Junkrat was a talkative individual by nature. Who knew if prior to his copious exposure to radiation if he was more reserved, less prone to myriads of syllables cascading from thin lipsânot like that line of thought helped nor soothed Roadhogâs annoyance with him. Junkrat repeatedly stroked that sharp, prickly sense of anger like an unheeding child unto a rabid dog, either oblivious or unconcerned about the prospect of having teeth hook around his throat.
The summer heat was sure to spur him faster towards Junkratâs jugular.
Roadhog grunted loudly and through clenched teeth. A large hand dragged down the side of his face, pulling at skin marred and melted and made stiff by injury. Heâd found himself fond of his leatherbound mask, made to crudely resemble that of a pig, but it was far too hot to consider having leather even remotely near his body.
â Shut up. â
He stood up. It felt like his skin peeled off the chair heâd sought respite against.
â For once in your life. â
A beat of a pause floated betwixt them, as thick as the humid air threatening to choke them out. His gaze flickered about. It landed on the old hammer that wasnât too far from Junkratâs heels. He shambled over and plucked it ( though, perhaps snatch was a better apt word here, as he grumbled something indistinct but undoubtedly agitated ) from the dusty, grime-laden flooring and beelined back towards the crudely pieced piece of furniture. The cushions had long since lost their oomph, pitiful and flat, and the legs and arms had been patched with uneven, unmatching metal. A thin, itchy blanket was draped over the seat itself, concealing much of the handiwork.
With his back to the other, he started to fiddle. A screwdriver wouldâve made this feat tenfold faster, but he had to make do.
Roadhog cast his hand behind him. A rattle, a clatter. One screw rolled towards the other.
having long since grown accustomed to his bodyguard's mute disposition, junkrat was more than happy to continue talking for the both of them, knowing that the other man wouldn't always care to answer him beyond maybe a word or twoâif he was lucky. sometimes, he even went so far as to imagine what it was like to have an actual conversation, not just a one-sided string of sentences with a few 'shut up's and 'you talk too much' thrown in at the end, but he wouldn't have been disheartened if silence was all that greeted him.
suffice it to say that when junkrat is met with a gruff yet familiar voice, now free from the muffling leather of the pig-shaped mask, he finds himself pleasantly surprised.
â you asked the question, mate. m'just answerin' it. â
unable to help himself, junkrat looks over his shoulder with a wry smile, sparing a glance across the room just in time to catch sight of roadhog getting up from the seat he'd been occupying for most of the day. it's good to know that even with the suffocating weight of this heat, he can still get a rise out of his partner in crime. quite literally, this time.
yet when the pause between them lingers and nothing more is said, junkrat begrudgingly returns to his scrounging. he figures that the old hog would eventually walk off and entertain himself elsewhere. after all, it wasn't uncommon for him to be left to his own devices after getting a little too annoying, and he doubted it would be the last.
fortunately, the sound of metal hitting wood reaches his ears before he can start to sulk, shifting his attention downwards where he spots the screw rolling against the dingy floorboards, and all of his previous frustrations melt into a fit of giggles.
â hog, you beautiful bastard! â
a crooked grin pulls at the corners of his mouth as he reaches out to snatch the metal object before running off into the other roomâonly for him to come back a few seconds later, dragging a chair behind him with barely contained excitement. junkrat then climbs upon its surface after setting it beneath the ceiling fan and pins the loose bracket back into place with one hand while the other fastens the screw.
now all he has to do is wait until the fan whirrs back to life, so he hops off the chair, kicks it to the side and takes its place on the floor to reap the benefits of his hard work with a long, drawn-out sigh. it's not a perfect fix, nor is it permanent, but beggars can't be choosers, and junkrat feels accomplished enough to let it be for now.
â mâuch better. â
