#baeflame

@baeflame cont. from here

~ Waterboy feels the urge to CURL AWAY into himself when Flambae leans in, leans close. A innate need to backdown, to smooth over confrontation, climbing up his throat. A need to avoid it. But for once he forces it down. Swallows it. Herman refusing to take a backstep or LOWER his gaze - and if the merest flinched leave him, well....he could except that, right? Anything that didn't send him tucking himself into the broom closet...he could call that a win.

The heat of Flambae's physical presence felt STRANGE against his skin. Like the air against him got heavier. Pressing in the c l o s e r the other man got. Herman's cheeks feeling prickly and WARM and...dryer than he could remember them being in a while. Steam in faint wisps between them.

At the small tirade about...well..about how much he sucked...fingers fidgeted in response. Feeling a subtle twist in his stomach, a familiar sensation when caught under the SNIPES and jabs from most of the people he found himself around.

Despite how he always meant well, how much he WANTED to help, it always ended up that way. He had spent most of his life skirting around the borders of other peoples personal BUBBLES. Not wanting to upset others - an unfortunate byproduct of his abilities. Getting everything wet tended to irritate people. Herman knew even his grandmother, with her PLASTIC sheeting on....on everything.... had found it exhausting, even if she denied it.

Its had always been that way. With all accept Robert that is....Robert had always been nice to him. Friendly in a way others had never been - didn't judge his...well...his weirdness. It was confusing. But NICE.

' You're mean to me because....you think I can take it? ' Frowning in confusion slightly, Waterboy's blue eyes looked Flambae over curiously. Hand coming up to rub the back of his own neck. Rubbery suit SQUEAKING and creaking audibly.

' That...but you....that doesn't make any sense. I could throw a CHAIR at you because you can take it, but I...I don't do it because it's mean and you didn't so anything to deserve it. ' ~

He still had to be here for another couple of hours and it was really starting to grate on his nerves. The suit felt suffocating in spite of how well tailored it was. Too expensive, too much like a costume. Terry felt like he was wearing someone else's skin and he still had a few days to go before he could fly back to Gotham and breathe.

Bruce had already said they were likely going to seal the deal. Some sort of liaison program between Batman Inc and SDN, specifically in support of its novel Phoenix Program. Terry was looking at visiting at least once a month. He was already dreading it.

It was too much corporate bullshit for him. Despite taking on business endeavors in Wayne Enterprises, and previously Wayne-Powers in his own timeline, Terry couldn't stomach the way SDN worked. It was one thing knowing Wayne personally and all the programs he put together to help the disenfranchised of Gotham, it was another walking into SDNs bullpen to stare at a leader board ranking heroes who would otherwise lose their jobs.

Terry wasn't sure how that was supposed to help anyone, but he didn't make the decisions here. Wayne had said he didn't like everything he'd heard, but the pros outweighed the cons. And he wasn't exactly wrong. Robertson seemed like a good enough guy with the right kind of personality to keep the team moving in the right direction. It could work.

Terry just hated everything else: the office bullpen that seemed to want to close in on him, the subscription model that made him grit his teeth, the waste of time callers on PR crap and holding lines.

It made him wonder if any of them could handle the weekly shit show that was Gotham's rogues gallery but none of that mattered. It worked in Torrance. They weren't in Gotham. They had their fair share of freaks and weirdos. Terry just had to make nice, keep his opinions to himself and wish for the hours to go by faster.

So, it was with this sour mood that he strolled into the break room feeling stupid and out of place. He stared dismally at the vending machine slipping a bill into the slot as he keyed in the code for a bag of potato chips. The rings moved sluggishly and the bag twisted... And remained stuck.

bite me! prompts

"Speak for yourself, the fuck do you eat?" Whether that had anything to do with the man's control over fire and flame remained to be seen, but Miguel had meant every word uttered. A foul taste had flooded his palate the instant he'd cinched in a firm hold, clamping his jaw completely around the same limb that sought to scorch his head, burn it to a crisp, only to pull back when comforted by flame.

"I've had menudo that tasted better than you do." Regretting his decision, voice sporting the dull traces of an accent, a vague attempt is made to purge the rancid flavour from his mouth. Including a not-so-subtle effort to clean off the traces of blood still sticking to his fangs by rubbing the heel of his hand against them, eyes carefully watching the other as he did so. Where did he get off acting this way towards him, anyway? Descending from the sky like a blazing meteorite to bust up the meeting he was in the middle of hosting with some Red Ring contacts? Didn't they used to be on the same side!?

Thoughts sticking on this latest point, a dark cast subtly slipped over his visage as time wore on, crimson gaze waxing with a hostility that seemed to suggest he'd let the now so-called hero off lightly, instead of inflicting more lasting damage.

The worst part of all this isn't how perfectly curated Flambae's effortless image is: It's the fact that Robert is glad he's the one who had been standing at the door, not a heartbroken spiteful Courtney glowering at him with wet eyes and desperation.

It's a second chance, after Robert fessed up and admitted that, hey, he's the one responsible for altering the goddamn trajectory of Flambae's life. (Flambae would probably have choice words about that, like telling him off for taking way too much credit.)

"There's still, uhh..." - Robert looks over his shoulder, checking the counter - "Still plenty of beer. You want one? I've been trying to give myself whiskey dick this whole time." There it is, his response to Flambae's stupid-ass challenge: Why, yes, Flambae, Robert totally struggles with both erectile dysfunction and premature ejaculation, your command of medical literature and diagnoses is so beeg and stwong...!

“Oh, man, I am real freakin’ sorry that I’m not good at making everything into some kinda lame joke like you. I got a lot to learn about being a resentful burnout, I guess.”

Feral is right. Even as he’s just turning to face her, Xue’s standing there with her fists clenched like she might just take a swing at him to set the tone. Their spats haven’t even been that bad, as they go - Discyple’s an eager new “hero” and has been leading with her face in every fight she’s gotten into on SDN’s behalf. It’s not hard to imagine why they would want her showing up on the company’s say-so.

It’s also pretty easy to surmise why she isn’t a good fit for the more traditional teams at SDN Torrance. The kid gets in deep. She chases people down, she stays in as long as she can, and, on occasion, the staunch refusal to end on a loss has rendered her almost as much a threat to herself as to the “bad guys”. Someone with more experience would know to pace themselves, but, like a young viper dumping its entire supply of venom into a single bite because it hasn’t yet learned to regulate, it seems the only amount of effort Xue knows how to put in is “all of it”.

Good for missions. Less great for workplace disputes.

“Maybe that’s just a thing you do, but I told you I don’t like it. I told you like four times.” Two, ish, but who’s counting.

“So if that’s really just what you do, and you’re not gonna stop even though you know I hate it? Fine. Whatever, I guess.” Very not whatever! Her hands are trembling from how hard she’s clenching her fists, muscle and tendon sticking out in her forearm from the work she’s putting in to keep this “civil”. “But if you keep freakin’ making fun of me for wanting to do good stuff, like we’re all supposed to be here to do, I’m gonna give you a hands-on demonstration of the stuff that I just do. You’re gonna look like you ran through traffic. Got it?”