DON'T LOOK BACK. THERE'S NOTHING LEFT.

@ratchet-spanner

IF YER GONNA BE A ONE TRICK PONY . . . THAT ONE TRICK BETTER BE DAMN GOOD.

30 posts

---SPANNERS TOOL SHOP---

ya need sumthin' new and shiny? ya car broke down? ya gun got destroyed in a dance-off with a drac? got caught-up in an explosion and need a shiny new prosthetic? well, lucky you. you've come t' the right place.

don't ask me for pricing. check the poster that's hangin' over the counter like a normal person.

y'wanna haggle prices? fine. but you'll be goin' home with an extra bullet hole or two in yer shirt. i won't waste yer time, so you shouldn't waste mine either.

if yer travellin' this far to come to my shop, y'might as well bring me a six-pack of beer while yer at it.

shop opens bright and early at five and closes at nine. if ya come in the middle of the night lookin' for someplace to stay i will dust you. get off my front porch.

---SPANNERS TOOL SHOP---

#kjrp #killjoy rp #danger days rp

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ratchet-spanner

No haggling you say…

nah. y'got a problem?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(It takes two goes to finish this one off. Bullet leans more heavily against the counter, his body finally starting to argue with the amount of alcohol he's consumed)

I know that! When ya ge' attached and ya lose 'em it hurts. I know that.

(He runs his hands through his hair—ignoring the strands that refuse to stay back)

Y' think I think th' world's all . . . Rainbows 'n shit? Y' dunno what 've been through. This next 'ne 'll be drink seven! Ge' ready t' pay up.

ratchet-spanner

(he grins, knowing that this competition is coming to an end soon. he, once again, fills their glasses. ratchet easily downs his own glass down)

what's wrong, kid? startin' t' feel it now? . . . go on. drink up. perhaps it'll help dull the pain for when ya find out ya weren't quick enough t' save yer brother . . .

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He scowls, downing his drink in two goes again. This time he truly looks pissed)

Shut up! 'F ya know somethin' abou' 'im 'nd yer hidin' it I'll dus' you so fas' you won' even see I—

(They pause suddenly, both hands coming up to cover their mouth. He looks up at Ratchet, almost pleadingly, for a bucket before he has to have the other cleaning the floor)

ratchet-spanner

(he coughs out a low laugh at the others expression)

eh? somethin' wrong, kid?

(he offers another lopsided grin before reaching below the counter, and chucking an old tin bucket that smells like fuel and grease up on the counter. he empties the contents of it - which is mostly just nuts, bolts, and screws - before handing it over to the other)

like i said. lightweight.

(he grabs the bottle of whiskey now, downing the rest. he's not going to let some perfectly good alcohol go to waste)

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He empties his stomach, a low groan escaping him as he leans his side against the counter)

Nnno I c'n take 'ne more, make i' t' eigh'. 'M no' a ligh—

(They drop their head to the bucket again. After a moment he sets the bucket aside and practically lays his upper body on the counter, his face a bit flushed)

'Ne more.

ratchet-spanner

(he finishes off the bottle while the other throws up perfectly good whiskey. he sighs, tilting his head as he stares down at the other. he reaches down and firmly pats them on the head as he speaks. )

that was a good try, kiddo, i have to admit. wasn't good enough, though. sounds like yer gonna have to start listenin' to me now, eh? didn't think you'd go for as long as ya did . . . 's like lookin' into a mirror. yer not as strong as me though . . . ya still have some growing to do, huh?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sluggishly tries to push Spanner's hand away, almost falling over in the process)

Sto' treatin' m' like a kid. Ya gonna kill m' now? 'Cause y' though' I w's a spy? Go 'head.

(They step back, immediately falling straight on their ass. A hand goes to their holster but the sluggishness mixed with the clumsiness makes it nearly impossible for him to get it open)

ratchet-spanner

i'll quit treatin' you like a kid when ya stop actin' like one, how 'bout that?

(he frowns, watching the other stumble to the ground. he stays unmoving, not even bothering to go help him)

nah. yer too dumb to be a spy.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sighs, leaning forward with his face in his hands)

Ugghh . . . Jus'.. nee' s'me water. An' s'me time t' walk 'ome.

(They try to stand—the attempt met with him now being face down on the floor; unmoving. The only sign he hasn't actually passed out yet is a groan)

ratchet-spanner

now ya want water? . . . yer askin' too much from me now. what makes ya think that i'd help ya?

(he sighs, walking off to the back to get them some water. after a moment, he comes back. standing in front of bullet. the stares down at them for a moment, before hoisting him up with one hand, handing over the bottled water)

listen, kid, as much as i'd like to keep this party goin', i have work to do. where'd'ya live? let me take ya home.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He groans again as he's stood up. They take a small, cautious sip of water, then clumsily screw the lid back on)

Why woul' I tell ya tha'? I..

(Their voice trails off, their eyes closing)

Live a'.. 'bandoned place 'n zone.. two. Gotta b' close t'...

ratchet-spanner

(he sighs, pausing for a moment)

is that yer place or yer brothers? i think i'd be more comfortable with droppin' ya off at someplace where there'd be someone to help look after ya . . . i'm not confident in leavin' ya on yer own. 'm not that terrible of a person.

bullet-pop-kjrp

Mine.

(He sighs, trying to stand on his own. With all the moving the sound of a mostly empty pill bottle comes from somewhere)

Don' thin'.. he'd be a' 'is place righ' now. 'Ve go' Milo?

ratchet-spanner

(he frowns, trying to decipher what the other is saying to him)

. . . listen, kid. i dunno what the hell yer goin' on about, but there's no way i'm leavin' ya somewhere on yer own.

(without further notice, he lifts bullet up. carrying him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. he walks out of the store, turning to lock the door. he mumbles to himself)

. . . ya owe me, kid.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He groans, this time in vague annoyance. Though, once he's essentially weightless, he relaxes—only barely managing to not drop his cane and water bottle)

'll buy y' m're wh'skey. Slums kin'.

ratchet-spanner

(he ignores bullets remarks . . . what ever they may be. he makes his way over to his ute, opening the passenger door and carelessly throwing bullet in. he then goes around and gets into the drivers seat. he turns to the drunken mess next to him as he starts up the car)

jus' tell me where yer brother lives, kid. let me drop you off there. y'know zone two is a fair way out from here, and i'm not sober enough t' safely drive that far.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He grunts when he hits his side against the console)

Ow.. h' lives a' uh... four. Thin' there's a.. radio tower?

ratchet-spanner

ya think, huh? . . . alright, then.

(he drives off - the tower he assumes bullet is talking about only being about ten minutes away)

if ya needa throw up again, do it out the window. if ya get my car dirty, i'll leave ya out here in the middle of nowhere.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He curls up in the seat—head resting on the console. Their voice lowers again, the slurring making some of their words almost incomprehensible)

Alrigh', I won'. Jus'.. gonna nap. Don' kill me.

(Bullet closes their eyes, an arm partially covering their face)

ratchet-spanner

(he frowns, taking a moment to try and work out what the other said. he huffs out a laugh)

kill ya? why, that'd be just too easy, eh? besides, i feel like you've proven yerself tonight . . . yer . . . dedicated. i feel like we're pretty similar, you and i.

(he trails off, falling silent once more. the only sound that breaks the silence being the low rumbling of the car travelling across the road)

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He hums, but otherwise doesn't make a sound. The motion of the car does make him feel especially ill, but he moves his arm to cover his mouth instead)

Eugh..

ratchet-spanner

(he spares a half-glance at the other)

like i said, if yer gonna do it, do it out the window.

(the radio tower comes into view, he speaks up once more)

alright, are you conscious enough t' point me in the right direction from here?

bullet-pop-kjrp

Mhm.

(He points in what he's pretty sure is the right direction, although he hardly looks up enough to see over the dashboard)

Tha' way. 'M con.. conscious.

ratchet-spanner

(he takes a breath, continuing to drive in the direction that the other points in)

jus' . . . drink some of yer water. we're almost there. let's hope that yer brother gets back soon . . . i don't wanna be responsible for some kid that i barely know.

bullet-pop-kjrp

No' a kid.

(He decides against being a pain and instead just drinks some more water—trying to sober up a little so that when Xenon comes back he'll hopefully be at least somewhat coherent)

. . . 'E better be alrigh'.

ratchet-spanner

not a kid, eh?

(he begins to slow upon coming across a dimly lit building, he frowns)

this the place?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He looks up briefly, then starts to climb out of the car, the cane instinctively going to his left side)

Yeah tha's i'. … 'll wai' here 'til 'e comes back.

ratchet-spanner

(he frowns as he watches the other get out of the car, winding down a window to yell)

yer still holdin' it wrong, kid.

(he doesn't leave just yet, hesitant to leave them on their own. he mentally weighs his options as he keeps an eye on bullet)

ratchet-spanner

No haggling you say…

nah. y'got a problem?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(It takes two goes to finish this one off. Bullet leans more heavily against the counter, his body finally starting to argue with the amount of alcohol he's consumed)

I know that! When ya ge' attached and ya lose 'em it hurts. I know that.

(He runs his hands through his hair—ignoring the strands that refuse to stay back)

Y' think I think th' world's all . . . Rainbows 'n shit? Y' dunno what 've been through. This next 'ne 'll be drink seven! Ge' ready t' pay up.

ratchet-spanner

(he grins, knowing that this competition is coming to an end soon. he, once again, fills their glasses. ratchet easily downs his own glass down)

what's wrong, kid? startin' t' feel it now? . . . go on. drink up. perhaps it'll help dull the pain for when ya find out ya weren't quick enough t' save yer brother . . .

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He scowls, downing his drink in two goes again. This time he truly looks pissed)

Shut up! 'F ya know somethin' abou' 'im 'nd yer hidin' it I'll dus' you so fas' you won' even see I—

(They pause suddenly, both hands coming up to cover their mouth. He looks up at Ratchet, almost pleadingly, for a bucket before he has to have the other cleaning the floor)

ratchet-spanner

(he coughs out a low laugh at the others expression)

eh? somethin' wrong, kid?

(he offers another lopsided grin before reaching below the counter, and chucking an old tin bucket that smells like fuel and grease up on the counter. he empties the contents of it - which is mostly just nuts, bolts, and screws - before handing it over to the other)

like i said. lightweight.

(he grabs the bottle of whiskey now, downing the rest. he's not going to let some perfectly good alcohol go to waste)

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He empties his stomach, a low groan escaping him as he leans his side against the counter)

Nnno I c'n take 'ne more, make i' t' eigh'. 'M no' a ligh—

(They drop their head to the bucket again. After a moment he sets the bucket aside and practically lays his upper body on the counter, his face a bit flushed)

'Ne more.

ratchet-spanner

(he finishes off the bottle while the other throws up perfectly good whiskey. he sighs, tilting his head as he stares down at the other. he reaches down and firmly pats them on the head as he speaks. )

that was a good try, kiddo, i have to admit. wasn't good enough, though. sounds like yer gonna have to start listenin' to me now, eh? didn't think you'd go for as long as ya did . . . 's like lookin' into a mirror. yer not as strong as me though . . . ya still have some growing to do, huh?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sluggishly tries to push Spanner's hand away, almost falling over in the process)

Sto' treatin' m' like a kid. Ya gonna kill m' now? 'Cause y' though' I w's a spy? Go 'head.

