ʀᴏʙ ᴍᴇ ʙʟɪɴᴅ

It’s Proton. It could be anything. As it is, the man’s just ruined a perfectly good jacket that he doesn’t have the money to replace, which sends tinges of irritation shooting through him, though nothing strong enough to warrant actually acting on such feelings. Still, he’s got the faintest of aches in the back of his mind that, perhaps, something is –

<<Not by choice.>> Which is, well, obvious. He realizes he’s backing up a few steps, away from the other, and has to consciously stop himself. 

You still have the gun.

<<Then, does that mean our boss is still here?>> He doesn’t want to wonder aloud about Elijah, not to this guy.

That would have already been established, but the sight of those features just spark the already hissing match on the dynamite that is his temper. While he does know, somewhere in the back of his head, that this was not exactly Meredith’s fault, that won’t quench the flames in the slightest.

It was still his visage he had to look at, still his voice saying those things that cause his fingers to tighten in now wrinkled fabric upon remembering them.The answer he gets causes his eye to twitch in the slightest, but the backing up is incredibly satisfying. After all, he likes it when they run.

“Aw, ain’t that just a shame. I hope you weren’t getting too comfy before you got the warm return!” There was most certainly warm about it, and there’s nothing warm in the way Proton meets the increased distance with a few closer steps of his own.

     ❝Then what are you waiting for?❞ Coy was this encouragement the redhead presented, an about-face conducted on the heel of a glistening sole as again towards the bed he traipsed. Though rather than to indulge Proton in the merits of his attentions, it was an article previously shed to the carpeting in haste the evening prior that garnered his interest. Rifling but briefly through the other man’s discarded pocket, his prize was soon showcased in the form of a glistening golden watch– a pleasant acquisition of frivolous misdemeanors gone by.

     ❝You don’t mind, hm?❞ The inquiry could scarcely be called a courtesy, as the accessory was already fastened on his wrist by the time of its utterance. ❝I don’t plan on walking away with it. Though of course, I wouldn’t dream of protesting your company to keep an eye on such a valuable asset.❞ Sarcasm abounded, as did the gilded wrist towards Proton’s face, fingertips taking the other’s chin for a moment which was entirely taunting in its fleeting grace. So accompanying the turn of Roman’s back in favor of the closet was one word uttered to encourage.

“I could, but looks like you could really give less of a shit!” Palms flat, shoulders shrug, all declaring how little he cares about the other filching a simple piece of jewelry. Anybody else, maybe, but there was a special exception for Roman for a multitude of reasons. “You flatter me too much, you know, you’re gonna make me blush.”

He leans the slightest bit into the fingers on his skin, the ones that escape barely a second later, earning a scoff to accompany the order. 

“If you insist.”

And then he’s up, pace brisk and hardly pausing a second before he throws open the wooden doors that reveal a rather long row of clothes in varying warm shades. Sweaters, shirts both long and short-sleeved, a couple R printed uniforms-- they’re all cast to the further side before he pulls out one piece in black. It’s all there, the making of a proper suit, but it looks like it hasn’t been worn. Not surprising, considering the man who owns it, who simply plucks one part and tosses the rest haphazardly on the dresser.

@rocqet

He’s not lost. No, he can’t be lost, because he never gets lost. Elijah is the one who gets lost without him present, so of course…

…He’s lost. Muted by his own stupidity, he clenches and unclenches his fists, inhales sharply, and continues walking. Wherever he is in Hive City, it’s not the most pleasant of locations and, in the dark, looks twice as wretched and rundown. It’s probably the third sector, but given that he’s no idea where he was even dropped this time around, Meredith can’t say for sure.

At least he still has the gun he won last time – there’ll be no repeats of the mugging incident, although quite frankly he would prefer not to have to even brandish the thing as a threat. Still, it’s a small comfort, when he finds himself passing questionable bars and buildings and even more questionable people on the streets. No one has approached him yet, though, so he’s grateful for that tiny bit of comfort.

That, however, vanishes when he finds his vision – and lungs – obscured by smoke, obviously blown by some inconsiderate – 

His hacking cough obscures and distorts his voice, but with great difficulty he gets out the necessary identifier, all with the added bonus of getting some air back into his chest.

It’s a bit odd not having a familiar face around to enjoy the bittersweet taste of nicotine with, but as disappointed as he was, he’d live. He had more important things to worry about-- like getting back to work and enjoying himself. Maybe a drink was in order, after most of this cigarette had been reduced to ash.

All plans go awry in the end, of course. He catches a glimpse of a face that strikes a chord, and a few distasteful memories rocket to the surface like a volcanic eruption. There’s that pretty visage, the cold look plastered in those eyes, and finally the metal pressed to his head--

The rest is history, and hardly history that deserved to be repeated.

His posture on the walls straightens. Green eyes are focused like a hawk, watching as the other man wanders like a lost animal. He’s getting closer, closer, and finally pale digits wrap around the stick in his lips and yanks it loose, the opportune time to exhale wispy smoke and end up casting it into Meredith’s lungs.

The grin that slides across his face is the usual-- smug and overall unpleasant, but there’s something else there, not discernible. Not yet, anyway.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in by the hair.”

Then, he reaches; fingers abruptly digging into the other’s lapel and holding fast, just enough for him to raise the opposite hand and promptly stub out his cigarette.

Where? On a previously clean shirt, of course.

      ❝What’s life without a little risk, hm? I’m fortunate you find it such a fetching look on me.❞ By now olive hues had again returned to his reflection, the likes of a tie strung about his collar and pending placement whilst he spoke to the other’s next complaint.

      ❝Oh dear. I wouldn’t want you to take it personally.❞ Perish the thought! Not, of course, that sincerity marked the man’s tone at any point. Proton’s ego was not so delicate as to be fractured by something as minute as the lack of an invitation. Though this was soon to be rectified, doubt impeding upon the offer and challenge put forth.

It’s perhaps a bit bold, but the sly smirk it’s said with is laden to the brim with mockery of the unpleasant persuasion. He’ll take any chance he can to open his mouth in whatever way he damn well pleases, genuine or not (although genuine is hardly a thing when it comes to the rocket executive in question).

He actually bothers to straighten himself up at the jab, subtly untangling himself as he continues to gaze at the other man from the corner of his eye. He snorts at the nickname tacked on, a comment which would usually garner disgust from any other person. It’s amazing what one can tolerate from somebody they prefer in more terms than simple company.

“I’d sure hope not, that’d just break my heart!”

Both feet are now on the floor, but not for long, as they’re soon crossed casually as he pushes green hair behind one ear with a clearly challenging look scrawled on his features.

      A tousle to damp and fiery locks at first greeted the inquiry which arose from his companion. And, amidst the pool of steam which had sallied forth from the door to the adjacent shower, Roman spoke shortly to acknowledge the impatience of his partner in crime.

      ❝Why, I’m going out– obviously. As if I’d do Officer Jayden the pleasure of letting a little arrest warrant rob me of my social life.❞ Distinctly mocking was the tone the criminal put forth as he took his place before the bedroom’s full-length mirror, fingertips deftly securing a row of buttons. It was only pending the accomplishment of this task that to the Rocket’s reflection he paid any regard, in the face of the glass catching sight of the other ensnared in a messy tangle of sheets. All things considered, it was a wonder to Roman he had managed to gain any semblance of consciousness at all to question his intent. And though it did occasionally wound him to humor Proton, the redhead complied (perhaps against his better judgment).

      ❝I take it you don’t have a problem with that?❞

Why wouldn’t he? After all, employer or not, the other man is still going in and out of his house, and it might be nice to know whether or not he might have to prepare for another text message about arrest and detainment. A hand lazily pushes bedraggled hair out of his face, leaning back on one hand on a tousled bedspread to roll his eyes with a scoff.

“That’s fucking charming to know the threat of that hot orange jumpsuit won’t deter you from some fun. Makes my heart beat a little faster.” The sarcasm is heavy and thick, as it simply wouldn’t be Proton if it wasn’t. 

“But no, no. No problem at all.” He leans forward the slightest, cheek resting heavily in palm as bright green eyes carefully watch the goings-on in the mirror much like his companion. It’s a little distracting, but he does eventually bring them up to catch the reflected gaze with a raise of the eyebrow.

      A chin finds itself perched in a foreign hand as Roman listens to the excuses Proton burst forth with. Of course, there was no lie to be had behind his words– however they managed to inspire a scoff of annoyance just the same. There was no need to draw out what was a set of irksome circumstances traded over from the Rocket’s mind to his own; this mute comprehension instead lending Roman some modicum of silence whilst the other spoke to his observations made out in the real world.

