mecha loser.

contrary  to  popular  fucking  belief,  zahir  isn't  stupid.  the  weeks  before  he  burned  down  that  mall  had  been  a  haze  but  he  remembers,  in  the  same  painfully  vague  way  that  he  remembers  most  of  that  day  before  mecha  man  came  barrelling  in,  that  his  timer  had  still  been  steadily  ticking  down  before  he  went  to  the  mall.  he  remembers,  beyond  the  searing  pain  of  losing  his  fingers,  the  blood  -  smeared  00:00:00  that  had  stared  back  at  him  accusingly  when  he  was  sitting  outside  the  remains  of  the  burning  building  with  the  heavy  power  dampening  cuffs  on  his  wrists  and  the  cacophony  of  police  sirens  ringing  painfully  in  his  ears.  and  fuck,  sure.  maybe  the  timer  stopped  when  that  random  bitch  put  the  cuffs  on  him  after  mecha  man  dragged  him  out  of  the  mall  and  his  actual  soulmate  is  some  fucking  guy  he'd  written  off  as  a  footnote  and  he's  fucking  put  all  the  clues  together  wrong,  but  the  actual  real  actual  hero  that  he  actually  sort  of  fucking  met  still  sounds  a  lot  more  likely   —   not  that  it  fucking  matters  either  way,  when  the  only  time  he's  gotten  a  glimpse  of  mecha  man  since  that  night  has  been  on  the  news.

         crypto  night,  of  all  the  fucking  possibilities  in  torrance,  was  the  last  place  he  thought  he'd  see  @mech4man  again.

so  maybe  he's  a  little  fucking  impatient,  so  fucking  what.  he  thinks  he's  got  the  right  to  be  after  all  that  fucking  time  in  stuck  in  prison,  after  fucking  months  thinking  his  idiot  soulmate  had  gotten  himself  blown  up  before  zahir  had  found  a  way  to  reach  him  again,  he  thinks  he's  earned  some  fucking  impatience.  blazer  has  barely  left  the  room  before  he's  abandoning  his  spot  at  the  end  of  the  bar  beside  punch  up  and  coupé  without  a  word  of  explanation,  darting  between  the  bar's  patrons  with  confident  steps  and  settling  onto  the  barstool  next  to  the  bitch  he  might  be  cosmically  fucking  bound  to  and  waits   (  as  patiently  as  he  can  manage  )   for  mecha  man  to  look  at  him.

that ticking timer stopped that day - 00:00:00 - it wasn't some random police officer he'd spoken to, some random civilian he'd helped get to safety. either one of those things would've been the better outcome, or maybe he was just telling himself that. there's no way his soulmate could be someone like him, right? robert hadn't even been certain of his sexuality for quite some time, but he guessed now that itch in his brain had been handled. scratched. he hadn't seen the villain since then, despite considering approaching him in his cell on numerous occasions. pity wouldn't have been involved, just the desire to talk about... this.

last place he'd thought he'd meet up with flambae again was at crypto night... but maybe it was for the best. all bets off, all honesty given, and they could talk about whatever this meant for them. personally, and jointly. voice meets his ears, and robert sets down the drink he'd been sipping, and he's still slightly tipsy from the half a beer he'd drank, but not so much so that he could excuse his drunkenness for anything he says tonight. shifting his attention, he turns, meets the other's eyes with a hesitancy in his own. what was that in his chest? something lurched, almost ached, and he suddenly felt nauseous.

being called a bitch wasn't the direction he would've taken the conversation right off the bat, but robert wasn't one to judge. or well, he was, but the slur seemed to come out of his mouth with ease, so he just accepted that flambae might've called everyone a bitch. anyway, mecha man's eyes focus on flambae's, scanning them for any sign of... well, anything - only met with a slight eagerness to speak, a confusion that said he understood but didn't know what to do about it, and that was something they could both agree on.