(They step back, immediately falling straight on their ass. A hand goes to their holster but the sluggishness mixed with the clumsiness makes it nearly impossible for him to get it open)

ratchet-spanner

i'll quit treatin' you like a kid when ya stop actin' like one, how 'bout that?

(he frowns, watching the other stumble to the ground. he stays unmoving, not even bothering to go help him)

nah. yer too dumb to be a spy.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sighs, leaning forward with his face in his hands)

Ugghh . . . Jus'.. nee' s'me water. An' s'me time t' walk 'ome.

(They try to stand—the attempt met with him now being face down on the floor; unmoving. The only sign he hasn't actually passed out yet is a groan)

ratchet-spanner

now ya want water? . . . yer askin' too much from me now. what makes ya think that i'd help ya?

(he sighs, walking off to the back to get them some water. after a moment, he comes back. standing in front of bullet. the stares down at them for a moment, before hoisting him up with one hand, handing over the bottled water)

listen, kid, as much as i'd like to keep this party goin', i have work to do. where'd'ya live? let me take ya home.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He groans again as he's stood up. They take a small, cautious sip of water, then clumsily screw the lid back on)

Why woul' I tell ya tha'? I..

(Their voice trails off, their eyes closing)

Live a'.. 'bandoned place 'n zone.. two. Gotta b' close t'...

ratchet-spanner

(he sighs, pausing for a moment)

is that yer place or yer brothers? i think i'd be more comfortable with droppin' ya off at someplace where there'd be someone to help look after ya . . . i'm not confident in leavin' ya on yer own. 'm not that terrible of a person.

bullet-pop-kjrp

Mine.

(He sighs, trying to stand on his own. With all the moving the sound of a mostly empty pill bottle comes from somewhere)

Don' thin'.. he'd be a' 'is place righ' now. 'Ve go' Milo?

ratchet-spanner

(he frowns, trying to decipher what the other is saying to him)

. . . listen, kid. i dunno what the hell yer goin' on about, but there's no way i'm leavin' ya somewhere on yer own.

(without further notice, he lifts bullet up. carrying him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. he walks out of the store, turning to lock the door. he mumbles to himself)

. . . ya owe me, kid.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He groans, this time in vague annoyance. Though, once he's essentially weightless, he relaxes—only barely managing to not drop his cane and water bottle)

'll buy y' m're wh'skey. Slums kin'.

ratchet-spanner

(he ignores bullets remarks . . . what ever they may be. he makes his way over to his ute, opening the passenger door and carelessly throwing bullet in. he then goes around and gets into the drivers seat. he turns to the drunken mess next to him as he starts up the car)

jus' tell me where yer brother lives, kid. let me drop you off there. y'know zone two is a fair way out from here, and i'm not sober enough t' safely drive that far.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He grunts when he hits his side against the console)

Ow.. h' lives a' uh... four. Thin' there's a.. radio tower?

ratchet-spanner

ya think, huh? . . . alright, then.

(he drives off - the tower he assumes bullet is talking about only being about ten minutes away)

if ya needa throw up again, do it out the window. if ya get my car dirty, i'll leave ya out here in the middle of nowhere.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He curls up in the seat—head resting on the console. Their voice lowers again, the slurring making some of their words almost incomprehensible)

Alrigh', I won'. Jus'.. gonna nap. Don' kill me.

(Bullet closes their eyes, an arm partially covering their face)

ratchet-spanner

(he frowns, taking a moment to try and work out what the other said. he huffs out a laugh)

kill ya? why, that'd be just too easy, eh? besides, i feel like you've proven yerself tonight . . . yer . . . dedicated. i feel like we're pretty similar, you and i.

(he trails off, falling silent once more. the only sound that breaks the silence being the low rumbling of the car travelling across the road)

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He hums, but otherwise doesn't make a sound. The motion of the car does make him feel especially ill, but he moves his arm to cover his mouth instead)

Eugh..

ratchet-spanner

(he spares a half-glance at the other)

like i said, if yer gonna do it, do it out the window.

(the radio tower comes into view, he speaks up once more)

alright, are you conscious enough t' point me in the right direction from here?

bullet-pop-kjrp

Mhm.

(He points in what he's pretty sure is the right direction, although he hardly looks up enough to see over the dashboard)

Tha' way. 'M con.. conscious.

ratchet-spanner

(he takes a breath, continuing to drive in the direction that the other points in)

jus' . . . drink some of yer water. we're almost there. let's hope that yer brother gets back soon . . . i don't wanna be responsible for some kid that i barely know.

bullet-pop-kjrp

No' a kid.

(He decides against being a pain and instead just drinks some more water—trying to sober up a little so that when Xenon comes back he'll hopefully be at least somewhat coherent)

. . . 'E better be alrigh'.

ratchet-spanner

not a kid, eh?

(he begins to slow upon coming across a dimly lit building, he frowns)

this the place?

ratchet-spanner

No haggling you say…

nah. y'got a problem?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(It takes two goes to finish this one off. Bullet leans more heavily against the counter, his body finally starting to argue with the amount of alcohol he's consumed)

I know that! When ya ge' attached and ya lose 'em it hurts. I know that.

(He runs his hands through his hair—ignoring the strands that refuse to stay back)

Y' think I think th' world's all . . . Rainbows 'n shit? Y' dunno what 've been through. This next 'ne 'll be drink seven! Ge' ready t' pay up.

ratchet-spanner

(he grins, knowing that this competition is coming to an end soon. he, once again, fills their glasses. ratchet easily downs his own glass down)

what's wrong, kid? startin' t' feel it now? . . . go on. drink up. perhaps it'll help dull the pain for when ya find out ya weren't quick enough t' save yer brother . . .

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He scowls, downing his drink in two goes again. This time he truly looks pissed)

Shut up! 'F ya know somethin' abou' 'im 'nd yer hidin' it I'll dus' you so fas' you won' even see I—

(They pause suddenly, both hands coming up to cover their mouth. He looks up at Ratchet, almost pleadingly, for a bucket before he has to have the other cleaning the floor)

ratchet-spanner

(he coughs out a low laugh at the others expression)

eh? somethin' wrong, kid?

(he offers another lopsided grin before reaching below the counter, and chucking an old tin bucket that smells like fuel and grease up on the counter. he empties the contents of it - which is mostly just nuts, bolts, and screws - before handing it over to the other)

like i said. lightweight.

(he grabs the bottle of whiskey now, downing the rest. he's not going to let some perfectly good alcohol go to waste)

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He empties his stomach, a low groan escaping him as he leans his side against the counter)

Nnno I c'n take 'ne more, make i' t' eigh'. 'M no' a ligh—

(They drop their head to the bucket again. After a moment he sets the bucket aside and practically lays his upper body on the counter, his face a bit flushed)

'Ne more.

ratchet-spanner

(he finishes off the bottle while the other throws up perfectly good whiskey. he sighs, tilting his head as he stares down at the other. he reaches down and firmly pats them on the head as he speaks. )

that was a good try, kiddo, i have to admit. wasn't good enough, though. sounds like yer gonna have to start listenin' to me now, eh? didn't think you'd go for as long as ya did . . . 's like lookin' into a mirror. yer not as strong as me though . . . ya still have some growing to do, huh?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sluggishly tries to push Spanner's hand away, almost falling over in the process)

Sto' treatin' m' like a kid. Ya gonna kill m' now? 'Cause y' though' I w's a spy? Go 'head.

(They step back, immediately falling straight on their ass. A hand goes to their holster but the sluggishness mixed with the clumsiness makes it nearly impossible for him to get it open)

ratchet-spanner

i'll quit treatin' you like a kid when ya stop actin' like one, how 'bout that?

(he frowns, watching the other stumble to the ground. he stays unmoving, not even bothering to go help him)

nah. yer too dumb to be a spy.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sighs, leaning forward with his face in his hands)

Ugghh . . . Jus'.. nee' s'me water. An' s'me time t' walk 'ome.

(They try to stand—the attempt met with him now being face down on the floor; unmoving. The only sign he hasn't actually passed out yet is a groan)

ratchet-spanner

now ya want water? . . . yer askin' too much from me now. what makes ya think that i'd help ya?

(he sighs, walking off to the back to get them some water. after a moment, he comes back. standing in front of bullet. the stares down at them for a moment, before hoisting him up with one hand, handing over the bottled water)

listen, kid, as much as i'd like to keep this party goin', i have work to do. where'd'ya live? let me take ya home.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He groans again as he's stood up. They take a small, cautious sip of water, then clumsily screw the lid back on)

Why woul' I tell ya tha'? I..

(Their voice trails off, their eyes closing)

Live a'.. 'bandoned place 'n zone.. two. Gotta b' close t'...

ratchet-spanner

(he sighs, pausing for a moment)

is that yer place or yer brothers? i think i'd be more comfortable with droppin' ya off at someplace where there'd be someone to help look after ya . . . i'm not confident in leavin' ya on yer own. 'm not that terrible of a person.

bullet-pop-kjrp

Mine.

(He sighs, trying to stand on his own. With all the moving the sound of a mostly empty pill bottle comes from somewhere)

Don' thin'.. he'd be a' 'is place righ' now. 'Ve go' Milo?

ratchet-spanner

(he frowns, trying to decipher what the other is saying to him)

. . . listen, kid. i dunno what the hell yer goin' on about, but there's no way i'm leavin' ya somewhere on yer own.

(without further notice, he lifts bullet up. carrying him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. he walks out of the store, turning to lock the door. he mumbles to himself)

. . . ya owe me, kid.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He groans, this time in vague annoyance. Though, once he's essentially weightless, he relaxes—only barely managing to not drop his cane and water bottle)

'll buy y' m're wh'skey. Slums kin'.

ratchet-spanner

(he ignores bullets remarks . . . what ever they may be. he makes his way over to his ute, opening the passenger door and carelessly throwing bullet in. he then goes around and gets into the drivers seat. he turns to the drunken mess next to him as he starts up the car)

jus' tell me where yer brother lives, kid. let me drop you off there. y'know zone two is a fair way out from here, and i'm not sober enough t' safely drive that far.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He grunts when he hits his side against the console)

Ow.. h' lives a' uh... four. Thin' there's a.. radio tower?

ratchet-spanner

ya think, huh? . . . alright, then.