      ❝It’s amazing what fear can do to people, hm?❞ This time some degree of humor did cling to the kingpin’s tone, the slightest of smirks a familiar sight cloven across Proton’s features. However, short of being malicious, the expression itself appeared subtle and telling of the man’s experience with such trite adaptations of man. For fear was inspiring in itself– providing reins by which to bridle those who fell victim to it.

      ❝Then again, you’d know all about that, now wouldn’t you?❞ Distinctly taunting arose these words from Roman’s lips, straight-backed posture bent ever slightly nor unlike a willow beneath a fierce gale to shorten the gap which separated them. Yet, rather than greet the other man’s gaze, it was in the course of this playful closeness that a hand served to claim the cigarette enroute to return to the man’s lips, content to take his own draft in the meanwhile. What a feeling it was, to live beyond the wanton lust for tobacco on his tongue… But old habits die hard.

      ❝And what would you recommend I say?❞ Loftily now was this remark placed alongside a thin stream of smoke parted from split lips. There could be little doubt in any onlooker’s mind that this was a test, his remarks just short of facetiousness.❝You are the boss now, aren’t you?❞

「 The scoff earns little more than a sharp glare, but it’s quickly wiped away within a few seconds. Regardless of the reaction, there’s nothing he can do to change the other’s attitude towards his newfound position, so accepting it with a sharp tongue was simply the full extent of his ability to deal with it. He’d rather not argue a point, since it rarely ended well, even if he was the one with the advantage at this point. Considering he could still remember the feeling of a cane striking cheek, it was a precaution. 」

Hah! No kidding. Not much better than the shit they pull when they’re terrified. 

「 Spoken like a true felon. The humor isn’t lost, and it’s clear both of them enjoy the feeling of inducing fear, although the younger perhaps a little too much. After all, people being scared of you meant you were obviously worth the terror, and that was satisfying in itself. He would have loved to fuck around while he was out and about, but unfortunately, a body on loan with reigns left little room to play around in.

For the most part, anyway. 

A sharp reminder curls his lips into a scowl, especially coupled with the smug tone that usually came out of his own mouth, moments of unfortunate circumstances rising to mind. No, he didn’t rather fancy those, and he would rather not have a remake. His own posture straightens somewhat in anticipation for the other’s movement, and quirks a brow once the smoke is freed from his grip and transferred to the slender fingers of another. 」

Can’t really argue with that. Not like it’s worth it.

「 He watches intently the inhale of smoke that comes from his stolen item being placed between familiar lips, looking up to lock gazes after mere seconds with a small ‘hm’ accompanying it. 」 

Should I be glad you’re being generous and sharing? Since cigars don’t really go with my pretty face.

「 It’s a taunt and a test, and does he ever know it. It’s a familiar scene, familiar switch, the only thing that’s changed is the mindsets to go with it. Proton allows a few more moments of silence before he smirks and settles back, leaning into the chair with a dismissive shrug. 」

Oh, it’s so tempting. Buuut, I think I’ve had enough of being the boss for one day.

I think it suits you a lot better than me, after all.

      Distaste flooded features which were Proton’s own at his words, posture shifted only slightly where he sat and observed the familiar form adorn a seat nearby. The rocket did have one sure point; that this state of being was indefinite. It could be a week, or a month…who could safely say? But already Roman was growing weary of the limited range of motion he was permitted by pain, a scowl falling to his features at the jibe.

      ❝Implying I have any other choice?❞ Waspishly administered was this retort; although the insult did bolster the man’s resolve to rise to his feet, features frozen in a state of ire stubbornly denying what introduction the accompanying stab of pain thought to pass off to his countenance. Yet, with this in mind, his state of standing was short-lived, the gap between the pair bridged as upon the arm of the chair Roman perched. Here he relished the ability to look down upon his companion (in spite of the grievous efforts taken to get there), bottle green eyes sharp with a hidden warning masked by the cool facade he now adopted.

      ❝Don’t tell me you’ve neglected to recall just who is at fault for the sickening state of your own body?❞ Reckless, irresponsible, and without regret was the way Proton operated– a trifecta for which Roman was now paying the consequences. And he wouldn’t permit Proton forget it either…

      ❝We’re not the only ones out of our skin…❞ This next point Roman presented methodically as he reclined upon the arm where he sat, making partial use of the backrest they split. He didn’t need to leave the apartment to know this was the case– common sense told him that much. But be that as it may, many an opportunity was he throwing away on account of Proton’s apparent inability to avoid an ass-kicking.

      ❝I want you to ask Tune keep an eye on the situation… It’s the next best thing to a first-hand account I’ll get like this.❞ Some irritability Roman still retained in his tone. However, civility he maintained alongside these musings before light eyes again fell upon the shock of red hair poised just beneath him. ❝I do so hope you intend to make this up to me. You of all people should know by now the consequences of misconduct.❞

「 It’s odd seeing your face contort without doing it yourself, hear your own voice speak words you’re not, and everything in between. Not that it’s necessarily a bad thing: perhaps it would be worse if it was a stranger sitting around in his body. It’s rather evident the other isn’t too happy with his newfound appearance, though. Another scoff slips from the criminal’s lips, eyes now latched on the other’s approach. 」

Come on, it’s not like I asked for this. I’m sure you’ve dealt with worse, anyway.

「 Well guised distaste is what prompts him to turn his eyes once the familiar form perches on the arm of the chair, a position he’d usually be in on a normal day. One glimpse and he can already feel the burning gaze of his employer’s displeasure, nimble fingers instead reaching forward to accompany his body as he grabs a pack of cigarettes off the table. He doesn’t even have it in his lips when the jab hits, and what resembles a heavy groan is the first response. 」

I don’t exactly walk into places and say ‘hey! beat the shit out of me!’, just to let you know. Not my fault it happens. I didn’t exactly like dealing with it either.

「 Defeat is inevitable, as it almost always is. A gloved thumb sparks the lighter he pulls from his pocket, and in the next moment the acrid taste of nicotine fills his lungs and helps the slightest bit to take the edge off the day. Business is important, a begrudgingly acknowledged fact, and a plume of smoke is first exhaled before he permits an answer. 」

I noticed. It’s fucking stupid out there. Anybody acts disoriented or sick, they get fucking jumped like wild animals. Quarantine or some shit like that.

「 They both were good actors, and easily adaptable for the most part, a blessing in disguise with the fear and disorientation outside. Fingers idly twiddle with the stick in his fingers, disbelief flickering at the finishing sentence that accompanies the request. 」 

Yeah, yeah....don’t worry, I know the drill by now. Not like either of us planned this shitshow. but if you insist.

「 One more twirl, and he slides his eyes back up to lock with viridian hues, head tilting slightly to accommodate the angle of his slightly hunched posture. 」

      The creak of the door was the very thing which did alert him to the other man’s return, not to mention the additional slam which was soon to follow suit. So in silence did Roman remain poised in a position of ease lounged upon the other’s couch. Of course, although “ease” he did become entirely in terms of outward appearance, wracked with agony were limbs at present folded one upon the other. So legs crossed and arms sealed over his chest did sharp eyes fall upon the entryway where a familiar face would soon greet the light (the term “familiar” by no means an exaggeration).

      ❝You’re early.❞ This remark came alongside the uniquely stern air which could only accompany the distasteful observation of a one Roman Torchwick. However, it did not naturally grace the lips which were no longer absolute strangers to him. In the time it had taken for Proton to play his role, a sleepless afternoon had worn well into evening for the kingpin at present bed or couch-ridden with agony. Not to say that it was his idea of a good time. He much rather would have preferred to shadow the other man’s steps, intent to keep him a toe in line with the immaculate image the redhead had amassed for himself. The scientists on the other hand…appeared to have other plans in mind.

      ❝Did you enjoy yourself?❞ Next came a comment a bit more suited to the rocket’s stolen features in the form of a sneer. As, capable although he had concluded the other man would be of the mission at hand, exceedingly irritated had Torchwick become during the course of a day bridled by injury. Bruised ribs in the process of their mending left him breathless just to stand, even this current state of inaction accompanied by the dull sensation of something burning or singing with pain. What it was, he’d ceased to wonder, olive eyes now solely focused upon those which were likewise as he awaited the affirmation he expected to hear.

      rocqet

「 Despite the love of authority and the feeling of power, there was a reason he relented to following other people: running things was exhausting, and this was simply a core example. He was content to simply do what he wanted without worrying about using up his time day-in day-out. He was never truly expecting to end up with the sort of responsibility he just did, and his displeasure is clearly echoed in the way the door slams behind him, steps heavier than usual as he tugs at his throat with a clearly distasteful sigh.

