[Yeah, he can tell that's not working. It doesn't matter anyway, his reply isn't going to come in the form of words, but rather, a billowing, buzzing cloud of shadow is going to form just outside the door to the matsu house. A fist coming forward to bang on it, just once.
He doesn't have to do any more than that for the other to, hopefully, realise a certain ghost is at the door.]
[His mask is on and pulled up over his face more than it usually is, covering his mouth and his nose and probably part of his eyes, the rest of him covered by him having pulled his hood up-- it's like he's hiding, but he's opening the door anyway.]
[Normally, he might start this conversation with some snide remark, a cooly-voiced joke to tease the other. But this was different--it was serious, and he's never quite seen Ichimatsu looking so defeated.
He stares down at him through the hollows of his mask, before reaching up to pull it off. He pushes himself inside while peeling his coat off, shoving off both items into Ichimatsu's hands as he tosses his gauntlets aside as well.]
Ain't much of a doctor, but I knew enough to help out men on the field. [He can't say he can wake Karamatsu up, but he can at least keep him breathing until paramedics arrived.]
[He takes the cloak and mask dumbly, silent but oddly appreciative of being given a task, even if that task is "coathanger". He actually shifts the coat around so it drapes, folded, over his shoulders, and even then it nearly drags on the floor. He's cold, though, so even if Reaper didn't have any body heat to warm it with the extra layer can't hurt. The mask he just sort of hugs to himself in an oddly familiar way, stooping to pick up his gauntlets and set them on a table in the entryway.]
[He doesn't say anything, but points and then walks to the living room, pausing just before the door both to let Reaper go first and because he's still shaken all to hell at the fact that his brother is in a damn coma. This shouldn't be freaking him out as badly as it is, and he wants to figure out how to settle, but he's reminded of Eluvio, and he's reminded that death is permanent, here, and that this isn't just a gag skit that they'll wake up from when the punchline is through.]
[He'd have to be reminded of that feeling of fearing death, he can't say he can legitimately even fake it anymore. However, seeing the look on the usually dour, sour, or snide guy's face was enough to at least concern him.
If he lost his brothers...
No, there's little point in imagining a scenario like that. He goes to where he's pointed, and sure enough, there lies the usually loud and showoffish brother, now being the quietest he's ever seen him.
He's lying in the position he'd asked Ichimatsu to put him in, and the first thing he does is put a hand over his mouth. He can feel the warm tickle of breath--so at least he's breathing. He goes about poking at him in various ways, checking his vitals and for signs of injury; silent as the grave during the entire process.
When he's done, he heaves out a quiet sigh.]
I'll be calling that ambulance. Figure you'll want to go with him.
[He lingers in the doorway for a while, shuffling forward and setting the mask down on the table as he goes. He's sort of tangled up in your coat now, Reaper, hope you aren't wanting that back anywhere near immediately. He's stiff as he stands, but the sigh to Reaper's stature mellows him out just enough that some of the tension goes out of his own shoulders.]
...how bad is it that I don't want to? Hospitals fucking terrify me.
[He'll consider it a worthy sacrifice when help arrives, but for now I guess he's dealing with a cat caught up in his coat. He takes a moment to look at the other as he stands there, defeated looking.]
...No.
[He turns his head, looking offside.]
Hospitals are fucking horrible places.
You wanted to stay here? I'd consider that pretty fucking normal.
[He stares down at Ichimatsu who's hiding in the shadowy rescesses of his coat. He makes a face...
And then places a heavy hand down on his head. His palm scrubbing against the top of his hooded noggin.]
If you're useless, what the hell're you calling me? There ain't shit I can do about this fuckery either. He's still breathin', so whatever's causing this ain't anything related to my shit.
I'm just as useless as you are. Don't shove yourself into a gutter just 'cause you ain't qualified for shit like this. Won't hear that quitter talk. He's your family, right? Ain't no-one's way you can get into when it concerns you.
Still less useless than me, [He reaches up and covers Reaper's hand with both of his, frowning out from under two hoods. He's still wearing his little cloth medical mask, for what little good it won't do, so the frown is hidden, but somehow still obvious.]
At least you knew about that recovery position thing.
[He lets his hand idle against the top of Ichimatsu's head as the others' fingers stay planted there. His other hand is idly toying with his communicator, calling for help as they stand there. Wonder of technology, he could just send out a written message about the emergency without having to speak to any annoying operators.]