(he drives off - the tower he assumes bullet is talking about only being about ten minutes away)

if ya needa throw up again, do it out the window. if ya get my car dirty, i'll leave ya out here in the middle of nowhere.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He curls up in the seat—head resting on the console. Their voice lowers again, the slurring making some of their words almost incomprehensible)

Alrigh', I won'. Jus'.. gonna nap. Don' kill me.

(Bullet closes their eyes, an arm partially covering their face)

ratchet-spanner

(he frowns, taking a moment to try and work out what the other said. he huffs out a laugh)

kill ya? why, that'd be just too easy, eh? besides, i feel like you've proven yerself tonight . . . yer . . . dedicated. i feel like we're pretty similar, you and i.

(he trails off, falling silent once more. the only sound that breaks the silence being the low rumbling of the car travelling across the road)

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He hums, but otherwise doesn't make a sound. The motion of the car does make him feel especially ill, but he moves his arm to cover his mouth instead)

Eugh..

ratchet-spanner

(he spares a half-glance at the other)

like i said, if yer gonna do it, do it out the window.

(the radio tower comes into view, he speaks up once more)

alright, are you conscious enough t' point me in the right direction from here?

bullet-pop-kjrp

Mhm.

(He points in what he's pretty sure is the right direction, although he hardly looks up enough to see over the dashboard)

Tha' way. 'M con.. conscious.

ratchet-spanner

(he takes a breath, continuing to drive in the direction that the other points in)

jus' . . . drink some of yer water. we're almost there. let's hope that yer brother gets back soon . . . i don't wanna be responsible for some kid that i barely know.

ratchet-spanner

No haggling you say…

nah. y'got a problem?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(It takes two goes to finish this one off. Bullet leans more heavily against the counter, his body finally starting to argue with the amount of alcohol he's consumed)

I know that! When ya ge' attached and ya lose 'em it hurts. I know that.

(He runs his hands through his hair—ignoring the strands that refuse to stay back)

Y' think I think th' world's all . . . Rainbows 'n shit? Y' dunno what 've been through. This next 'ne 'll be drink seven! Ge' ready t' pay up.

ratchet-spanner

(he grins, knowing that this competition is coming to an end soon. he, once again, fills their glasses. ratchet easily downs his own glass down)

what's wrong, kid? startin' t' feel it now? . . . go on. drink up. perhaps it'll help dull the pain for when ya find out ya weren't quick enough t' save yer brother . . .

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He scowls, downing his drink in two goes again. This time he truly looks pissed)

Shut up! 'F ya know somethin' abou' 'im 'nd yer hidin' it I'll dus' you so fas' you won' even see I—

(They pause suddenly, both hands coming up to cover their mouth. He looks up at Ratchet, almost pleadingly, for a bucket before he has to have the other cleaning the floor)

ratchet-spanner

(he coughs out a low laugh at the others expression)

eh? somethin' wrong, kid?

(he offers another lopsided grin before reaching below the counter, and chucking an old tin bucket that smells like fuel and grease up on the counter. he empties the contents of it - which is mostly just nuts, bolts, and screws - before handing it over to the other)

like i said. lightweight.

(he grabs the bottle of whiskey now, downing the rest. he's not going to let some perfectly good alcohol go to waste)

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He empties his stomach, a low groan escaping him as he leans his side against the counter)

Nnno I c'n take 'ne more, make i' t' eigh'. 'M no' a ligh—

(They drop their head to the bucket again. After a moment he sets the bucket aside and practically lays his upper body on the counter, his face a bit flushed)

'Ne more.

ratchet-spanner

(he finishes off the bottle while the other throws up perfectly good whiskey. he sighs, tilting his head as he stares down at the other. he reaches down and firmly pats them on the head as he speaks. )

that was a good try, kiddo, i have to admit. wasn't good enough, though. sounds like yer gonna have to start listenin' to me now, eh? didn't think you'd go for as long as ya did . . . 's like lookin' into a mirror. yer not as strong as me though . . . ya still have some growing to do, huh?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sluggishly tries to push Spanner's hand away, almost falling over in the process)

Sto' treatin' m' like a kid. Ya gonna kill m' now? 'Cause y' though' I w's a spy? Go 'head.

(They step back, immediately falling straight on their ass. A hand goes to their holster but the sluggishness mixed with the clumsiness makes it nearly impossible for him to get it open)

ratchet-spanner

i'll quit treatin' you like a kid when ya stop actin' like one, how 'bout that?

(he frowns, watching the other stumble to the ground. he stays unmoving, not even bothering to go help him)

nah. yer too dumb to be a spy.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sighs, leaning forward with his face in his hands)

Ugghh . . . Jus'.. nee' s'me water. An' s'me time t' walk 'ome.

(They try to stand—the attempt met with him now being face down on the floor; unmoving. The only sign he hasn't actually passed out yet is a groan)

ratchet-spanner

now ya want water? . . . yer askin' too much from me now. what makes ya think that i'd help ya?

(he sighs, walking off to the back to get them some water. after a moment, he comes back. standing in front of bullet. the stares down at them for a moment, before hoisting him up with one hand, handing over the bottled water)

listen, kid, as much as i'd like to keep this party goin', i have work to do. where'd'ya live? let me take ya home.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He groans again as he's stood up. They take a small, cautious sip of water, then clumsily screw the lid back on)

Why woul' I tell ya tha'? I..

(Their voice trails off, their eyes closing)

Live a'.. 'bandoned place 'n zone.. two. Gotta b' close t'...

ratchet-spanner

(he sighs, pausing for a moment)

is that yer place or yer brothers? i think i'd be more comfortable with droppin' ya off at someplace where there'd be someone to help look after ya . . . i'm not confident in leavin' ya on yer own. 'm not that terrible of a person.

bullet-pop-kjrp

Mine.

(He sighs, trying to stand on his own. With all the moving the sound of a mostly empty pill bottle comes from somewhere)

Don' thin'.. he'd be a' 'is place righ' now. 'Ve go' Milo?

ratchet-spanner

(he frowns, trying to decipher what the other is saying to him)

. . . listen, kid. i dunno what the hell yer goin' on about, but there's no way i'm leavin' ya somewhere on yer own.

(without further notice, he lifts bullet up. carrying him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. he walks out of the store, turning to lock the door. he mumbles to himself)

. . . ya owe me, kid.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He groans, this time in vague annoyance. Though, once he's essentially weightless, he relaxes—only barely managing to not drop his cane and water bottle)

'll buy y' m're wh'skey. Slums kin'.

ratchet-spanner

(he ignores bullets remarks . . . what ever they may be. he makes his way over to his ute, opening the passenger door and carelessly throwing bullet in. he then goes around and gets into the drivers seat. he turns to the drunken mess next to him as he starts up the car)

jus' tell me where yer brother lives, kid. let me drop you off there. y'know zone two is a fair way out from here, and i'm not sober enough t' safely drive that far.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He grunts when he hits his side against the console)

Ow.. h' lives a' uh... four. Thin' there's a.. radio tower?

ratchet-spanner

ya think, huh? . . . alright, then.

(he drives off - the tower he assumes bullet is talking about only being about ten minutes away)

if ya needa throw up again, do it out the window. if ya get my car dirty, i'll leave ya out here in the middle of nowhere.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He curls up in the seat—head resting on the console. Their voice lowers again, the slurring making some of their words almost incomprehensible)

Alrigh', I won'. Jus'.. gonna nap. Don' kill me.

(Bullet closes their eyes, an arm partially covering their face)

ratchet-spanner

(he frowns, taking a moment to try and work out what the other said. he huffs out a laugh)

kill ya? why, that'd be just too easy, eh? besides, i feel like you've proven yerself tonight . . . yer . . . dedicated. i feel like we're pretty similar, you and i.

(he trails off, falling silent once more. the only sound that breaks the silence being the low rumbling of the car travelling across the road)

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He hums, but otherwise doesn't make a sound. The motion of the car does make him feel especially ill, but he moves his arm to cover his mouth instead)

Eugh..

ratchet-spanner

(he spares a half-glance at the other)

like i said, if yer gonna do it, do it out the window.

(the radio tower comes into view, he speaks up once more)

alright, are you conscious enough t' point me in the right direction from here?

•18+ Adults Only

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ratchet-spanner

No haggling you say…

nah. y'got a problem?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(It takes two goes to finish this one off. Bullet leans more heavily against the counter, his body finally starting to argue with the amount of alcohol he's consumed)

I know that! When ya ge' attached and ya lose 'em it hurts. I know that.

(He runs his hands through his hair—ignoring the strands that refuse to stay back)

Y' think I think th' world's all . . . Rainbows 'n shit? Y' dunno what 've been through. This next 'ne 'll be drink seven! Ge' ready t' pay up.

ratchet-spanner

(he grins, knowing that this competition is coming to an end soon. he, once again, fills their glasses. ratchet easily downs his own glass down)

what's wrong, kid? startin' t' feel it now? . . . go on. drink up. perhaps it'll help dull the pain for when ya find out ya weren't quick enough t' save yer brother . . .

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He scowls, downing his drink in two goes again. This time he truly looks pissed)

Shut up! 'F ya know somethin' abou' 'im 'nd yer hidin' it I'll dus' you so fas' you won' even see I—

(They pause suddenly, both hands coming up to cover their mouth. He looks up at Ratchet, almost pleadingly, for a bucket before he has to have the other cleaning the floor)

ratchet-spanner

(he coughs out a low laugh at the others expression)

eh? somethin' wrong, kid?

(he offers another lopsided grin before reaching below the counter, and chucking an old tin bucket that smells like fuel and grease up on the counter. he empties the contents of it - which is mostly just nuts, bolts, and screws - before handing it over to the other)

like i said. lightweight.

(he grabs the bottle of whiskey now, downing the rest. he's not going to let some perfectly good alcohol go to waste)

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He empties his stomach, a low groan escaping him as he leans his side against the counter)

Nnno I c'n take 'ne more, make i' t' eigh'. 'M no' a ligh—

(They drop their head to the bucket again. After a moment he sets the bucket aside and practically lays his upper body on the counter, his face a bit flushed)

'Ne more.

ratchet-spanner

(he finishes off the bottle while the other throws up perfectly good whiskey. he sighs, tilting his head as he stares down at the other. he reaches down and firmly pats them on the head as he speaks. )

that was a good try, kiddo, i have to admit. wasn't good enough, though. sounds like yer gonna have to start listenin' to me now, eh? didn't think you'd go for as long as ya did . . . 's like lookin' into a mirror. yer not as strong as me though . . . ya still have some growing to do, huh?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sluggishly tries to push Spanner's hand away, almost falling over in the process)

Sto' treatin' m' like a kid. Ya gonna kill m' now? 'Cause y' though' I w's a spy? Go 'head.

(They step back, immediately falling straight on their ass. A hand goes to their holster but the sluggishness mixed with the clumsiness makes it nearly impossible for him to get it open)

ratchet-spanner

i'll quit treatin' you like a kid when ya stop actin' like one, how 'bout that?

