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The dark wasn't as terrifying as most people would it explain it to be. In fact, Slick often found himself finding comfort in the shadows that cause him to be blind. It was effortless to hide, to pretend he was alone (when in fact he really was) and relax where he knew no one would be able to see his empty expression. It was almost like a security blanket, like that of a child's toy, something tht comforted and reassured him that everything would be okay. So, maybe that was why he let out a half hearted groan at the surprisingly bright shocks of light that flashed somewhere off to his right flank. It almost hurt to see such a light, though his blue hue was closed from the world, it still felt the sensitivity of such abrupt sparks practically electrocuting the air around him. A bile of iron built in his tongue, like that after a thunderstorm, causing his brow to furrow and his eye to crack open slightly as he sneered and growled defensively.
He didn't have the energy to fight nor argue, his limbs laying limp at his sides, the only sign of rebellion being his sorry excuse for a snarl. He would undoubtedly slit the throat of whoever the hell had just built up the nerve to disturb him when he was attempting to sleep. Not to Merlin he had een so comfortable being alone and secluded and- "Doc...?" He mumbled out in a curious and cracked tone, his snarl faltering before dropping completely, as well as the little fight he had left in him. How the literal fuck did he get here? How the hell did he even...? Oh fuck. Fuck. Slick had almost forgotten the other's explanation of his capabilities, and as soon as the other had carefully looped an arm around him, the Crew leader felt a wave of both guilt and subtle amusement. Guilt, because he had gotten himself into the situation an now Doc was here, whether he was worried or not Slick couldn't discern in his out of mind state. He also felt amsyemen because, out if all the people in the god forsaken world, it was Doc Scratch, leader of the Felt, coming in to apparently... Do what now?
"What the fuck Doc..." He grumbled, scowling as much as he could muster at the other, huffing and glancing down to see the other's pale hand (wait, is he glowing? It seems like he's much... Brighter then the last time they conversed) reaching for his wound. As much as Slick would swear up and down that he didn't do this, he did indeed let out a sound close to that of a wounded, large beast and almost cringed away from the touch. It was highly embarrassing, though much like a reflex since all he really knew was pain, and he knew for some odd reason, what the other had planned was not going to be pleasant feeling. That aside, Slick was most definitely going to curse the other out for coming out of the blue, risking an opportunity for Droog to come back and probably put a bullet in his torso, and making slick feel disgusted with his own guilt. Though, or now, he just forced his meld to relax, trying to focus in the other's somewhat unnaturally calm voice, and slowly removed the blazer from his wound. "Careful." He got out in warning, not that he meant it as a threat that he'd harm Doc, but more so a warning that he was quite sensitive at the moment and would probably pass out at the wrong move.
2014-08-10 07:18:44 -
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"I could say the same to you, you know." Doc Scratch said, eyes flicking up to Spades Slick's face briefly. Though nobody had ever known Doc Scratch to curse, if any situation called for the usage of coarse language, this was one. Still, he found himself biting his tongue as he pulled the bloodied blazer away and set it on the ground. When he lifted his hand again, he saw smudges of crimson on the white pads of his fingers that caused his heart to still momentarily. Doc Scratch did not like blood on his hands, in either sense, figurative or literal. He swallowed then, resisting the urge to wipe it off on his white dress pants.
"You're going to feel a..." A what? How did he describe the exact sensation he'd be inflicting on Slick during this process? A bit off, at first."
He settled on that, then went to work. There was no obvious outside display of energy or anything that denoted him beginning to tug at the strings which controlled the other man's mind, but Slick could certainly feel it. There would be a sort of pressure in the center of his head, as if a hand were lightly pressing on his brain, before a warm sensation covered the injured mobster, pain fading to a dull sting as the bullet fragments moved slowly and of their own accord.
"If they ask, tell them you pulled these out on your own." Scratch murmured, absorbed in his work. His slender, delicate-looking fingers probed carefully in the wound, not a single movement jarring or rough. He drew out the first fragment and dropped it to the ground, then resumed the process.