...Hah.
Tell you a secret, Brat?
That's basic first aid.
You learn that shit before they'll even let you sniff around a police station, let alone let you join the army.
[There's a minute where he's staring at the screen, waiting for a confirmation notice. When the message turns red for confirmed, he puts the thing away to look down at the miserable guy.]
Don't blame you. Cops suck, they're not people who generally get things done.
Especially given that you're from Japan. Bet you didn't know the Yakuza did more to help people than the police did during a bunch of different crises.
Didn't know a lot of things, probably. Knew where best to find cats, knew what kind of foods they liked best. ...knew a lot of weird shit, could probably still draw a map of the city's alleyways from memory.
[He almost regrets it-- what a stupid thing to say, right now, what a stupid thing to say at all? Good job, Ichimatsu, you're still a moron. He grunts, softly, staring down at his feet, and rolls his shoulders. At least his comment doesn't seem put-off.]
...you aren't that scary, Karamatsu's just a weenie.
[He considers for a moment. Just a moment. Being told he's not scary lights up a very recognisable feeling of irritation out of the bottom of his gut. But he'd be a liar to say that he hasn't invited that kind of opinion from the set of sextuplets--or at least the ones he's met already.]
...
He isn't scared of me either, you know.
When we first met, certainly. But not after what I did to him.
Saved his ass on Ira, didn't you? [He grins, the expression sort of... muddled, because he's tired, but in a way that almost makes it look fonder. Stop that, you goopy moron.]
[He moves around Reaper, coming to stand in front of the couch and frowning for a long time at his brother, reaching out and fussing with his hair absently.]
...he does like to let nothing stop him when he's being embarrassing.
[he watches this in an odd silence, being able to recognise some sense of ... familial love here by logic, but ... honestly, he couldn't understand it. He frowns a little, but that expression could just be credited back to the 'if he hasn't already' comment.
Ugh.]
I wouldn't put it past him. Even if I would very much prefer not to be serenaded at.
[A pause.]
It's likely that sort of attitude that makes him different from the rest of you.
[He will adopt you into his family as Edgy Dad if he doesn't decide he wants to kiss you instead, Gabriel, you are going to be a part of this family whether you want to or not.]
[He winds up sinking to sit on the edge of the couch without really planning to, petting Karamatsu's hair almost mechanically.]
...telling him you don't want to be serenaded is honestly just gonna fuel him. And, what, the singing? He's always been embarrassing, and completely unashamed about it. Colored contacts, shirts with his face on them, glittery pants... [Shakes his head.] He's awful. [Which is exactly why you lost every shit and called your Edgy Dead Friend over to help you figure out how to handle him being in a coma, and are sitting on the couch petting him, right? Of course.]
[Being adopted into a family sounds weird and not entirely advisable, the worst way to introduce your family, 'these are my brothers and the dead guy we found and kept'.]
He looks to me, to be a man with a textbook case of needing to be noticed. Wouldn't go so far as to call it megalomania. He's a little too kind to others for that sort of thing.
[he's still watching quietly with those bright, glowing red eyes. Awful, yeah, right, and that's why you're sitting with him like a worried brother. Awful.
There's a sound outside, and some sort of vehicle is backing in. Looks like someone's here to pick the unconscious man up.]
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He doesn't have to do any more than that for the other to, hopefully, realise a certain ghost is at the door.]
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...hi, [The word is directed at Reaper's feet.]
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He stares down at him through the hollows of his mask, before reaching up to pull it off. He pushes himself inside while peeling his coat off, shoving off both items into Ichimatsu's hands as he tosses his gauntlets aside as well.]
Ain't much of a doctor, but I knew enough to help out men on the field. [He can't say he can wake Karamatsu up, but he can at least keep him breathing until paramedics arrived.]
Where is he.
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[He doesn't say anything, but points and then walks to the living room, pausing just before the door both to let Reaper go first and because he's still shaken all to hell at the fact that his brother is in a damn coma. This shouldn't be freaking him out as badly as it is, and he wants to figure out how to settle, but he's reminded of Eluvio, and he's reminded that death is permanent, here, and that this isn't just a gag skit that they'll wake up from when the punchline is through.]
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If he lost his brothers...
No, there's little point in imagining a scenario like that. He goes to where he's pointed, and sure enough, there lies the usually loud and showoffish brother, now being the quietest he's ever seen him.