(he frowns, watching the other stumble to the ground. he stays unmoving, not even bothering to go help him)

nah. yer too dumb to be a spy.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sighs, leaning forward with his face in his hands)

Ugghh . . . Jus'.. nee' s'me water. An' s'me time t' walk 'ome.

(They try to stand—the attempt met with him now being face down on the floor; unmoving. The only sign he hasn't actually passed out yet is a groan)

ratchet-spanner

now ya want water? . . . yer askin' too much from me now. what makes ya think that i'd help ya?

(he sighs, walking off to the back to get them some water. after a moment, he comes back. standing in front of bullet. the stares down at them for a moment, before hoisting him up with one hand, handing over the bottled water)

listen, kid, as much as i'd like to keep this party goin', i have work to do. where'd'ya live? let me take ya home.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He groans again as he's stood up. They take a small, cautious sip of water, then clumsily screw the lid back on)

Why woul' I tell ya tha'? I..

(Their voice trails off, their eyes closing)

Live a'.. 'bandoned place 'n zone.. two. Gotta b' close t'...

ratchet-spanner

(he sighs, pausing for a moment)

is that yer place or yer brothers? i think i'd be more comfortable with droppin' ya off at someplace where there'd be someone to help look after ya . . . i'm not confident in leavin' ya on yer own. 'm not that terrible of a person.

bullet-pop-kjrp

Mine.

(He sighs, trying to stand on his own. With all the moving the sound of a mostly empty pill bottle comes from somewhere)

Don' thin'.. he'd be a' 'is place righ' now. 'Ve go' Milo?

ratchet-spanner

(he frowns, trying to decipher what the other is saying to him)

. . . listen, kid. i dunno what the hell yer goin' on about, but there's no way i'm leavin' ya somewhere on yer own.

(without further notice, he lifts bullet up. carrying him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. he walks out of the store, turning to lock the door. he mumbles to himself)

. . . ya owe me, kid.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He groans, this time in vague annoyance. Though, once he's essentially weightless, he relaxes—only barely managing to not drop his cane and water bottle)

'll buy y' m're wh'skey. Slums kin'.

ratchet-spanner

(he ignores bullets remarks . . . what ever they may be. he makes his way over to his ute, opening the passenger door and carelessly throwing bullet in. he then goes around and gets into the drivers seat. he turns to the drunken mess next to him as he starts up the car)

jus' tell me where yer brother lives, kid. let me drop you off there. y'know zone two is a fair way out from here, and i'm not sober enough t' safely drive that far.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He grunts when he hits his side against the console)

Ow.. h' lives a' uh... four. Thin' there's a.. radio tower?

ratchet-spanner

ya think, huh? . . . alright, then.

(he drives off - the tower he assumes bullet is talking about only being about ten minutes away)

if ya needa throw up again, do it out the window. if ya get my car dirty, i'll leave ya out here in the middle of nowhere.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He curls up in the seat—head resting on the console. Their voice lowers again, the slurring making some of their words almost incomprehensible)

Alrigh', I won'. Jus'.. gonna nap. Don' kill me.

(Bullet closes their eyes, an arm partially covering their face)

ratchet-spanner

(he frowns, taking a moment to try and work out what the other said. he huffs out a laugh)

kill ya? why, that'd be just too easy, eh? besides, i feel like you've proven yerself tonight . . . yer . . . dedicated. i feel like we're pretty similar, you and i.

(he trails off, falling silent once more. the only sound that breaks the silence being the low rumbling of the car travelling across the road)

ratchet-spanner

No haggling you say…

nah. y'got a problem?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(It takes two goes to finish this one off. Bullet leans more heavily against the counter, his body finally starting to argue with the amount of alcohol he's consumed)

I know that! When ya ge' attached and ya lose 'em it hurts. I know that.

(He runs his hands through his hair—ignoring the strands that refuse to stay back)

Y' think I think th' world's all . . . Rainbows 'n shit? Y' dunno what 've been through. This next 'ne 'll be drink seven! Ge' ready t' pay up.

ratchet-spanner

(he grins, knowing that this competition is coming to an end soon. he, once again, fills their glasses. ratchet easily downs his own glass down)

what's wrong, kid? startin' t' feel it now? . . . go on. drink up. perhaps it'll help dull the pain for when ya find out ya weren't quick enough t' save yer brother . . .

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He scowls, downing his drink in two goes again. This time he truly looks pissed)

Shut up! 'F ya know somethin' abou' 'im 'nd yer hidin' it I'll dus' you so fas' you won' even see I—

(They pause suddenly, both hands coming up to cover their mouth. He looks up at Ratchet, almost pleadingly, for a bucket before he has to have the other cleaning the floor)

ratchet-spanner

(he coughs out a low laugh at the others expression)

eh? somethin' wrong, kid?

(he offers another lopsided grin before reaching below the counter, and chucking an old tin bucket that smells like fuel and grease up on the counter. he empties the contents of it - which is mostly just nuts, bolts, and screws - before handing it over to the other)

like i said. lightweight.

(he grabs the bottle of whiskey now, downing the rest. he's not going to let some perfectly good alcohol go to waste)

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He empties his stomach, a low groan escaping him as he leans his side against the counter)

Nnno I c'n take 'ne more, make i' t' eigh'. 'M no' a ligh—

(They drop their head to the bucket again. After a moment he sets the bucket aside and practically lays his upper body on the counter, his face a bit flushed)

'Ne more.

ratchet-spanner

(he finishes off the bottle while the other throws up perfectly good whiskey. he sighs, tilting his head as he stares down at the other. he reaches down and firmly pats them on the head as he speaks. )

that was a good try, kiddo, i have to admit. wasn't good enough, though. sounds like yer gonna have to start listenin' to me now, eh? didn't think you'd go for as long as ya did . . . 's like lookin' into a mirror. yer not as strong as me though . . . ya still have some growing to do, huh?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sluggishly tries to push Spanner's hand away, almost falling over in the process)

Sto' treatin' m' like a kid. Ya gonna kill m' now? 'Cause y' though' I w's a spy? Go 'head.

(They step back, immediately falling straight on their ass. A hand goes to their holster but the sluggishness mixed with the clumsiness makes it nearly impossible for him to get it open)

ratchet-spanner

i'll quit treatin' you like a kid when ya stop actin' like one, how 'bout that?

(he frowns, watching the other stumble to the ground. he stays unmoving, not even bothering to go help him)

nah. yer too dumb to be a spy.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sighs, leaning forward with his face in his hands)

Ugghh . . . Jus'.. nee' s'me water. An' s'me time t' walk 'ome.

(They try to stand—the attempt met with him now being face down on the floor; unmoving. The only sign he hasn't actually passed out yet is a groan)

ratchet-spanner

now ya want water? . . . yer askin' too much from me now. what makes ya think that i'd help ya?

(he sighs, walking off to the back to get them some water. after a moment, he comes back. standing in front of bullet. the stares down at them for a moment, before hoisting him up with one hand, handing over the bottled water)

listen, kid, as much as i'd like to keep this party goin', i have work to do. where'd'ya live? let me take ya home.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He groans again as he's stood up. They take a small, cautious sip of water, then clumsily screw the lid back on)

Why woul' I tell ya tha'? I..

(Their voice trails off, their eyes closing)

Live a'.. 'bandoned place 'n zone.. two. Gotta b' close t'...

ratchet-spanner

(he sighs, pausing for a moment)

is that yer place or yer brothers? i think i'd be more comfortable with droppin' ya off at someplace where there'd be someone to help look after ya . . . i'm not confident in leavin' ya on yer own. 'm not that terrible of a person.

bullet-pop-kjrp

Mine.

(He sighs, trying to stand on his own. With all the moving the sound of a mostly empty pill bottle comes from somewhere)

Don' thin'.. he'd be a' 'is place righ' now. 'Ve go' Milo?

ratchet-spanner

(he frowns, trying to decipher what the other is saying to him)

. . . listen, kid. i dunno what the hell yer goin' on about, but there's no way i'm leavin' ya somewhere on yer own.

(without further notice, he lifts bullet up. carrying him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. he walks out of the store, turning to lock the door. he mumbles to himself)

. . . ya owe me, kid.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He groans, this time in vague annoyance. Though, once he's essentially weightless, he relaxes—only barely managing to not drop his cane and water bottle)

'll buy y' m're wh'skey. Slums kin'.

ratchet-spanner

(he ignores bullets remarks . . . what ever they may be. he makes his way over to his ute, opening the passenger door and carelessly throwing bullet in. he then goes around and gets into the drivers seat. he turns to the drunken mess next to him as he starts up the car)

jus' tell me where yer brother lives, kid. let me drop you off there. y'know zone two is a fair way out from here, and i'm not sober enough t' safely drive that far.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He grunts when he hits his side against the console)

Ow.. h' lives a' uh... four. Thin' there's a.. radio tower?

ratchet-spanner

ya think, huh? . . . alright, then.

(he drives off - the tower he assumes bullet is talking about only being about ten minutes away)

if ya needa throw up again, do it out the window. if ya get my car dirty, i'll leave ya out here in the middle of nowhere.

ratchet-spanner

No haggling you say…

nah. y'got a problem?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(It takes two goes to finish this one off. Bullet leans more heavily against the counter, his body finally starting to argue with the amount of alcohol he's consumed)

I know that! When ya ge' attached and ya lose 'em it hurts. I know that.

(He runs his hands through his hair—ignoring the strands that refuse to stay back)

Y' think I think th' world's all . . . Rainbows 'n shit? Y' dunno what 've been through. This next 'ne 'll be drink seven! Ge' ready t' pay up.

ratchet-spanner

(he grins, knowing that this competition is coming to an end soon. he, once again, fills their glasses. ratchet easily downs his own glass down)

what's wrong, kid? startin' t' feel it now? . . . go on. drink up. perhaps it'll help dull the pain for when ya find out ya weren't quick enough t' save yer brother . . .

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He scowls, downing his drink in two goes again. This time he truly looks pissed)

Shut up! 'F ya know somethin' abou' 'im 'nd yer hidin' it I'll dus' you so fas' you won' even see I—

(They pause suddenly, both hands coming up to cover their mouth. He looks up at Ratchet, almost pleadingly, for a bucket before he has to have the other cleaning the floor)

ratchet-spanner

(he coughs out a low laugh at the others expression)

eh? somethin' wrong, kid?

(he offers another lopsided grin before reaching below the counter, and chucking an old tin bucket that smells like fuel and grease up on the counter. he empties the contents of it - which is mostly just nuts, bolts, and screws - before handing it over to the other)

like i said. lightweight.

