man who looks like a living corpse, and in the next, Reaper's entire form is nothing but a cloud of black fog. It curls and shifts almost violently, flowing around the other in a rush--smelling every bit like burning carbon and ozone. The fog reforms behind the other, a hand on his back as the taller male gives him a shove--his hood having fallen down to his shoulders.]
[He flinches slightly as Reaper loses his form, and whips past him. It's very similar to his own teleportation, so it's not the power that bothers him; it's the forceful way he's rejected, not that he didn't expect it. And when he's shoved he puts minimal effort to stay on his feet, giving Reaper a sullen look.]
Just got curious.
[But if he's given an inch he'll take a mile, and they both know that. So he doesn't expect the line to be redrawn any time soon.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Reaper gives a small snort.]
I'll forget about it about as quickly as you do. You're not the only one who showed sides of yourself you tried to bury, idiot.[And as for ABOUT Amelie... he stares at the rest of dodger's text, annoyed. Maybe he'd just made a lucky guess with that 'dead husband' bit, as it was too on the head, but... it wasn't as if he was going to discuss Gerard with anyone. He hadn't even talked to Widow about that yet, so...]
Don't bring up past relationships. Don't bother her with petty questions that get too personal.And always keep in mind that if you irritate her, she can easily kill you from about 200 meters away.
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doesn't seem to stop most people from pissing me off. but i guess she's got the attitude for it.
[And she's not the one who starts fights.]
you didn't answer me about her husband. that's important.
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I'm not obligated to give you answers. You should know that by now.
So tell me how much she told you, and I might feel obligated to expand on her answers a little.
As I said, she's one of my Associates.
[Associates--friends, one from his past, one who he hasn't been able to kill, even if he thinks about how it would be a mercy, even now.]
I'm not in the habit of making gossip of other peoples' lives.no subject
either she's the product of some crazy genetic manipulation game or she has a batman complex, re: the spiders. becoming her greatest fear, that sort of shit. and if she hangs around you, i'm guessing she doesn't have much going on in her home life that would make her feel bad about dying on the job.
am i getting warm?
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Sounds like you've gotten plenty of information about her. Hardly see why you're interested in getting more.
Overwatch was a mistake. What happened to it was inevitable, and it fucking burned to the ground. It fucked up everyone who was involved, in varying degrees. Plenty of people, like her husband died. The circumstances of it are too long a story to tell--all you need to know is that it's a sad story that needs a fucking ending. Not to be revived like it currently is.
As for Widowmaker herself, she's not a product of anything. She's human. She's just under a drug that causes her heart rate to slow down to a point of turning her skin that colour.
[He's leaving out the sleeper agent bit--also not necessary to tell.]
We work for Talon. So we work together due to our background together--and how we work well together. That's really all there is to it.no subject
so, overwatch. is that why you don't show your face anymore? got some kind of damage worse than the last time i saw you?
[Apparently when he was told "That's all you need to know" all he heard was "Let's chat about this for the next seven hours."]
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If you think I believe that for a second, you're wrong. There's always a reason to wanting information, whether or not you think it's important.
And the man you spoke with while we were both not ourselves isn't one that exists anymore. Neither in name, morals, or in physical appearance. It's exactly why I don't show my face anymore.
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looks like we've both got that in common with widowmaker, huh. dying and becoming new, better selves. all the better to kill people that get in our way with.
i want to see your face. but i'm guessing that doesn't surprise you.
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It's a common circumstance. Especially when you work with organizations who are willing to throw away the lives of just about anyone to make the government look good.
And I'm telling you that you don't want to see my face.
It doesn't surprise me that you want to. And it won't surprise me when you reply that 'you don't care' what I look like under it, either.
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we can make that an actual bet if you want. whatever you like, if i end up creeped out.
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A bet like that? It's in your favour, and we both know it. As I told you before, it's not your opinion I care about.
Instead, we'll make an agreement.
I'll show you what's under it, and you don't say a damn thing about it.
And it'll be the first and last time.
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do i get to touch it?
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I'll be the judge of that.
And absolutely not.
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you free now?
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Free enough.
Balcony of the housing complex.
I'm sure you already know which one I'm staying in.
[Stalker.]
--> action
[Should Reaper be concerned with how quickly Dodger gets there? Probably, because his room is nowhere near the 8th floor and he manages to flash into existence almost immediately after he sends his text. Wearing a smile that manages to be both lazy and excited.]
Long time no see.
1/2 > action
Hasn't been that long.
[There's absolutely no buildup to his next action, either. No slow, careful removal of his mask, but rather, he simply reaches up to tug it off, with a nearly 'are you satisfied' air to his movements and expression.]
2/2
Once healthy dark skin is marred, visible vains showing on his face--scars that might have once looked good look like jagged cracks in his skin that nearly glow at the core--as if he's still burning just under the surface of skin and scar tissue.
It doesn't help the appearance of 'something burning' as black fog seems to slowly seep out from the patches of muscle and skin that are broken--even more so from a section of his cheek that's entirely missing flesh, showing teeth nearly up to his jawline in a smile that would be far too large were he to ever make the expression.
He doesn't offer a single word.]
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Dodger has always been a very sick, twisted person. His description of a perfect human being would be far from conventional, and he's never expected anyone to understand or approve of it. But here he sees a man who he already knew to be intelligent, untrusting and callous, wracked by the scars that are left from what he can only assume was a literal trip through hell. Proof that he's lived through things worth calling a life.
He looks unique, and broken, and perfect. And for a while Dodger's gaze just flits over each inch of his skin, taking in every detail. If he's not going to get the chance again, he wants this burned into his memory.]
Shit... you weren't kidding.
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[And it would be when he speaks that the other would be forced to realise that the hollow, grating sound that his voice makes isn't some effect from wearing the highly stylized mask. The sound of it echoing out from a burned out throat that sounds wholly supernatural.
When he speaks, black smoke escapes his mouth as if he's been smoking, curling up and around the exposed teeth on his cheek, and between his lips. Even the gums of his teeth are greying as he scowls a little.]
Satisfied?
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[His gaze follows the smoke into the sky for a moment, before looking back at Reaper. He looks almost giddy, like a kid who's gotten the go-ahead to open his Christmas presents.
Sure, Reaper said not to touch, but it's almost unconsciously that Dodger takes a step closer and reaches to run his fingers over the ragged skin around that missing cheek. He expects to be stopped, but he can't help hoping.]
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Just got curious.
[But if he's given an inch he'll take a mile, and they both know that. So he doesn't expect the line to be redrawn any time soon.]
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