He's lying in the position he'd asked Ichimatsu to put him in, and the first thing he does is put a hand over his mouth.
He can feel the warm tickle of breath--so at least he's breathing. He goes about poking at him in various ways, checking his vitals and for signs of injury; silent as the grave during the entire process.
When he's done, he heaves out a quiet sigh.]
I'll be calling that ambulance. Figure you'll want to go with him.
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...how bad is it that I don't want to? Hospitals fucking terrify me.
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...No.
[He turns his head, looking offside.]
Hospitals are fucking horrible places.
You wanted to stay here? I'd consider that pretty fucking normal.
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[He shifts and finds the hood of Reaper's coat and drags it up over his own hood, hiding further.]
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[He stares down at Ichimatsu who's hiding in the shadowy rescesses of his coat. He makes a face...
And then places a heavy hand down on his head. His palm scrubbing against the top of his hooded noggin.]
If you're useless, what the hell're you calling me? There ain't shit I can do about this fuckery either. He's still breathin', so whatever's causing this ain't anything related to my shit.
I'm just as useless as you are. Don't shove yourself into a gutter just 'cause you ain't qualified for shit like this. Won't hear that quitter talk. He's your family, right?
Ain't no-one's way you can get into when it concerns you.
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At least you knew about that recovery position thing.
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...Hah.
Tell you a secret, Brat?
That's basic first aid.
You learn that shit before they'll even let you sniff around a police station, let alone let you join the army.
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Never tried sniffing police stations or joining the army, so I guess I'm excused.
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Don't blame you. Cops suck, they're not people who generally get things done.
Especially given that you're from Japan. Bet you didn't know the Yakuza did more to help people than the police did during a bunch of different crises.
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Didn't know a lot of things, probably. Knew where best to find cats, knew what kind of foods they liked best. ...knew a lot of weird shit, could probably still draw a map of the city's alleyways from memory.
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[He reaches down to pull Ichimatsu's hood a little furthur down over his head.]
If you weren't able to speak and feed yourself, I'd start to think you were an alleycat in human skin, you know.
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Probably not too far off, given the weird ears and tail thing. But that's why I'm friends with death, probably.
[...he did it, he admitted you two are friends. Holy shit.]
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His head turns back around to stare at Karamatsu's still-sleeping form to try to shake the feeling off.]
Better to be friends with death than to fear it.
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...you aren't that scary, Karamatsu's just a weenie.
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Just a moment.
Being told he's not scary lights up a very recognisable feeling of irritation out of the bottom of his gut. But he'd be a liar to say that he hasn't invited that kind of opinion from the set of sextuplets--or at least the ones he's met already.]
...
He isn't scared of me either, you know.
When we first met, certainly. But not after what I did to him.
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It's hard to lie about shit like that when he apparently wants to write a damn song about it.
[He crosses his arms, gazing out the window to keep an eye out for when help arrived.]
Makes me think he'll wake up out of stubbornness to see that done alone.
this icon is a cat not karamatsu but you get the idea
[He moves around Reaper, coming to stand in front of the couch and frowning for a long time at his brother, reaching out and fussing with his hair absently.]
...he does like to let nothing stop him when he's being embarrassing.
i absolutely do
Ugh.]
I wouldn't put it past him. Even if I would very much prefer not to be serenaded at.
[A pause.]
It's likely that sort of attitude that makes him different from the rest of you.
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[He winds up sinking to sit on the edge of the couch without really planning to, petting Karamatsu's hair almost mechanically.]
...telling him you don't want to be serenaded is honestly just gonna fuel him. And, what, the singing? He's always been embarrassing, and completely unashamed about it. Colored contacts, shirts with his face on them, glittery pants... [Shakes his head.] He's awful. [Which is exactly why you lost every shit and called your Edgy Dead Friend over to help you figure out how to handle him being in a coma, and are sitting on the couch petting him, right? Of course.]
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He looks to me, to be a man with a textbook case of needing to be noticed. Wouldn't go so far as to call it megalomania. He's a little too kind to others for that sort of thing.
[he's still watching quietly with those bright, glowing red eyes. Awful, yeah, right, and that's why you're sitting with him like a worried brother. Awful.
There's a sound outside, and some sort of vehicle is backing in. Looks like someone's here to pick the unconscious man up.]
Actions speak louder than words do.
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