(he grabs the bottle of whiskey now, downing the rest. he's not going to let some perfectly good alcohol go to waste)

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He empties his stomach, a low groan escaping him as he leans his side against the counter)

Nnno I c'n take 'ne more, make i' t' eigh'. 'M no' a ligh—

(They drop their head to the bucket again. After a moment he sets the bucket aside and practically lays his upper body on the counter, his face a bit flushed)

'Ne more.

ratchet-spanner

(he finishes off the bottle while the other throws up perfectly good whiskey. he sighs, tilting his head as he stares down at the other. he reaches down and firmly pats them on the head as he speaks. )

that was a good try, kiddo, i have to admit. wasn't good enough, though. sounds like yer gonna have to start listenin' to me now, eh? didn't think you'd go for as long as ya did . . . 's like lookin' into a mirror. yer not as strong as me though . . . ya still have some growing to do, huh?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sluggishly tries to push Spanner's hand away, almost falling over in the process)

Sto' treatin' m' like a kid. Ya gonna kill m' now? 'Cause y' though' I w's a spy? Go 'head.

(They step back, immediately falling straight on their ass. A hand goes to their holster but the sluggishness mixed with the clumsiness makes it nearly impossible for him to get it open)

ratchet-spanner

i'll quit treatin' you like a kid when ya stop actin' like one, how 'bout that?

(he frowns, watching the other stumble to the ground. he stays unmoving, not even bothering to go help him)

nah. yer too dumb to be a spy.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sighs, leaning forward with his face in his hands)

Ugghh . . . Jus'.. nee' s'me water. An' s'me time t' walk 'ome.

(They try to stand—the attempt met with him now being face down on the floor; unmoving. The only sign he hasn't actually passed out yet is a groan)

ratchet-spanner

now ya want water? . . . yer askin' too much from me now. what makes ya think that i'd help ya?

(he sighs, walking off to the back to get them some water. after a moment, he comes back. standing in front of bullet. the stares down at them for a moment, before hoisting him up with one hand, handing over the bottled water)

listen, kid, as much as i'd like to keep this party goin', i have work to do. where'd'ya live? let me take ya home.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He groans again as he's stood up. They take a small, cautious sip of water, then clumsily screw the lid back on)

Why woul' I tell ya tha'? I..

(Their voice trails off, their eyes closing)

Live a'.. 'bandoned place 'n zone.. two. Gotta b' close t'...

ratchet-spanner

(he sighs, pausing for a moment)

is that yer place or yer brothers? i think i'd be more comfortable with droppin' ya off at someplace where there'd be someone to help look after ya . . . i'm not confident in leavin' ya on yer own. 'm not that terrible of a person.

bullet-pop-kjrp

Mine.

(He sighs, trying to stand on his own. With all the moving the sound of a mostly empty pill bottle comes from somewhere)

Don' thin'.. he'd be a' 'is place righ' now. 'Ve go' Milo?

ratchet-spanner

(he frowns, trying to decipher what the other is saying to him)

. . . listen, kid. i dunno what the hell yer goin' on about, but there's no way i'm leavin' ya somewhere on yer own.

(without further notice, he lifts bullet up. carrying him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. he walks out of the store, turning to lock the door. he mumbles to himself)

. . . ya owe me, kid.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He groans, this time in vague annoyance. Though, once he's essentially weightless, he relaxes—only barely managing to not drop his cane and water bottle)

'll buy y' m're wh'skey. Slums kin'.

ratchet-spanner

(he ignores bullets remarks . . . what ever they may be. he makes his way over to his ute, opening the passenger door and carelessly throwing bullet in. he then goes around and gets into the drivers seat. he turns to the drunken mess next to him as he starts up the car)

jus' tell me where yer brother lives, kid. let me drop you off there. y'know zone two is a fair way out from here, and i'm not sober enough t' safely drive that far.

ratchet-spanner

No haggling you say…

nah. y'got a problem?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(It takes two goes to finish this one off. Bullet leans more heavily against the counter, his body finally starting to argue with the amount of alcohol he's consumed)

I know that! When ya ge' attached and ya lose 'em it hurts. I know that.

(He runs his hands through his hair—ignoring the strands that refuse to stay back)

Y' think I think th' world's all . . . Rainbows 'n shit? Y' dunno what 've been through. This next 'ne 'll be drink seven! Ge' ready t' pay up.

ratchet-spanner

(he grins, knowing that this competition is coming to an end soon. he, once again, fills their glasses. ratchet easily downs his own glass down)

what's wrong, kid? startin' t' feel it now? . . . go on. drink up. perhaps it'll help dull the pain for when ya find out ya weren't quick enough t' save yer brother . . .

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He scowls, downing his drink in two goes again. This time he truly looks pissed)

Shut up! 'F ya know somethin' abou' 'im 'nd yer hidin' it I'll dus' you so fas' you won' even see I—

(They pause suddenly, both hands coming up to cover their mouth. He looks up at Ratchet, almost pleadingly, for a bucket before he has to have the other cleaning the floor)

ratchet-spanner

(he coughs out a low laugh at the others expression)

eh? somethin' wrong, kid?

(he offers another lopsided grin before reaching below the counter, and chucking an old tin bucket that smells like fuel and grease up on the counter. he empties the contents of it - which is mostly just nuts, bolts, and screws - before handing it over to the other)

like i said. lightweight.

(he grabs the bottle of whiskey now, downing the rest. he's not going to let some perfectly good alcohol go to waste)

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He empties his stomach, a low groan escaping him as he leans his side against the counter)

Nnno I c'n take 'ne more, make i' t' eigh'. 'M no' a ligh—

(They drop their head to the bucket again. After a moment he sets the bucket aside and practically lays his upper body on the counter, his face a bit flushed)

'Ne more.

ratchet-spanner

(he finishes off the bottle while the other throws up perfectly good whiskey. he sighs, tilting his head as he stares down at the other. he reaches down and firmly pats them on the head as he speaks. )

that was a good try, kiddo, i have to admit. wasn't good enough, though. sounds like yer gonna have to start listenin' to me now, eh? didn't think you'd go for as long as ya did . . . 's like lookin' into a mirror. yer not as strong as me though . . . ya still have some growing to do, huh?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sluggishly tries to push Spanner's hand away, almost falling over in the process)

Sto' treatin' m' like a kid. Ya gonna kill m' now? 'Cause y' though' I w's a spy? Go 'head.

(They step back, immediately falling straight on their ass. A hand goes to their holster but the sluggishness mixed with the clumsiness makes it nearly impossible for him to get it open)

ratchet-spanner

i'll quit treatin' you like a kid when ya stop actin' like one, how 'bout that?

(he frowns, watching the other stumble to the ground. he stays unmoving, not even bothering to go help him)

nah. yer too dumb to be a spy.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sighs, leaning forward with his face in his hands)

Ugghh . . . Jus'.. nee' s'me water. An' s'me time t' walk 'ome.

(They try to stand—the attempt met with him now being face down on the floor; unmoving. The only sign he hasn't actually passed out yet is a groan)

ratchet-spanner

now ya want water? . . . yer askin' too much from me now. what makes ya think that i'd help ya?

(he sighs, walking off to the back to get them some water. after a moment, he comes back. standing in front of bullet. the stares down at them for a moment, before hoisting him up with one hand, handing over the bottled water)

listen, kid, as much as i'd like to keep this party goin', i have work to do. where'd'ya live? let me take ya home.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He groans again as he's stood up. They take a small, cautious sip of water, then clumsily screw the lid back on)

Why woul' I tell ya tha'? I..

(Their voice trails off, their eyes closing)

Live a'.. 'bandoned place 'n zone.. two. Gotta b' close t'...

ratchet-spanner

(he sighs, pausing for a moment)

is that yer place or yer brothers? i think i'd be more comfortable with droppin' ya off at someplace where there'd be someone to help look after ya . . . i'm not confident in leavin' ya on yer own. 'm not that terrible of a person.

bullet-pop-kjrp

Mine.

(He sighs, trying to stand on his own. With all the moving the sound of a mostly empty pill bottle comes from somewhere)

Don' thin'.. he'd be a' 'is place righ' now. 'Ve go' Milo?

ratchet-spanner

(he frowns, trying to decipher what the other is saying to him)

. . . listen, kid. i dunno what the hell yer goin' on about, but there's no way i'm leavin' ya somewhere on yer own.

(without further notice, he lifts bullet up. carrying him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. he walks out of the store, turning to lock the door. he mumbles to himself)

. . . ya owe me, kid.

ratchet-spanner

No haggling you say…

nah. y'got a problem?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(It takes two goes to finish this one off. Bullet leans more heavily against the counter, his body finally starting to argue with the amount of alcohol he's consumed)

I know that! When ya ge' attached and ya lose 'em it hurts. I know that.

(He runs his hands through his hair—ignoring the strands that refuse to stay back)

Y' think I think th' world's all . . . Rainbows 'n shit? Y' dunno what 've been through. This next 'ne 'll be drink seven! Ge' ready t' pay up.

ratchet-spanner

(he grins, knowing that this competition is coming to an end soon. he, once again, fills their glasses. ratchet easily downs his own glass down)

what's wrong, kid? startin' t' feel it now? . . . go on. drink up. perhaps it'll help dull the pain for when ya find out ya weren't quick enough t' save yer brother . . .

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He scowls, downing his drink in two goes again. This time he truly looks pissed)

Shut up! 'F ya know somethin' abou' 'im 'nd yer hidin' it I'll dus' you so fas' you won' even see I—

(They pause suddenly, both hands coming up to cover their mouth. He looks up at Ratchet, almost pleadingly, for a bucket before he has to have the other cleaning the floor)

ratchet-spanner

(he coughs out a low laugh at the others expression)

eh? somethin' wrong, kid?

(he offers another lopsided grin before reaching below the counter, and chucking an old tin bucket that smells like fuel and grease up on the counter. he empties the contents of it - which is mostly just nuts, bolts, and screws - before handing it over to the other)

like i said. lightweight.

(he grabs the bottle of whiskey now, downing the rest. he's not going to let some perfectly good alcohol go to waste)

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He empties his stomach, a low groan escaping him as he leans his side against the counter)

Nnno I c'n take 'ne more, make i' t' eigh'. 'M no' a ligh—

(They drop their head to the bucket again. After a moment he sets the bucket aside and practically lays his upper body on the counter, his face a bit flushed)

'Ne more.

ratchet-spanner

(he finishes off the bottle while the other throws up perfectly good whiskey. he sighs, tilting his head as he stares down at the other. he reaches down and firmly pats them on the head as he speaks. )

that was a good try, kiddo, i have to admit. wasn't good enough, though. sounds like yer gonna have to start listenin' to me now, eh? didn't think you'd go for as long as ya did . . . 's like lookin' into a mirror. yer not as strong as me though . . . ya still have some growing to do, huh?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sluggishly tries to push Spanner's hand away, almost falling over in the process)

Sto' treatin' m' like a kid. Ya gonna kill m' now? 'Cause y' though' I w's a spy? Go 'head.

(They step back, immediately falling straight on their ass. A hand goes to their holster but the sluggishness mixed with the clumsiness makes it nearly impossible for him to get it open)

ratchet-spanner

i'll quit treatin' you like a kid when ya stop actin' like one, how 'bout that?