Doc Scratch did not fear being caught, not by anyone. The authorities would not recognize him and could not detain him by any means, and there was nothing the Midnight Crew could do to him that was permanent. In fact, he would have preferred an encounter with the MC instead of with Midnight City's finest; it would be the encounter necessary to make himself known as a powerful force to them. Intimidation was a fine tool, one he realized they would be susceptible to. In the past he hadn't wanted to make himself known but now... A statement would be good. But he would not stay purposely; he knew that they (more specifically, Diamonds Droog) would question Spades Slick strenuously. He didn't need that in his current state. Slick had lost a lot of blood, but not too much, thankfully.
"I'm sorry." Doc Scratch said quietly, and he was sure Slick knew what for- he didn't like having to tweak his brain like he did, no matter how necessary it seemed.
2014-08-10 15:16:11 -
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He raised a brow just subtly at the other, snorting softly. "Ya could... Ya should... But, ya won't." He mumbled pointedly, briefly closing his hue before opening it briefly again, then closing it for a moment once more. The other should really take advantage of this time to scold Slick, seeing that now would probably be the only time he'd allow it and keep his mouth shut during the entire rant. Of course, that was merely blamed upon the fact he was exhausted and in no shape or form ready to defend himself. Hell, he was as limp as a rag doll in the other's arm, head moving however to rest lazily on the other's shoulder and watch a glanced hand tug the blazer away before setting it down. Slick caught the other's hesitation, the way he bristled slightly at the blood on his hand, and smirked slightly since, out of everything, Spades should be freaking out about the blood- it was his own, and such a large quantity too.
When the other tells him to brace himself, the wounded male only furrows his brow, the word 'off' not transmuting well in his head as he contemplated what tht could mean exactly. His body, however weak, tensed in intimidation, but soon the tension was rolling off his shoulders as some invisible force first caused his head to feel light, almost giggling so, and then pressure was added tht made his eye twitch in confusion. It didn't hurt, in fact it was quite the opposite as his cold body felt a relieving sensation of warmth caressing over his system and limbs. It was a bit overwhelming actually, and had somehow eased a half assed purr that escaped him almost too easily. He swallows the noise quickly, confusion watched deeply into his expression as he watches Doc's face, the a glances down at his nimble fingers actually pressing into his wound. It should have sent shocks of surprise and pain up his torso, but instead, it was like that of small needles pricking his skin. It wasn't unbearable, more annoying then anything else, but he till growled subtly at the sensation. "Ya weren't kiddin'." Came a hesitant reply to the explanation of what he'd feel. He felt overly calm, and as much as he should be cautious of this almost foreign feeling, he instead gave into it and made a process of glancing between the ministrations between his wound, to the other's practically angelic like features.
'Fuck this is stupid... I could've jus' pulled them out earlier, oh but no, I had to pass out for a bit. Then again, I probably wouldn't be able to since I could barely walk 'n' not pass out from jus' that.' He starts reasoning out his situation, convincing himself that this was probably for thes best... It really wasn't that hard to come to that conclusion and agree with it. Though, sometime around the last few shards, Slick started scolding himself. "Damn it, this is embarrassin'. I had to have Scratch come 'n' fuckin' save me cause of this... Goddamn it, what if he thinks I'm a nuisance now? Wait... What if it's too much of a task to grow attached to someone prone to injury? Well, fuck... /Fuck/.' He would have face palmed if he weren't so limp, his blue hue narrowing at nothing in particular but himself, until he heard the apology. He could already figure what it was for, and, probably because of his warm state, gave a quiet chuckle. "Don't fuckin' say that... Ya wouldn't be doin' this if I had paid attention..." If he had just paid a smidge more of attention to the guards, maybe he might have prevented this whole situation. Though, he can at least admit one thing that was beneficial to him out of all this. Though, as greedy as it sounds, he was actually quite pleased that it was Scratch lending a hand rather then Droog... Or anyone else for that matter.
2014-08-10 18:44:13 -
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"I'll have none of that, Slick." Doc Scratch warned, tone strict as if the other man had begun to severely berate someone undeserving of it. Even if now proved to be the best time to lecture the Crew leader, Scratch felt no need to do as much. He'd come out to tend to him, not scold him for his one mistake. Besides, Slick was in no fit shape to be on the receiving end of any reprimanding.
"Everyone makes mistakes." Scratch continued, refocusing on the other man's bullet wound. "You are not above them, and do not expect yourself to be- that can only harm you." He held his tongue after that; he knew Spades Slick's thoughts and wanted to address the false ones, to better set the Crew leader's mind at ease. He felt bad the other would assume such things, but it was up to him to set them to rights.
