#fexrbound

"Nnnnnngggh! Curse this space traffic!! I won't be able to reach Super Space Sweety Sweets before they close!!" His frustrated gaze soon falls upon the other.

     Damp air brushed the back of his neck, and his shoulders shifted as if that could force the fabric of his sweater higher. Tsking sharply, he shrugged again irritably. If Ichy didn't get the window closed he'd have to do it himself, before realizing what the open skylight meant.

"You finally come 'round to the idea of sharin' how that ring of yours works, Sin?' An appropriate name honestly, lips twitching briefly. "Think we could have a bit of fun the two of us, if only you weren't so damned stingy.'

     Wrath coloured, pride coded, Jonathan's eyes flicked up to the bit of reflective glass he placed there for that very reason. A lack of fear did not mean a lack of self preservation. The alien always looked so well put together, sleek as the feline he could act like. Finicky, stand offish, holier than thou...

"There's leftovers in the fridge, Ms. Santos made too much for Harvey and his boys.' Pretty sure that was a lie. "It's spicy, don't know if you're equipped to handle it with that clever tongue of yours. The forked nature might expose a different set of buds.'

@fexrbound has been invited to tourney

Her fear was a rare delicacy. Deeply layered and aged several times over. There was of course that surface fear any reasonable person would feel, being trapped in a green bubble, left to float and forced to witness a scene of what she would describe as grotesque violence. Mona wasn't yet used to the carnage of superheroism, this was like her watching some random person being beaten to death. It was a distressing scene.

But then... There was a deeper fear, the roots go all the way down on that one, weaved into every thread of her DNA. Black threads, weaving through generations, she'd likely never gone a day of her life without it. And yet, here she was. She handled her distressed in a way that can only be achieved from years of training and discipline, and she was a consummate professional.

Literally, she was. I am what they have made of me, this gave her pause. Wasn't that the story of her life? "I understand that, and that you are all adversaries but... It's not fair to be punished for something you didn't even do."

She was clearly a little nervous, watching him standing unsteadily. Mona knew better than to ask him to sit down, but she did slowly remove her black coat, and though needing to float off the ground, she draped it around his shoulders. It was a couple sizes smaller, and not his style, but it was warm, and smelled like frankincense. A futile gesture, maybe. But a well-intentioned one. She ignored the shock and horror of the Green Lanterns, for now. "Do you need me to administer a concussion test? I-I'm first aid certified." He could hear the distress bubbling up a bit in her voice, this was the point one would usually call an ambulance.

@fexrbound

God, she hates when she gets these feelings. That badsomethingiswronggocheckitoutGO tugging sensation in her gut that just won’t let up no matter how much she tries to ignore it. The feeling that only gets stronger, grows more and more insistent the longer she stays in bed, until it’s physically painful. Groaning in frustration and annoyance, she throws the covers off and resigns herself to yet another sleepless night. Puts on some clean sweats, grabs her keys, and tells Stanley not to wait up, as she walks out the door.

She follows the feeling, that instinctive sense of direction, through the streets to an alley. Fucking fantastic. It’s dark, the street lamp at the mouth of the alley mostly burnt out and flickering ominously. Cloaked in shadows, filled with garbage, and totally not sketchy at all.

Definitely a place Max wants to be right now.

Taking a steadying breath—somehow, her anxiety, her fear, feels thicker here, more suffocating—she forces her feet to move. To carry her further into the darkness until she comes across a figure. They’re hunched over, back turned (always a great sign), and she has to resist the urge to just say ‘nope’, turn tail, and go back to her warm, safe bed.

“Hey,” she says softly, trying not to startle them. Trying not to sound as scared as she feels. Reaches out one trembling hand to touch their shoulder. “Hey, are you—” The second she makes contact, she freezes, her body going rigid. Eyes wide, scarcely breathing—the terror is all-consuming, like this.

And Max can’t pull away.

The cape whipped around in winds of the planet as he sat at the edge of a building, looking out at the structures that might have been similar to what Krypton once held. It felt stranger still that the death of the planet he'd come from wasn't even all that long ago. Yet hardly anything remained of it.

Clark dropped for a moment as he pushed off of the building, before he was lightly floating down towards the ground.

"Oh, shut up and sit back down."

Her hands go to his shoulders and she very bodily pushes him back down to a sitting position. Considering his injury, she doesn't think he has much fire to fight back currently. She's in no mood for his crankiness.

"It needs stitches, and you are going to sit there and let me do them, because I don't want you to bleed out all over my floor."