(he frowns, watching the other stumble to the ground. he stays unmoving, not even bothering to go help him)

nah. yer too dumb to be a spy.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sighs, leaning forward with his face in his hands)

Ugghh . . . Jus'.. nee' s'me water. An' s'me time t' walk 'ome.

(They try to stand—the attempt met with him now being face down on the floor; unmoving. The only sign he hasn't actually passed out yet is a groan)

ratchet-spanner

now ya want water? . . . yer askin' too much from me now. what makes ya think that i'd help ya?

(he sighs, walking off to the back to get them some water. after a moment, he comes back. standing in front of bullet. the stares down at them for a moment, before hoisting him up with one hand, handing over the bottled water)

listen, kid, as much as i'd like to keep this party goin', i have work to do. where'd'ya live? let me take ya home.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He groans again as he's stood up. They take a small, cautious sip of water, then clumsily screw the lid back on)

Why woul' I tell ya tha'? I..

(Their voice trails off, their eyes closing)

Live a'.. 'bandoned place 'n zone.. two. Gotta b' close t'...

ratchet-spanner

(he sighs, pausing for a moment)

is that yer place or yer brothers? i think i'd be more comfortable with droppin' ya off at someplace where there'd be someone to help look after ya . . . i'm not confident in leavin' ya on yer own. 'm not that terrible of a person.

•18+ Adults Only

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ratchet-spanner

No haggling you say…

nah. y'got a problem?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(It takes two goes to finish this one off. Bullet leans more heavily against the counter, his body finally starting to argue with the amount of alcohol he's consumed)

I know that! When ya ge' attached and ya lose 'em it hurts. I know that.

(He runs his hands through his hair—ignoring the strands that refuse to stay back)

Y' think I think th' world's all . . . Rainbows 'n shit? Y' dunno what 've been through. This next 'ne 'll be drink seven! Ge' ready t' pay up.

ratchet-spanner

(he grins, knowing that this competition is coming to an end soon. he, once again, fills their glasses. ratchet easily downs his own glass down)

what's wrong, kid? startin' t' feel it now? . . . go on. drink up. perhaps it'll help dull the pain for when ya find out ya weren't quick enough t' save yer brother . . .

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He scowls, downing his drink in two goes again. This time he truly looks pissed)

Shut up! 'F ya know somethin' abou' 'im 'nd yer hidin' it I'll dus' you so fas' you won' even see I—

(They pause suddenly, both hands coming up to cover their mouth. He looks up at Ratchet, almost pleadingly, for a bucket before he has to have the other cleaning the floor)

ratchet-spanner

(he coughs out a low laugh at the others expression)

eh? somethin' wrong, kid?

(he offers another lopsided grin before reaching below the counter, and chucking an old tin bucket that smells like fuel and grease up on the counter. he empties the contents of it - which is mostly just nuts, bolts, and screws - before handing it over to the other)

like i said. lightweight.

(he grabs the bottle of whiskey now, downing the rest. he's not going to let some perfectly good alcohol go to waste)

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He empties his stomach, a low groan escaping him as he leans his side against the counter)

Nnno I c'n take 'ne more, make i' t' eigh'. 'M no' a ligh—

(They drop their head to the bucket again. After a moment he sets the bucket aside and practically lays his upper body on the counter, his face a bit flushed)

'Ne more.

ratchet-spanner

(he finishes off the bottle while the other throws up perfectly good whiskey. he sighs, tilting his head as he stares down at the other. he reaches down and firmly pats them on the head as he speaks. )

that was a good try, kiddo, i have to admit. wasn't good enough, though. sounds like yer gonna have to start listenin' to me now, eh? didn't think you'd go for as long as ya did . . . 's like lookin' into a mirror. yer not as strong as me though . . . ya still have some growing to do, huh?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sluggishly tries to push Spanner's hand away, almost falling over in the process)

Sto' treatin' m' like a kid. Ya gonna kill m' now? 'Cause y' though' I w's a spy? Go 'head.

(They step back, immediately falling straight on their ass. A hand goes to their holster but the sluggishness mixed with the clumsiness makes it nearly impossible for him to get it open)

ratchet-spanner

i'll quit treatin' you like a kid when ya stop actin' like one, how 'bout that?

(he frowns, watching the other stumble to the ground. he stays unmoving, not even bothering to go help him)

nah. yer too dumb to be a spy.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sighs, leaning forward with his face in his hands)

Ugghh . . . Jus'.. nee' s'me water. An' s'me time t' walk 'ome.

(They try to stand—the attempt met with him now being face down on the floor; unmoving. The only sign he hasn't actually passed out yet is a groan)

ratchet-spanner

now ya want water? . . . yer askin' too much from me now. what makes ya think that i'd help ya?

(he sighs, walking off to the back to get them some water. after a moment, he comes back. standing in front of bullet. the stares down at them for a moment, before hoisting him up with one hand, handing over the bottled water)

listen, kid, as much as i'd like to keep this party goin', i have work to do. where'd'ya live? let me take ya home.

ratchet-spanner

No haggling you say…

nah. y'got a problem?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(It takes two goes to finish this one off. Bullet leans more heavily against the counter, his body finally starting to argue with the amount of alcohol he's consumed)

I know that! When ya ge' attached and ya lose 'em it hurts. I know that.

(He runs his hands through his hair—ignoring the strands that refuse to stay back)

Y' think I think th' world's all . . . Rainbows 'n shit? Y' dunno what 've been through. This next 'ne 'll be drink seven! Ge' ready t' pay up.

ratchet-spanner

(he grins, knowing that this competition is coming to an end soon. he, once again, fills their glasses. ratchet easily downs his own glass down)

what's wrong, kid? startin' t' feel it now? . . . go on. drink up. perhaps it'll help dull the pain for when ya find out ya weren't quick enough t' save yer brother . . .

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He scowls, downing his drink in two goes again. This time he truly looks pissed)

Shut up! 'F ya know somethin' abou' 'im 'nd yer hidin' it I'll dus' you so fas' you won' even see I—

(They pause suddenly, both hands coming up to cover their mouth. He looks up at Ratchet, almost pleadingly, for a bucket before he has to have the other cleaning the floor)

ratchet-spanner

(he coughs out a low laugh at the others expression)

eh? somethin' wrong, kid?

(he offers another lopsided grin before reaching below the counter, and chucking an old tin bucket that smells like fuel and grease up on the counter. he empties the contents of it - which is mostly just nuts, bolts, and screws - before handing it over to the other)

like i said. lightweight.

(he grabs the bottle of whiskey now, downing the rest. he's not going to let some perfectly good alcohol go to waste)

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He empties his stomach, a low groan escaping him as he leans his side against the counter)

Nnno I c'n take 'ne more, make i' t' eigh'. 'M no' a ligh—

(They drop their head to the bucket again. After a moment he sets the bucket aside and practically lays his upper body on the counter, his face a bit flushed)

'Ne more.

ratchet-spanner

(he finishes off the bottle while the other throws up perfectly good whiskey. he sighs, tilting his head as he stares down at the other. he reaches down and firmly pats them on the head as he speaks. )

that was a good try, kiddo, i have to admit. wasn't good enough, though. sounds like yer gonna have to start listenin' to me now, eh? didn't think you'd go for as long as ya did . . . 's like lookin' into a mirror. yer not as strong as me though . . . ya still have some growing to do, huh?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He sluggishly tries to push Spanner's hand away, almost falling over in the process)

Sto' treatin' m' like a kid. Ya gonna kill m' now? 'Cause y' though' I w's a spy? Go 'head.

(They step back, immediately falling straight on their ass. A hand goes to their holster but the sluggishness mixed with the clumsiness makes it nearly impossible for him to get it open)

ratchet-spanner

i'll quit treatin' you like a kid when ya stop actin' like one, how 'bout that?

(he frowns, watching the other stumble to the ground. he stays unmoving, not even bothering to go help him)

nah. yer too dumb to be a spy.

ratchet-spanner

No haggling you say…

nah. y'got a problem?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(It takes two goes to finish this one off. Bullet leans more heavily against the counter, his body finally starting to argue with the amount of alcohol he's consumed)

I know that! When ya ge' attached and ya lose 'em it hurts. I know that.

(He runs his hands through his hair—ignoring the strands that refuse to stay back)

Y' think I think th' world's all . . . Rainbows 'n shit? Y' dunno what 've been through. This next 'ne 'll be drink seven! Ge' ready t' pay up.

ratchet-spanner

(he grins, knowing that this competition is coming to an end soon. he, once again, fills their glasses. ratchet easily downs his own glass down)

what's wrong, kid? startin' t' feel it now? . . . go on. drink up. perhaps it'll help dull the pain for when ya find out ya weren't quick enough t' save yer brother . . .

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He scowls, downing his drink in two goes again. This time he truly looks pissed)

Shut up! 'F ya know somethin' abou' 'im 'nd yer hidin' it I'll dus' you so fas' you won' even see I—

(They pause suddenly, both hands coming up to cover their mouth. He looks up at Ratchet, almost pleadingly, for a bucket before he has to have the other cleaning the floor)

ratchet-spanner

(he coughs out a low laugh at the others expression)

eh? somethin' wrong, kid?

(he offers another lopsided grin before reaching below the counter, and chucking an old tin bucket that smells like fuel and grease up on the counter. he empties the contents of it - which is mostly just nuts, bolts, and screws - before handing it over to the other)

like i said. lightweight.

(he grabs the bottle of whiskey now, downing the rest. he's not going to let some perfectly good alcohol go to waste)

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He empties his stomach, a low groan escaping him as he leans his side against the counter)

Nnno I c'n take 'ne more, make i' t' eigh'. 'M no' a ligh—

(They drop their head to the bucket again. After a moment he sets the bucket aside and practically lays his upper body on the counter, his face a bit flushed)

'Ne more.

ratchet-spanner

(he finishes off the bottle while the other throws up perfectly good whiskey. he sighs, tilting his head as he stares down at the other. he reaches down and firmly pats them on the head as he speaks. )

that was a good try, kiddo, i have to admit. wasn't good enough, though. sounds like yer gonna have to start listenin' to me now, eh? didn't think you'd go for as long as ya did . . . 's like lookin' into a mirror. yer not as strong as me though . . . ya still have some growing to do, huh?

ratchet-spanner

No haggling you say…

nah. y'got a problem?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(It takes two goes to finish this one off. Bullet leans more heavily against the counter, his body finally starting to argue with the amount of alcohol he's consumed)

I know that! When ya ge' attached and ya lose 'em it hurts. I know that.