This is far too heavy for his tastes.  」

If you wanna call it that.

「 Early. Pfft. Call him lazy, but when it came down to it, he was actually rather good at work. He had only gone through it so fast because he was eager to leave, despite the rather smug satisfaction that came with people clearly looking to him as the higher power. He tugs the kerchief around his neck off with a messy movement and drops into the closest chair, hat already off and dangling off a finger. Unbefitting of that face, truly, but he leans back and crosses his legs as he directs his gaze towards his own features. What a goddamned trip.

Oh, heaps. I had a fucking party. You should’ve been there. Too bad you’re busy hugging the couch, huh?

「  It’s probably a little bold, but that’s what he’s been feeling all day: Less inhibited, less restricted. Especially with the absence of his injuries which kept him in an unpleasant painful limbo, being shoved onto his employer instead. He’s already straightening up to unbotton his (his? hah) coat, making a clearly unhappy noise in the process.   」

      Just because Mary hung out in mirrors didn’t mean that spying was her thing. Sure, it made sneaking up on people easy under the right circumstances, but she was more of a go big or go home kind of girl. Grand entrances were her thing, just ask anyone she knew back in Fabletown. So when she just so happened to stumble upon some guy with some uh… interesting pets, it frustrated her more than anything. And she thought that she’d just about seen it all.

      “I’ve seen some ugly dogs, but I think those take the cake,” a confident grin turned her lips up as she crossed her arms. “I mean, purple? When was the last time you took those things to see a vet? I can honestly say that I’ve seen prettier gremlins.”

「 Proton has already displayed how little patience he had for stupid questions, and he had even less for annoying strangers. Carrying his Pokemon around tends to result in both, unfortunately. The automatic response when someone unknown decides to comment is an unpleasant look, and this time is no exception. A slim eyebrow arches as he stares the speaker down, weight shifting to one foot. 」

Should be more concerned over the fact you apparently think these things even vaguely resemble a fucking dog. No offense, sweetheart, but you might want to invest in some glasses.

「 He waves a hand at one, the one with wings, which lets out a screech as per usual. It then opts to perch on his arm, eyeless head directed straight at the other individual. 」

What position does your character sleep in? ( i.e; stomach, side, back, etc. ) Describe why they do this – optional.

Does your character have any noteworthy features? Freckles? Dimples? A scar somewhere unusual? etc.

Does your character have an accent? What does it sound like?

Do they have any verbal tics? Do they have trouble pronouncing certain words or getting their thoughts across clearly?

What are their chief tension areas? 

If you were to pick one song – and only one song – to describe your character, what would it be and why?

How does your character perceive themselves? Positive? Negative? Neutral?

Are they a quick thinker or do they need time to sort through their thoughts?

Does your character dream or are their nights filled with an empty blackness? Describe a dream they’ve had or a night they couldn’t sleep and what they did to preoccupy their time.

If they had a choice, would they prefer a subway or a bus for public transportation?

What do they think of creation? Do they believe in evolution or do they believe in God? What is their religion like?

Describe 5 unusual characteristics your muse has.

Have they ever been so overwhelmed they had to stop and take a break from something? 

Are they a team player or do they prefer to be solo?

Can they multi-task or must they focus on one subject at a time?

What are their best school subjects? What are their worst? List five of each.

Is your character an introvert or an extrovert? How do they handle big crowds of people?

Are they a leader, do they prefer to follow, or would they rather just stay on the sidelines altogether?

If your character was suddenly challenged, would they rather run away or stay and fight?

If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would that person be and why?

Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why?

Does your character trust people right off the bat or does it take them some time to warm up to someone?

Do they prefer romance or affection? What is the quickest way to your character’s heart?

Does your character have any enemies? If so, who and why?

Do they have any weird bedroom habits? Any unusual kinks?

How does your character prepare for bed? Do they sleep at all or can they stay awake for days on end without trouble?

If your character had one thing to say to their parents before they died, what would it be?

Are they afraid of death? Do they have any regrets?

Does your character get restless when things are too quiet or do they favour solitude and silence? Why?