#rocqet

      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?❞

      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.

agate: how my muse calms down

John goes through all the normal anxiety exercises during anxiety attacks but he also meditates a lot. Like. A lot. Normally if he’s not out drinking he’s holed up in his room meditating in the middle of the floor

amazonite: what kind of situations call for my muse to be dishonest

He will hide things a lot. Most lies he tells are about himself and his own health; other than that, he lies very little outside of combat and political affairs.

ammolite: how lucky or unlucky my use is

Kinda depends? On one hand he’s the sole survivor of a surprise attack on his squad and one of the galaxy’s most talented soldiers but on the other hand he watched the rest of his squad die and was forced to be the representative for organic life in it’s entirety and make a choice that would effect the entire galaxy when it was completely dependent on the opinions and feelings of just one man

✆ Other than RPing, what's a hobby of yours?

i am into vocaloid but not that much as in a few years ago! I am making several vocaloid covers and stuff since 2012 but have an active account since 2013 :3

♨ What's a muse that you wished had lasted, but didn't?

“Looking for a dog shelter to hide in? Roman’s not around to protect you anymore, y’know? Gotta watch out for yourself...”

He didn’t have time for mercy. Not when it came to finding the person he was looking for before he caused too much damage. Damage that he wouldn’t be able to fix after this was over.

The first thing you needed to know about Adachi was that when he wasn't especially picky about his methods when it came to getting things done. Beneath the goofy exterior of this seemingly buffoonish detective was a man who, while decidedly more morally inclined then his counterpart of months past, was still a ruthless, intelligent schemer who would crush anyone who got in his way without thinking twice. 

So when the Alternate Hive’s militia forces attempted to bring him down, he wasted no time in summoning his Persona and going to town, cutting a bloody path through downtown of Sector Five. Those who ran away were left alone- there was no point in pursing the stragglers, not when he needed to find his alternate as soon as possible. Those who were alive but unable to continuing fighting were left to bleed on the ground, the detective unconcerned with whatever fate came to them, so long as they were no longer his problem to deal with.

And those who continued on fighting and refused to stand down, determined to kill him despite how outmatched they were? 

They made their choice. This was war, after all.

Magatsu-Izanagi tore their ranks apart effortlessly, shooting off lightning spells at those who were huddled together and splitting them apart with Vorpal Blade, leaving them to be cut down by the giant’s blade or taken out from a well placed bullet from Adachi’s revolver. The two of them were a devastating duo, annihilating entire squads at a time while the Persona user took little to no damage from the encounters. It was almost sad, really.

When they were done with latest batch of mooks, Adachi took the time to sit down on a pile of rubble and reload the cylinder of his gun. He might’ve been in a hurry, but he knew that if you let yourself get too carried away in your goals, you might get yourself caught unawares or miss something vitally important. Like the person approching him now

      Dreary was the morn which found the Otherworld; the heavens cloudless, yet from its street-strewn skies drizzled a light mist of rain. Upon this sight the redhead gazed, the length of a thinning curtain drawn back from the window all the better to regard grey streets which now shone silver beneath the lamplight.

He always rose early, the intent to press on to greener pastures the ever-present alarm which woke him reared and readied to set foot out again onto the city’s crowded streets. However, Roman was no fool, the understanding that homelessness was again the threat which would stake his steps not an observation lost to him. So with this in mind...he deserved a little relief before he parted ways without even a word to appease the wonderings of his companion.

The flare of a lighter momentarily illuminated the stretch of wall against which Roman leaned, a palm prone to fumbling (if only in its unfamiliarity with the venue at hand) to push the pane of the window up a few inches. From this partition a stark chill nipped at exposed skin, the likes of a shirt, scarf, and coat articles haphazardly shed the eve prior en-route to the soft down of blankets and pillows to Roman’s back. There he anticipated his company to dwell in indefinite unconsciousness through the distant chorus of honks and shouts which accompanied the early morning traffic below. Yet, as the barest traces of the suns rays had just begun to creep across the windows of adjacent skyscrapers, movement did draw the criminal’s eye to the aforementioned furniture in mild-mannered amusement.

      “Well, if this isn’t a first.” He spoke to the occasion with a condescending note to either side of the cigarette poised delicately between his lips. “I can find my own way out, dear, trust me. No need to get up on my account.”