(He runs his hands through his hair—ignoring the strands that refuse to stay back)

Y' think I think th' world's all . . . Rainbows 'n shit? Y' dunno what 've been through. This next 'ne 'll be drink seven! Ge' ready t' pay up.

ratchet-spanner

(he grins, knowing that this competition is coming to an end soon. he, once again, fills their glasses. ratchet easily downs his own glass down)

what's wrong, kid? startin' t' feel it now? . . . go on. drink up. perhaps it'll help dull the pain for when ya find out ya weren't quick enough t' save yer brother . . .

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He scowls, downing his drink in two goes again. This time he truly looks pissed)

Shut up! 'F ya know somethin' abou' 'im 'nd yer hidin' it I'll dus' you so fas' you won' even see I—

(They pause suddenly, both hands coming up to cover their mouth. He looks up at Ratchet, almost pleadingly, for a bucket before he has to have the other cleaning the floor)

ratchet-spanner

(he coughs out a low laugh at the others expression)

eh? somethin' wrong, kid?

(he offers another lopsided grin before reaching below the counter, and chucking an old tin bucket that smells like fuel and grease up on the counter. he empties the contents of it - which is mostly just nuts, bolts, and screws - before handing it over to the other)

like i said. lightweight.

(he grabs the bottle of whiskey now, downing the rest. he's not going to let some perfectly good alcohol go to waste)

ratchet-spanner

No haggling you say…

nah. y'got a problem?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(It takes two goes to finish this one off. Bullet leans more heavily against the counter, his body finally starting to argue with the amount of alcohol he's consumed)

I know that! When ya ge' attached and ya lose 'em it hurts. I know that.

(He runs his hands through his hair—ignoring the strands that refuse to stay back)

Y' think I think th' world's all . . . Rainbows 'n shit? Y' dunno what 've been through. This next 'ne 'll be drink seven! Ge' ready t' pay up.

ratchet-spanner

(he grins, knowing that this competition is coming to an end soon. he, once again, fills their glasses. ratchet easily downs his own glass down)

what's wrong, kid? startin' t' feel it now? . . . go on. drink up. perhaps it'll help dull the pain for when ya find out ya weren't quick enough t' save yer brother . . .

•18+ Adults Only

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ratchet-spanner

No haggling you say…

nah. y'got a problem?

bullet-pop-kjrp

No… but how about a trade? I could find a way to make this worth your time.

ratchet-spanner

a trade, eh? what'd'ya have for me, lad? better yet . . . what is it you want from me?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(Puts his old beat-up crutch on the counter and leans his elbows on it)

I got this. Still works, isn't broken or anything. That for a cane… half off with the trade. How about it? Also, I have a question.

ratchet-spanner

(his movements are slow and intentional. his eyes gaze down at the old thing, before looking back up at the person in front of him. he pauses, his expressions unreadable. he sighs tiredly, it almost seeming as if he's going to decline until he speaks up once more)

. . . alright. i can do that for you.

(he takes the crutch and sets it down behind the counter. he gestures the other to follow him as he walks deeper into the store. the place smelling like wood-shavings, dust, and fuel)

ask away.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(They watch just as closely—hand resting on his gun just in case things go sideways. Once he gets an agreement they drop their arm)

Great.

(Bullet watches him set the crutch out of his reach, then as he's told to move. It seems like they want to say something, but he limps over anyway—wincing)

Have you seen a guy with a cowboy hat? About.. this tall? Stupid but won't admit it?

ratchet-spanner

(they end up in one of the far corners of the store - there being a collection of different crutches and canes leaning against the wall. some made of metal, some made of wood. he nods towards it)

take yer pick.

(he frowns at the question, thinking for a moment. he huffs out a laugh at the description. hesitating before answering)

huh . . . stupid but won't admit it you say? well, i might be able to help you out there . . . although it depends. why're you askin'? you got a hit out on 'em or somethin'? 'cause in that case, i won't be any help.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He basically balances on one leg, his bad one slightly lifted with a hand at his thigh. It's clear he's trying to hide it, but he's failing miserably)

Whatever lasts the longest. I'd guess metal? One of the flat handle ones.

(Bullet just shakes his head)

Nah, he's my… he's my brother. Saw him the other day and now he's missin'.

ratchet-spanner

(he shrugs, standing tall with his arms crossed)

the metal ones would usually cost ya more but . . . i suppose i'll let one of 'em go for a bit cheaper. 's not like they're sellin' often.

(he frowns as he walks over, grabbing a few canes to show to the other. they're all pretty similar - the only differences between them being the metal type and the engravings that run down the side of them)

yer brother, eh? someone matchin' yer description did come in a few days ago askin' for some alterations on 'is raygun . . . but other than that, haven't seen 'em since.

bullet-pop-kjrp

Thanks, I imagine not many—

(He snatches one of the canes, immediately resting most of his weight on it with an obvious look of relief. To anyone who knows anything about canes it's clear he has no clue how to use one properly)

—people use 'em. And… yeah, he's my brother, but he doesn't look a thing like me. He's got a funny accent.

ratchet-spanner

(his frown deepens as he puts the rest of the canes back where they were. he looks the other up and down suspiciously)

now, either yer a spy, or yer just bloody stupid. yer using it wrong . . . and the guy yer talkin' about is pretty short, right? bit full of 'emself? that's definitely the one i saw. asked if i could attach a bazooka to 'is gun . . . i told 'em to fuck off and t' not waste my time.

bullet-pop-kjrp

Do you really think I'm a spy? And y'know, I've been using my crutch long enough I think I'd know if I were usin' it wrong.

(Bullet simply stares, brows furrowed)

Dammit… yeah that sounds like him. Did he say where he was going?

ratchet-spanner

just stupid then? got it. yer meant to be holding it with yer other hand . . . so yer not puttin' weight on yer bad leg. and i don't doubt that you've been usin' a crutch for a long while . . . seems like it's made whatever yer injury is much worse since yer doing it wrong.

(he huffs, shaking his head in response)

nope. i'm not the kinda guy t' question people . . . 's none of my business. besides, i kicked 'em out before he could ramble on for much longer. but by the sounds of it, i'd assume he went far out to get into some fight . . . why else would someone ask for so many impossible alterations on their gun? . . . unless . . . that's just the way yer brother is . . . in which case i'd suggest keepin' 'em on a tighter leash.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He simply rolls his eyes, not necessarily ignoring the advice but clearly not caring much. Regardless he hands over the carbons for the cane)

He's stupid, like I said. Couldn't keep him on a “tighter leash” even if I wanted to. Guess l'll just have to wait for him to show back up.. not that uncommon for him to run off for a bit.

(They start to leave, limp more noticeable before his leg simply gives out from under him—the cane clattering to the floor beside him. They don't bother getting up, waiting for an “I told ya so”)

ratchet-spanner

(he pockets the carbons, simply sighing tiredly in response to the eye roll. he begins to make his way back over to the counter)

'm pretty sure we both know that if ya tired hard enough, ya could. out here, it's important to protect the people that ya love. most killjoys die young . . . and i wouldn't want yer brother to be part of that statistic.

(he watches the other collapse to the floor, unfazed. he blinks slowly, silent as he turns his attention back to the counter in front of him)

ya really should listen to me, kid. i've been a 'joy longer than you've been alive . . . maybe ya just need some encouragement to listen to this old man, eh? . . . i'll tell ya what, if you can out-drink me, i'll let ya have that cane for free, and i'll leave ya alone. but if i win, you gotta start listenin' to me. wha'd'ya say?

bullet-pop-kjrp

And you think I want that for him? He's too stubborn to be stopped.. once he wants to do something he's gonna do it.

(He slowly stands, wincing faintly)

A drinking competition? Hm . . . Y'know what, sure. I'll take your offer. What're we drinkin'?

ratchet-spanner

seems to me like yer not tryin' hard enough . . . y'seem like a bit of a quitter, kid.

(he reaches for something below the counter, coming up with an unopened bottle of whiskey and two very nice glasses. he pours a generous amount into both the cups)

only my favourite. got this one in from the city . . . made for the people who live in the slums - stronger, than normal. the kinda shit that makes y'forget who you are for a week after. ya in, kid?

bullet-pop-kjrp

What the hell are you sayin'? That I don't have the guts to finish something? You don't even know me.

(He grimaces, watching closely as the drinks are poured. In truth, he's waiting for Ratchet to drink his own first)

I already said I'm in, old man, 'cause I'm no quitter.

ratchet-spanner

what i'm sayin', kiddo, is that i think yer scared. and 'm not jus' talkin' about the alcohol in front of us.

(he picks up his own glass, holding it up for a moment)

cheers.

bullet-pop-kjrp

Only thing I'm scared of is losin'—

(He downs his in one go, then clanks his glass against the other—his expression twisting slightly at the burn)

—and I don't plan on losin' this. Cheers. I need a refill.

ratchet-spanner

exactly. yer scared of losin'. that's why ya don't try.

(he huffs out a sort of laugh through his nose, a faint smile on his face. he happily gulps down his own glass before refilling both of them. he takes a swig once again)

ah . . . that's the stuff. better than all this zone brewed shit . . . i gotta hand it to ya, you 'nd yer brother are one in the same . . . yer both full of yerselves.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He just huffs, staring like he wants to explode the guy's head with his mind. As soon as his glass is refilled he chugs it down again and wipes his mouth with his sleeve, pushing the glass forward slightly for another refill)

I ain't full of myself. I know I'm no better than the next killjoy.

(They laugh under their breath)

But I know I can hold my alcohol. Fill it to the top this time. And you hardly know my brother, so don't talk about him like ya do.

ratchet-spanner

seems like ya like to say one thing then do another . . . yer no better than the next killjoy, eh? i don't believe that. yer the type 'f person to think they're better than everyone else . . . 'cause yer a coward. the sooner you admit it, the better.

(he offers a lopsided grin at the others cockiness. he does as they say, filling both the glasses to the top now. spanner seems relatively unchanged as he watches the other become more and more shitfaced. he finishes his glass once more)

yer right, i hardly know yer brother. but if i were you, i wouldn't spend my time here tryin' t' out-drink an old man . . . i'd be out lookin' for him. seems a bit selfish to me, eh?

bullet-pop-kjrp

I'm not a coward.

(He smiles back, downing his glass. They sway ever so slightly despite bracing themself on the counter)

An' now ya call me selfish? Is callin' me a coward and full of myself not good enough for you? He'll be fine.. always is. He's got the endurance of a damn cockroach. What drink was that? Three? I bet I can make it t' eight.

ratchet-spanner

(he hums, pouring the two of them another drink)

i'm jus' observing what i'm seein' . . . he'll be fine, eh? famous last words . . . let me ask you this: if you were the one missin', would he be out lookin' for ya right now? or would be also tryna out-drink an old man? 'cause i bet my finest coat he'd be out searchin' to the ends of the earth . . . but what do i know? i don't know either of ya, eh? if y'can make it t' eight, i'll give ya all the carbons i have to my name.

bullet-pop-kjrp

. . . Shut up, old man. You don' know us. Hell, jus' this time I stayed cooped up for days and he didn't visit 'til recently. We trust each other t' stay alive.

(He downs it again, this time giggling quietly)

Yer “stronger stuff” ain't that much stronger than th' stuff I drink at zone bars. Maybe two in one, but nothin' more. And I think 'm about to have some more carbons.

ratchet-spanner

hm . . . yer jus' full of excuses, aren't ya? well, if that brother of yer's ends up dusted, i told ya so.

(he watches in amusement. this competition might be easier than he initially thought. he pours yet another round for the two of them)

yer all bark and no bite, y'know that? i thought you were tougher than this . . . didn't know you were such a lightweight, kid.

bullet-pop-kjrp

And yer full o' shit. Yer jus' tauntin' me because you wanna, aren'cha?

(He downs it, this time taking a moment longer to recover from the burn—glass hitting the counter with slightly more force as his movements become clumsier)

Lightweight?! Bark 'n no bite?! What th' hell are ya talkin' about? I could show you bite but I wont 'cause I'm not stupid.

ratchet-spanner

(he ignores the other now, starting to feel the buzz himself. he pours them even more, showing no signs of slowing his pace. he moves his arm to bare his weight against the counter now, starting to get tired of standing)

y'sure 'bout that? ya seem pretty stupid to me - stupid is the only thing you've been showin' me today, kid. i can tell yer heavily driven by emotion . . . 'nd that can be dangerous.

ratchet-spanner

No haggling you say…

nah. y'got a problem?

bullet-pop-kjrp

No… but how about a trade? I could find a way to make this worth your time.

ratchet-spanner

a trade, eh? what'd'ya have for me, lad? better yet . . . what is it you want from me?

bullet-pop-kjrp

(Puts his old beat-up crutch on the counter and leans his elbows on it)

I got this. Still works, isn't broken or anything. That for a cane… half off with the trade. How about it? Also, I have a question.

ratchet-spanner

(his movements are slow and intentional. his eyes gaze down at the old thing, before looking back up at the person in front of him. he pauses, his expressions unreadable. he sighs tiredly, it almost seeming as if he's going to decline until he speaks up once more)

. . . alright. i can do that for you.

(he takes the crutch and sets it down behind the counter. he gestures the other to follow him as he walks deeper into the store. the place smelling like wood-shavings, dust, and fuel)

ask away.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(They watch just as closely—hand resting on his gun just in case things go sideways. Once he gets an agreement they drop their arm)

Great.

(Bullet watches him set the crutch out of his reach, then as he's told to move. It seems like they want to say something, but he limps over anyway—wincing)

Have you seen a guy with a cowboy hat? About.. this tall? Stupid but won't admit it?

ratchet-spanner

(they end up in one of the far corners of the store - there being a collection of different crutches and canes leaning against the wall. some made of metal, some made of wood. he nods towards it)

take yer pick.

(he frowns at the question, thinking for a moment. he huffs out a laugh at the description. hesitating before answering)

huh . . . stupid but won't admit it you say? well, i might be able to help you out there . . . although it depends. why're you askin'? you got a hit out on 'em or somethin'? 'cause in that case, i won't be any help.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He basically balances on one leg, his bad one slightly lifted with a hand at his thigh. It's clear he's trying to hide it, but he's failing miserably)

Whatever lasts the longest. I'd guess metal? One of the flat handle ones.

(Bullet just shakes his head)

Nah, he's my… he's my brother. Saw him the other day and now he's missin'.

ratchet-spanner

(he shrugs, standing tall with his arms crossed)

the metal ones would usually cost ya more but . . . i suppose i'll let one of 'em go for a bit cheaper. 's not like they're sellin' often.

(he frowns as he walks over, grabbing a few canes to show to the other. they're all pretty similar - the only differences between them being the metal type and the engravings that run down the side of them)

yer brother, eh? someone matchin' yer description did come in a few days ago askin' for some alterations on 'is raygun . . . but other than that, haven't seen 'em since.

bullet-pop-kjrp

Thanks, I imagine not many—

(He snatches one of the canes, immediately resting most of his weight on it with an obvious look of relief. To anyone who knows anything about canes it's clear he has no clue how to use one properly)

—people use 'em. And… yeah, he's my brother, but he doesn't look a thing like me. He's got a funny accent.

ratchet-spanner

(his frown deepens as he puts the rest of the canes back where they were. he looks the other up and down suspiciously)

now, either yer a spy, or yer just bloody stupid. yer using it wrong . . . and the guy yer talkin' about is pretty short, right? bit full of 'emself? that's definitely the one i saw. asked if i could attach a bazooka to 'is gun . . . i told 'em to fuck off and t' not waste my time.

bullet-pop-kjrp

Do you really think I'm a spy? And y'know, I've been using my crutch long enough I think I'd know if I were usin' it wrong.

(Bullet simply stares, brows furrowed)

Dammit… yeah that sounds like him. Did he say where he was going?

ratchet-spanner

just stupid then? got it. yer meant to be holding it with yer other hand . . . so yer not puttin' weight on yer bad leg. and i don't doubt that you've been usin' a crutch for a long while . . . seems like it's made whatever yer injury is much worse since yer doing it wrong.

(he huffs, shaking his head in response)

nope. i'm not the kinda guy t' question people . . . 's none of my business. besides, i kicked 'em out before he could ramble on for much longer. but by the sounds of it, i'd assume he went far out to get into some fight . . . why else would someone ask for so many impossible alterations on their gun? . . . unless . . . that's just the way yer brother is . . . in which case i'd suggest keepin' 'em on a tighter leash.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He simply rolls his eyes, not necessarily ignoring the advice but clearly not caring much. Regardless he hands over the carbons for the cane)

He's stupid, like I said. Couldn't keep him on a “tighter leash” even if I wanted to. Guess l'll just have to wait for him to show back up.. not that uncommon for him to run off for a bit.

(They start to leave, limp more noticeable before his leg simply gives out from under him—the cane clattering to the floor beside him. They don't bother getting up, waiting for an “I told ya so”)

ratchet-spanner

(he pockets the carbons, simply sighing tiredly in response to the eye roll. he begins to make his way back over to the counter)

'm pretty sure we both know that if ya tired hard enough, ya could. out here, it's important to protect the people that ya love. most killjoys die young . . . and i wouldn't want yer brother to be part of that statistic.

(he watches the other collapse to the floor, unfazed. he blinks slowly, silent as he turns his attention back to the counter in front of him)

ya really should listen to me, kid. i've been a 'joy longer than you've been alive . . . maybe ya just need some encouragement to listen to this old man, eh? . . . i'll tell ya what, if you can out-drink me, i'll let ya have that cane for free, and i'll leave ya alone. but if i win, you gotta start listenin' to me. wha'd'ya say?

bullet-pop-kjrp

And you think I want that for him? He's too stubborn to be stopped.. once he wants to do something he's gonna do it.

(He slowly stands, wincing faintly)

A drinking competition? Hm . . . Y'know what, sure. I'll take your offer. What're we drinkin'?

ratchet-spanner

seems to me like yer not tryin' hard enough . . . y'seem like a bit of a quitter, kid.

(he reaches for something below the counter, coming up with an unopened bottle of whiskey and two very nice glasses. he pours a generous amount into both the cups)

only my favourite. got this one in from the city . . . made for the people who live in the slums - stronger, than normal. the kinda shit that makes y'forget who you are for a week after. ya in, kid?

bullet-pop-kjrp

What the hell are you sayin'? That I don't have the guts to finish something? You don't even know me.

(He grimaces, watching closely as the drinks are poured. In truth, he's waiting for Ratchet to drink his own first)

I already said I'm in, old man, 'cause I'm no quitter.

ratchet-spanner

what i'm sayin', kiddo, is that i think yer scared. and 'm not jus' talkin' about the alcohol in front of us.

(he picks up his own glass, holding it up for a moment)

cheers.

bullet-pop-kjrp

Only thing I'm scared of is losin'—

(He downs his in one go, then clanks his glass against the other—his expression twisting slightly at the burn)

—and I don't plan on losin' this. Cheers. I need a refill.

ratchet-spanner

exactly. yer scared of losin'. that's why ya don't try.

(he huffs out a sort of laugh through his nose, a faint smile on his face. he happily gulps down his own glass before refilling both of them. he takes a swig once again)

ah . . . that's the stuff. better than all this zone brewed shit . . . i gotta hand it to ya, you 'nd yer brother are one in the same . . . yer both full of yerselves.

bullet-pop-kjrp

(He just huffs, staring like he wants to explode the guy's head with his mind. As soon as his glass is refilled he chugs it down again and wipes his mouth with his sleeve, pushing the glass forward slightly for another refill)

I ain't full of myself. I know I'm no better than the next killjoy.

(They laugh under their breath)

But I know I can hold my alcohol. Fill it to the top this time. And you hardly know my brother, so don't talk about him like ya do.

ratchet-spanner

seems like ya like to say one thing then do another . . . yer no better than the next killjoy, eh? i don't believe that. yer the type 'f person to think they're better than everyone else . . . 'cause yer a coward. the sooner you admit it, the better.

(he offers a lopsided grin at the others cockiness. he does as they say, filling both the glasses to the top now. spanner seems relatively unchanged as he watches the other become more and more shitfaced. he finishes his glass once more)

yer right, i hardly know yer brother. but if i were you, i wouldn't spend my time here tryin' t' out-drink an old man . . . i'd be out lookin' for him. seems a bit selfish to me, eh?

bullet-pop-kjrp

I'm not a coward.

(He smiles back, downing his glass. They sway ever so slightly despite bracing themself on the counter)

An' now ya call me selfish? Is callin' me a coward and full of myself not good enough for you? He'll be fine.. always is. He's got the endurance of a damn cockroach. What drink was that? Three? I bet I can make it t' eight.

ratchet-spanner

(he hums, pouring the two of them another drink)

i'm jus' observing what i'm seein' . . . he'll be fine, eh? famous last words . . . let me ask you this: if you were the one missin', would he be out lookin' for ya right now? or would be also tryna out-drink an old man? 'cause i bet my finest coat he'd be out searchin' to the ends of the earth . . . but what do i know? i don't know either of ya, eh? if y'can make it t' eight, i'll give ya all the carbons i have to my name.

bullet-pop-kjrp

. . . Shut up, old man. You don' know us. Hell, jus' this time I stayed cooped up for days and he didn't visit 'til recently. We trust each other t' stay alive.

(He downs it again, this time giggling quietly)

Yer “stronger stuff” ain't that much stronger than th' stuff I drink at zone bars. Maybe two in one, but nothin' more. And I think 'm about to have some more carbons.

ratchet-spanner

hm . . . yer jus' full of excuses, aren't ya? well, if that brother of yer's ends up dusted, i told ya so.

(he watches in amusement. this competition might be easier than he initially thought. he pours yet another round for the two of them)

yer all bark and no bite, y'know that? i thought you were tougher than this . . . didn't know you were such a lightweight, kid.

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