"I apologized because I find it rather conflicting with my personal morals to control what others physically feel. I suppose I have an excuse in this instance, and yet..." He shook his head slightly. "Don't think less of me, please." He feared that, even if the notion was nonsensical, Spades Slick would be frightened by his abilities, and want no part of him.
Likewise, Scratch was not going to consider Slick unworthy of his affections simply because he was prone to getting injured. To a degree, everyone in their business was. It simply came with the territory, just as being aided when it was necessary came with Doc Scratch's... What were they, really? He couldn't be sure. They weren't exactly exclusive, yet Slick had sent Droog off when the other had come onto him. That could be saved for later, he supposed.
"Slick." Scratch said softly, once he was finished removing the bits of metal from the other man. He looked down at Slick, who had rested his head on his shoulder. "If you were not worth my time, I would not have come here for you. It has been... A long time since I last left Felt Manor. I had no cause to leave then, but now..." He nodded a bit, eyes meeting the other's. "I do. Well, have." He swallowed a little, embarrassed at the slip up. "You have my aid, Slick, do not mistake me."
Doc Scratch would finish by clotting the wound himself to stop the bleeding better; he'd still use the blazer against it, but Spades would lose no more blood. He was low on it, of course, but he would survive. Doc Scratch could have removed the wound and fixed the blood situation entirely, but that was inadvisable. The Midnight Crew would notice and later Spades Slick would feel an intense period of fatigue from his bodily functions being tampered with, but nothing that would tip off his teammates. Scratch lifted his hand and let it rest on Spades' head, lightly brushing his black locks back into order.
"You don't need me to tell you this, but I would advise playing dumb about this ever occurring. No one has to know, not should they." Nobody would be able to pin it on Scratch anyway- any sort of fault or charge would slip off him as if he were made from Teflon.
2014-08-11 19:52:44 -
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Slick felt his body stiffen at the other's abrupt tone. It wasn't something he was familiar with, and furrowed his brow at the stern voice before Scratch was continueing, and explaining to Slick that yes, he made a mistake, but no, that does not mean it's something he can help. Well, besides maybe paying more attention, however he shoves that thought down quickly as a certain fragment brushes against his nerves, sending a slight shock of needles up his system and jumbling his thoughts for a second or so. He was sure that, without the help of Doc's mind manipulation, that would have driven Slick into unconsciousness, if not blood curdling pain. So, of course he gives Scratch a decent scowl at his comment to not think less of him. In all blatant honesty, he had no room to make such conclusions. In fact, he'd feel quite guilty and disgusted with himself if he did, so for the other to say that, he better be damned glad that Slick was too weak and exhausted to argue back efficiently and scold him for once.
"You're gonna fuckin'... Shut up 'bout that shit... If I can't argue back, don't tell me to do shit..." He points out, somehow maneuvering to nuzzle ever so slightly into the crook of the other's neck and twitch slightly at the last fragment being pulled out. He knew he shouldn't feel so damned comfortable, hell this is the last situation he should feel comfortable in, but he found himself doing just that as the other started clotting the wound. Slick didn't particularly want to move, nor did he feel like he had the strength to do so if he had wished it. Scratch really wasn't helping to make Spades finally sit up on his own, or maybe attempt to get up, by the soothing petting of his gloved hand combing through his raven locks. "... Goddamn it Doc." He grumbled, not able to stop the quick and almost loud thump of his blood pumper pulsing in his chest, the small slip up from the porcelain man making a very unwanted color tinge his cheeks. "Jus'... Shuttahp." He mumbled, no threats or stern tone behind it, regardless if he had the energy to sound strict or not.
He was already aware he wouldn't be able to tell the Crew about what had happened to him, or at least the current scenerio. He would be able to twist a lie about the events without batting an eye, it's sort of his specialty. So, he doesn't comment on it, merely nodding his head once on the other's shoulder, and shifting ever so slightly and slowly, almost calculated, before pressing a thankful and appreciative kiss to Scratch's lips. In a way, Slick had been craving the kiss anyway, though maybe in a better situation or circumstance it would have been more pleasing, but he wanted something to wash out the mentally lingering taste of Droog on him. Spades Slick wasn't a very thankful man, and though he wouldn't be able to outright say his appreciation to the other, he sure as hell could express it. "You're a... Smug bastard." He teased lightly, smiling slightly before feeling the nagging sensation that the other should leave. Slick didn't want him to get caught by Droog, or anyone from the Crew for that matter, and knew if he stayed, their little secret would inevitably be unfolded and exposed.
2014-08-11 22:57:09 -
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Doc Scratch could not prevent a secret smirk to overcome him, unseen by Spades Slick due to their current position. He was glad the other hadn't reacted adversely to Scratch's little mind tricks- it was possible the subject could panic and potentially injure themselves. One had to be incredibly careful when assuming control of another's faculties and Doc Scratch took every precaution there was. He was not going to be responsible for hurting anyone that way, perhaps least of all Spades Slick. The warm sensation he was experiencing did not fade, even as Scratch returned the bloody blazer to Slick's side and moved the other man's hand on top of it, giving his hand a slight squeeze. He'd enjoyed their brief kiss; it came as a sort of relief to him, actually, and he felt grateful to Slick after.
Carefully, the First Guardian shifted the downed man back down toward the wall, setting him against it. Doc Scratch slowly pulled away, as if Slick were a child on a bicycle, riding without training wheels for the first time. He straightened his back and looked down at the other man, nodding slightly.
"Take it easy." He said succinctly, smirk still visible. He found it charming Slick insisted on calling him 'smug bastard'. He knew the other man enjoyed it. His gaze lingered, then his form flickered and shifted, before disappearing in a flash of green and white light. The sharp tang of ozone didn't completely override the sweet scent of vanilla that lingered, and lasted even after the former had faded.
Doc Scratch quickly ducked back into his office, only managing to take notice of the blood on his gloves right before going into the back room. Scratch pulled them off quickly, tossing them onto his desk. He rejoined Sawbuck afterward, and thankfully the other hadn't been kept waiting too long. It had felt longer to Scratch; that was odd since when they were kissing the time had flown by at a frightening rate. Sawbuck did not stay for much longer, to Scratch admitted relief, but he was shortly followed by Fin and Trace, who had little to say in reality, yet made a big show of it as per usual. Scratch entertained them, an uneasy feeling mounting within him all the while. It was with the final flash of their grins and glint in their eyes as they left it all came to a head: Scratch knew for certain the two had smelled the blood on him.
2014-08-12 02:40:22 -
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Slick felt much like a sick child being cared for. The way Scratch had gently laid him back against the wall, an formerly pressed the blazer back to his wound so carefully, if not caring. All he could honestly do was snort back at the other's comment, eye closing when the bright flash of light occurred, and left a bitter taste in his mouth. However, like the sweet scent around him, the taste of vanilla doesn't leave him easily. He should be annoyed by that, but in blatant honesty he isn't. In fact, he silently takes delight in it, fingertips tingling as the warm sensation caresses up and down his nerves gently.
He doesn't know when he does, but apparently he had passed out some time after Doc had left, either from exhaustion or the heavy loss of blood, he wasn't too sure. He does wake up in time, eventually, to hear the scuffle of someone kicking metal across concrete out in the parking garage. Soft hisses of "Slick!" came from the outside as well, and in turn the Crew leader groaned loudly. He'd recognize the slightly irritated tone anyway. In a few seconds or so, Droog had found the window with the cardboard box covering a respectable sized hole. The scorch marks had been a good hint as well. "Boss?" He asked quietly, hesitating before hopping through the hell, paying mind to his clothing and grimaces subtly at the amount of dirt and severe scattered about the inside of the building. Almost immediately afterward though, his eyes settle upon Slick, and he's all too quick to appear at his side and immediately start scolding the shorter male. "You're a fool if I have never seen one before. Do you know how worried Deuce and Boxcars are back at the hideout? There are cops /everywhere/, as if they're practically hounding for us boss. We have the briefcases intact, however you're going to need-" he just kept ranting on and on to Slick, telling him how much a pain in the ass it would be to take care of him, and how much time it would take for his wounds to heal over, even if a bit.
Slick merely smirked, chuckling lightly like Droog had just told a joke, but the taller doesn't seem to notice over his bickering and scolding. Carefully, Droog moves to scoop the smaller male up, being as careful as possible. Slick flinched mildly, jaw flexing at the quick motion (or what seemed to be quick in his foggy mind) and somewhat clung to the taller by placing a hand over the front of his suit, and gripping tightly there. A light groan escapes him, and he knows he's going to fall asleep once more, exhaustion yanking nonstop on his consciousness. "Shuttahp 'n'... Let me sleep." He slurred out, his hue closing again before he's sleeping once more whilst being carried and handed over to Boxcars through the hole, bridal style. It didn't take long to put Slick into the Cadillac awaiting the three at the sidewalk, the crescent moon looming over the city casually.
2014-08-12 03:54:34 -
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Doc Scratch would not even allow himself to worry about the fact that two Felt members were aware he'd somehow come into contact with someone else's blood. They had no idea about Spade Slick's shooting, and even if they did it would be impossible for them to somehow connect them. While it would baffle the two, yes, they'd be as yet unable to puzzle it all out. Eventually, Scratch figured, they'd forget all about it. Fin and Trace were not to threaten Scratch and his... Current arrangement with Spades Slick. He was still at a loss for what to call it, exactly, and thus decided he would play the thing by ear, off of Slick's cues, something he had no qualms with whatsoever.
Doc Scratch spent the rest of the evening at a rather slow pace; the thing he did first upon dealing with prior appointments was treat his white gloves in order to get Slick's blood out of them. It was odd to see them dirtied, as usually he came into contact with no foreign contaminants that would soil them. He'd removed them before beginning to take the fragments from Slick's wound, but a bit had come off from the blazer. He didn't wear them every day, at any rate; it was an off and on habit, depending on who he would be seeing throughout the course of the day. When Slick had come calling early in the morning he hadn't had them because he had been sleeping beforehand, but when the rival gang's leader came by for their meeting the very first day he had been. Besides his gloves, his pants were a bit grayed on one knee of one pant leg, where he'd knelt on the floor to aid Slick.
The day had been interesting, to say the least. Doc Scratch knew he was right not to fear Spades Slick regressing into old habits with Diamonds Droog; the thought of him pushing his taller subordinate off was still present in Scratch's mind and, oddly enough, the First Guardian had no issues whatsoever with it being there. It made him smile to think of, accompanied by the fact Slick would rather have had him tending to his wound instead of Droog; there was even sense behind it; really. Scratch knew infinitely more about medical aid than Droog did, but that was a given. For such a small gang, the four of them had made their names very efficiently. It irked him a bit to see his squad of over a dozen being so nonchalant with their own slots in the underworld, then, but what could he do? They were who they were, after all, and they were just good enough to be on the Midnight Crew's tail. Scratch only hoped that, when the gangs clashed again (it was inevitable), Slick would not take anything that transpired against him, whether it was his colleagues besting Scratch's or any other outcome.
2014-08-12 20:13:07 -
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"Boss? Boss...? Are ya awake?" Came a curious and meek voice, and soon small hand that pats his chest carefully, testing. Slick had been sleeping for awhile now, breathing calmly before giving a soft groan and twitch of his facial expression. He wasn't too deep in his sleep that he couldn't feel the warmth of a hand pat his chest. It was... Almost too warm. Hue blue hue scrunched, nose crinkling and his tongue slightly sticking out before he was starting to come out of unconsciousness. The first thing he noted was the dim light above him, concrete surrounding the light, and a few cracks in said contcrete. It looked highly familiar... And then he turns his head slowly to see Deuce looking worriedly at him from his perch next to whatever Slick was laying on. It wasn't too comfy, if the popping in his back was anything to go off of as he twists his body slowly about where he laid. "Ngghh... Fuck, how long was I out?" He growled out, snarling.
The smaller hummed, glancing around before shrugging. "Dunno, awhile. Ya don't allow us t'a have clocks in the hideout, 'member?" He pointed out, and slid off his seat to plop onto the linoleum floor of the room with a soft click of his shoes. At that sound, Slick finally out the puzzle pieces together and moved a bough to sit up on his elbows, groaning as his head swam and his fingertips dug into the surface of the table he was laying on. To be exact, the kitchen table. He was also shirtless, which would explain the alien warmth of Deuce's hand on his chest. Something else that was off was the wrapping of white gauze around his waist. This earned a furrow of his brow, and a hesitant hand coming down to carefully lift up one of the flaps of the gauze, seeing it was quite fresh.
"If advize that you reframe from ruining my work; unless you want more then a bullet in your side, boss." Came a familiar and stern tone, almost making the leader jump on the table, but instead he just quickly let's go of the wrapping and shoots Droog a cold glare. He was wiping his hands off on a once white rag, now smeared with dark and light shades of red; inevitably, it was his Slick's blood.
"What the hell is this?" He snapped at the male who was giving him a look between aggressive and... Curious?
"You were passed out. Apparently you had lost quite the amount of blood. I'm surprised you're awake now." He got out quickly and in choppy sentences. He apparently had something much more important on his mind. At first, Slick was puzzled as to what it was, and then it hit him. The fragments. Droog wasn't oblivious, and was a lot more attentive towards evidence and detail. "Now, Deuce, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to talk to the boss alone?" He asked of the smallest who had tugged a drink from the fridge, then nods a few times before wandering off into the living room. "You have some explaining to do, Slick." Droog summed up quickly as the smallest Crew member left.
2014-08-12 20:58:27 -
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While Spades Slick was skilled in blatantly lying to others and getting away with it with the target being none the wiser, Doc Scratch abstained entirely from that practice. He was, however, just as proficient (if not more) when it came to gently twisting his words to be subtly ambiguous- letting others leave the conversation thinking they had gotten what they'd wanted when in reality he had preserved his ulterior motive, whatever it had been. He did not normally have to exercise this ability with the Felt, as they would normally listen to him without question. They had good cause to, considering Scratch made a point not to tell a blunt lie in any case. Some, however, enjoyed testing their boundaries.
No one was entirely sure if Fin and Trace were actual brothers, and Scratch, in all honesty, did not care enough to broach the topic with anyone though he knew the answer behind it. They certainly weren't twins, Fin being the taller of the two with blue eyes a shade too close to Spades Slick's for Scratch's comfort. His ginger hair was slicked forward to an obnoxious point, and, when one cared to notice, his top teeth were superimposed over his lower. The opposite was true with Trace, who had a bit of an underbite. He had poor posture and slouched, giving him the gait of a more predatory being. His hair was brown and his eyes tamer, but the two had the same twin grins and interlocked way of moving that made them look as if they were constantly stalking some unfortunate being. They didn't look too far off from quadrupedal hunters, really, and their temporal abilities rounded out the analogy well.
Today their quarry was Doc Scratch, and the latter had the distinct misfortune of being caught in a hallway. They hadn't gotten him from the front and back thankfully, because he had no trail to follow. They knew he didn't require being stalked, and would simply enter a conversation with them.
"Hey, Doc." Fin was taller than Scratch by a barely noticeable margin, when one excluded his hair.
"Good evening." Scratch replied, folding his hands behind his back and not allowing his tone to be mistaken for anything but courteous. "How may I be of assistance to you?"
"Yeah, we have some questions."
Trace stepped a bit to the side, nearer to Scratch. The both of them had issues with other's personal space; not even Scratch was exempt from that.
"And you're the guy with all the answers, right?" Trace grinned as if it were an inside joke, all of this, but Scratch didn't let any of their leering touch him. He almost bristled at their proximity, closing his arms across his chest instead.
"So I've been told. I suggest you make haste with the inquiries, however."
2014-08-13 09:25:22 -
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At first, Slick had attempted to sit up, however Droog almost immediately stopped him before he could tear up any stitching the taller had done to him. After awhile of Slick complaining about the table being hard as a rock and his back killing him, Droog finally gave in and helped the boss to the living room. And by help, more so carry a grumpy Slick who wasn't at all pleased with being treated like a damsel in distress.
"Put me the /fuck/ down!" He snapped, hands threatening to encircle around the taller's throat and break it. Though, he does end up being settled upon the couch, and the taller sits on the opposing side of the furniture.
Slick didn't want to be questioned. He didn't even wish to have a conversation -period- with Droog. It was as if some sort of hangover had overwhelmed his system, leaving him more immobile and exhausted then anything else rather then an obnoxiously loud pounding in his cranium. But, it seemed he'd end up getting a headache either way since his subordinate wished to receive some answers.
"Did ya finish the shit I told ya to do?" He asked after a moment, attempting to relax in his seat.
"Yes. Deuce helped quite a bit as well; however, there are still cops hounding the city. We may have to stay low."
"Uh-huh."
There was a short pause, almost awkward really, and Slick knew the fragment situation wasn't the only thing Droog had questions for.
"So. I found something quite interesting Slick. See, I was going about my business, cleaning your obnoxious wound and making sure you weren't dumb enough to get dirt inside it, and upon not finding infection, guess what else I hadn't found?" He asked with an almost matter-of-fact tone that rubbed Slick the wrong way.
"I don't fuckin' know? What is this, twenty-questions? I'm too tired for this shit-lemme jus' go to bed 'n'-"
"Did you pulls the fragments out, Slick?"
"Yes."
The leader almost surprised himself at how fluidly he had responded to the question. However, he doesn't show such shock as he proceeds with an intense staring game with Droog. The shorter of the two could feel the doubt rolling off of the taller's shoulders.
"You did? In your pained state? As I recall it, your could barely hold pressure upon the wound without passing out. So, do explain to me as to how you were able to acquire such last minute strength and will power to take each individual fragment from your body. Go on." Droog shifted in his seat, crossing his legs and giving Slick an expectant look.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
"I don't remember asshole. I was delusional by that point, I mean hell, I let ya carry me outta the damned place like a princess without a single word. Which, I'll warn ya now, I will slit your throat if ya do again." He shrugs, and Droog doesn't seem to be buying it... But, the taller doesn't question any further. He does stay staring at Slick for a bit though, but ends up shaking his head and pushing off of the couch.
"Fine. I'll settle for that. I suppose if you were adrenalized, you could have done such a thing... And knowing how idiotic and rash you are, I wouldn't doubt you'd do something as risky as plunging into your own wound. Fine. Rest, I won't carry you anymore, boss." He grumbled, seeming a bit perplexed, but wanders off before the boss can really make out what was on his mind. At least he hadn't asked why Slick had shoved him away the former night; he didn't have enough energy to spin a lie for that.
2014-08-13 19:07:23 -
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Doc Scratch did feel guilty about forcing Spades Slick to lie directly to Diamonds Droog's face, but there really was nothing to be done about it; the simple fact was that if Doc Scratch had not appeared to Slick and aided him, he would not have lived. Otherwise the Felt leader would not have shown himself in the first place. Separately, there was a small part of Doc Scratch that invited Droog to interrogate /him/ instead, and that he'd gladly give the other man the answers he sought. It wasn't as if he desired conflict, he merely wished to bring an end to the tension between Slick and Droog. It was only a matter of time before someone boiled over and when that happened, Scratch might not be able to intervene. For the time being, however, he had his own issues to handle.
"Alright, alright." Fin smirked; the trio seemed to be at a stalemate. They all knew what they were there to discuss, but who would be the first to broach their topic was still up in the air.
"So what've you been up to?" Trace asked, eyes listlessly roaming Scratch as if his answer would be spelled out on the other's now-immaculate suit.
"Simply tending to my designated business." Scratch said dismissively. "I suppose you two would be unable to say the same." He was trying to get them off topic, but for once they weren't taking his bait.
"What was your business?" Fin pressed. "You couldn't-a just been sittin' around like usual, doing papers."
"Yeah, I think you left the Manor." Trace added, and it seemed to Scratch they were slowly advancing on him.
"From where do you draw that conclusion? You are both well aware I have virtually no reason to do so."
"Not that we know!" Fin raised his eyebrows and drew his shoulders up. "You keep everything to yourself."
"But we know you had to leave. You got that blood somewhere else."
Scratch's right foot shifted behind his left and he bristled momentarily. How could he bend words to get out of this? Usually he had ample room to dance around his conversational partners, but the two had backed him into a corner at last. As tempting as it would have been to blame Spades Slick for this, Scratch knew he himself was at fault. The situation frustrated him, but he would never give in to anger that easily.
Doc Scratch did not yell. He had not when the chandelier had fallen a long while ago, and he did not when any heist, however important, was botched. When he yelled, however, it had to be one of the most frightening things to hear his smooth silver voice turned to white lightning, deadly to strike and accompanied by rolling thunder, sometimes literally. He and never had a real outburst, but they were something that hit directly in the core of someone's being, some fiber deep within that housed animalistic instincts. And those instincts were of fear and flight. Even so, this did not warrant raising his voice; no, now his voice was a sharp double-edged blade, silver turned to flashing, cold steel as he spoke, seeming to raise up.
"Where I have and have not been is strictly my business and mine alone. Should I choose to inform you, I will, but you have absolutely no reason to hound me about my whereabouts for any reason whatsoever."
They recognized his tone and shrunk down a bit, eyes widening; they weren't unfamiliar with being in the mercy seat, and they certainly didn't enjoy it.
"Do you honestly suspect me of illicit goings-on behind all of your backs? I, who am your designated leader and have repeatedly directed and advised you, never for your harm?"
The two mumbled something that sounded very like "no, sir", trying to avoid Scratch's acidic eyes.
"The very notion of doing something so traitorous as plotting against my own makes me sick. And do not mistake me; I not angry with you for thinking so. I am merely disappointed in you for thinking for even a moment I would even attempt to conduct such business. I suggest you accept the fact you will not know where I was until the time comes, if it comes, that I deign to tell you. Are we clear?"
Fin and Trace nodded in sync, looking down. Scratch nearly smirked.
"Very good. Dismissed."
Off the two slunk, feeling more than a bit guilty and rather like scolded dogs. Scratch would hear no more on the matter from them, though he was sure they'd attempt to get back into his good graces- so was their nature.
2014-08-14 00:25:23 -
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Honestly, Spades didn't have a problem with spinning lies. In fact, he'd be considered a bastard if he said he didn't enjoy dancing about truths like they were lava. He didn't think negatively of Scratch for pointing out that twisting the truth would be beneficial for the both of then. He probably would have lied to Droog and the otger Crew members either way. Though, he'd get skeptical looks, they'd hold their peice of mind and keep quiet, unless provoked.
"Put this on." Boxcars gave offhandedly as he came into the living room, tossing an arm sling at Slick who grunted from his relaxed laying down position. He didn't flinch as the sling hit his face, however a low growl does emit from the snarl on his features.
"Fuck no, I ain't wearin' this shit. Ya can also say 'please' ya fuckin' brute." He snapped, irritated now, more so then exhausted, but that was only by a fraction of an inch.
"Boss, Droog said ya gotta wear it. He said he didn't need ya openin' the stitches in yer side, so ya gotta where it."
"Like hell I do!"
"Look, jus' wear da shit for a few days; ya want Droog to get on yer ass?" The tallest asked with a raised brow, crossing his arms. Spades just sort of glared at him, pausing... Before throwing the sling at the other's face, unsurprisingly hitting him in the save as he had down to him. Though Slick was weak, he threw knives for fun and practice, so his aim was quite accurate.
Boxcars, on the other hand, was impaired with such accuracy, and though he may have hit Slick the first time easily, the second time the sling goes flying off to the side. This earns a cocky cackle from Slick, who is soon growling like a cornered animal as Boxcars gives a curt, "Why you li'l bastard-"
"Whatcha gonna do 'bout it, Big B? Eat me? HAH!" Spades Slick was really pushing it, but if he was bothered and uncomfortable, then the rest of his Crew would be as well.
"I'll break your fuckin' neck!" Hearts snapped out hotly, his hands flexing in temptation at his sides.
"Ooh, really? I'm /so/ terrified! Why don't'cha jus' go fuck yourself, yeh?" The shorter mused, tone bitter and lathered in venom. In a way, this was him venting. He was sore, tired, and just overall much like a grumpy ol' tom cat. Boxcars was just his play-thing for the moment. Eventually, Soades Slick would appologize... If he wasn't beaten to a bloody pulp beforehand. Slick was an aggressive person, inside and out. It wasn't an entire wonder tht he could never keep anyone close without them attempting to end his life; however, Slick wasn't as idiotic as he let on. Though he made observations, they were only to benefit himself, an that would often get him into quite the bit of trouble. Hence why he's not a lawyer and is a thriving mobster in the slums of the city.
Almost abruptly, the larger male lashes out, using one hand to curl around the boss' throat and squeeze. Slick didn't expect such an action, his body jerking with the quick movement before the back of his head bangs against the back of the couch. A chocked noise escaped his lips, but he's not scared, just amused. A chuckle struggles from his fangs, blue hue widening before narrowing, smirk present on his lips.
"Gck! Feel better?!" He rasped, both hands curling and clawing into the other'e wrist, then a large lick of flame bursts from his hands, biting and snaking around Boxcars arm. