In No Rush

no words can describe the happiness the bleeds from his lanky frame.

you know i’m right.

         A heavy sigh. Before handing over the other a few explosives previously confiscated. He can’t say no to that face.

“But-” He started. “Its gon’ defeat t’whole purpose if I put clothes on!” It wasn’t to be as funny, he just wanted to do this thing as dangerously as it was humanly possible. “Nooo I’m not gonna wear any pants!” Rat huffed.

He dropped the pile of fireworks on the floor nearby the window- planning to fire them all from the inside- because he couldn’t care less.

Alright, not happening. With a grab around the waist he was yanked up, and the fireworks in the other arm. 

“ Nope. Not tonight Rat. ” He growled and set him down, going to go put the fireworks in a place Junkrat couldn’t get to hopefully, one of the armorys, and not theirs. Torbs or Symmetras. That way he couldn’t get in without waking them up, and having Junkrat get in trouble.

Jamison had frozen on place when Hog had walked on him, not because he didn’t expect to be caught, but because he was aware that what he was doing something real dangerous. Rat winced at first and then gave a weak sheepish smile- “No?” He was in his birthday suit with a ridiculously large amount of fireworks in his arms. 

He just simply puts his head in his hand, and lets out a long tired sigh.

“ Put some clothes on, and only a handful at a time. You’ll blow out your ear drums. Again. ” He gripes, before beginning to take off his gear. He’s tired, wants to take a nap and relax. But then again with Junkrat having a bunch of fireworks he knows that isn’t an option, so he goes to get some clothes on, sliding and dropping the vest down, going to the small closet they have.

      Some days it felt like he had to do everything himself, then again, that was the role of the Tank, to take the brunt, and to use brute force to crush the others. He grabbed a man that had been about to shoot that healer on skates. The man having tripped when a blast from Roadhogs partner stunned him.

The hook got caught in the mans throat, and it was not a pretty sight as he yanked him in and slammed him into the ground with a grunt. It was a blood bath out here, and all these small little kids running around didn’t sit right with him, he repeated the process with another approaching the Medic, this time it was their side, and he screamed as he was reeled in, in a swift motion, he had the mans throat, and glanced at him before mercilessly tossed him off a cliff.

Danger out of the way, he walked over to him, and offered a hand to the fallen medic.

“ Listen for him. ”  He tried to explain, hearing Junkrats giggling and glancing over before tugging him out of the way of a oncoming blast.

       He’s exhausted, but of course he doesn’t say anything, just silently goes to work cleaning his weapon after he gets dressed.... well mostly dressed. He has pants on. Equipment such as his grill and vest aren’t allowed out of the workshop unless authorized (such in the case of emergency) because they could be a hazard.

Eh whatever, he’s fine with just pants and a huge ass shirt he found. It’s nice and comfortable, serves for pjs well. He bends down to rummage, looking through the fridge, before grabbing some eggs, bread, and pauses glancing about. Nothing but bacon and ham that goes with eggs in the fridge right now. He snorts. Dammit. He’ll have to improvise. 

Leaving the two objects in the fridge, he stands up, and begins to work on making some over easy eggs and toast mix. Junkrat likes calling them chop-chop eggs.

Eh, might as well. He does chop them up.

It’s IC not Roadhog....