#holylcst

flirty starters | @holylcst​ said: “Can I keep you?”

Truth be told, by this point he had kind of gotten used to Panty’s way of speaking. She almost constantly said crude or flirty things, and that didn’t necessarily mean anything -- because most of the time she was just kidding. Considering the fact that they had gotten off to a rocky start when they first met, too? Yeah, safe to say he didn’t assume much most of the time.

But in the dead of night, humming engine of the car slowed to a silent stop, stars overhead? It was surprising enough to hear her speak, break the silence -- much less to hear that. It was...oddly vulnerable sounding, compared to any of the other things she’d so routinely teased him with. He blinks, feels a small flush of pink dust across his cheeks.

“Ah...?” He murmurs, clearing his throat slightly as it wanes between a rumble and a whisper. “I’m here, aren’t I...?” There’s a chuckle to his tone, but gives way to a bit of anxiety -- a pickup in pulse that felt slightly unfamiliar. The kind that says, are you really going to make me catch feelings out in the middle of nowhere at 4 in the morning? To which she’d undoubtedly do as she always did, and take the unexpected route. Damned if you ever expected anything routine from Panty Anarchy, she’d almost certainly make you regret that within seconds.

Not that he’s really complaining, either. It’s part of the reason why, despite how difficult she could be at times, he’s always felt a certain sense of comfort riding alongside her, too. There was a certain familiarity to the unfamiliar now, that had built up the longer he rode shotgun -- a sort of warmth that satisfied his need to roam and to not be alone while doing so.

@holylcst​​ said: “you’re going to get yourself hurt.” (haha bet you didn’t expect me to answer this 3 months late didja)

It’s almost hilariously cruel that irony would stab him in the back like this. The very same reason he’s always shut people out, repeated back to him by someone he loves, afraid to draw him in beyond an arm’s length. He knows that she worries for him, worries about whether his life would feel well spent beside her, if she dares whisk him along. Outside of this place, this plane of existence, really. Her home, it’s not in Heaven or Hell, right? But not here, not in the regular world. 

And he knows, he knows she’s only worried-- knows she only wants what’s best for him. But what about what he wants...? Which may not seem like it’s the best for him, but feels so much more right. What about what she wants...?

He holds her wrist to slow her gestures, holds firmly, but not tightly.

“Panty...I’m like a magnet for getting myself hurt...” He exhales what seems to be half-laugh, that doesn’t quite make it to the humored stage. “...Whether I’m here, there, or anywhere in the world...the possibility is always out there that I’ll get myself hurt...in fact there’s...? No way in the world I could avoid that...” Lifts his spare hand, brushes the hint of moisture that’s been threatening to well near her eyes with his thumb, smile becomes soft.

“...And you, too...you’ve gone through how much...just being here for me, and that’s not to mention all the stuff you do back home...you know I’d never want to see you hurt, but...do I know it could still happen? Sure I do...”

A small inhale, then exhale out. Hand slowly recedes from her wrist as he wraps his arms tightly around her, holds her close.

💣 - She wasn’t the type of arrogant person to think that she’d seen everything there was to know about war. She was sure she’d seen far more than any other teenage girl her age, should - but she would not be the first, nor the last child soldier to be hired. 

Most of her work was done a ways outside the actual battlefield - blood rarely splattered across her black jacket. Despite this, she liked to make sure her traps that she laid out were tripped and had effectively dispatched of whoever it was she’d been paid to kill. She’d long since numbed herself to the gore of evaluating the corpses; as she’d already lived through several occasions where she needed to end their lives of the survivors with her rapier. Some got stuck underneath the rubble. Bomb deaths were always less reliable than demolition safety. What she finds, however, was not what she was expecting. 

There was something stuck underneath the collapsed doorway she’d created, as she could have guessed the minute she detonated her hidden explosive at the first sign of movement. 

But -...what was this? It didn’t look like any remains of human she’d ever seen...some yellow goo that looked like it was more similar to play dough that anything organic. 

Her head gave a sharp turn at the sound of footsteps, despite the fact that she had been previously informed this building should have been empty of all but her target. Dangerous, but not unexpected - as misinformation happened all the time. Still, she could never be too cautious - drawing her rapier towards the figure approaching her - jabbing at the air and cocking her head towards the stranger to pose a question: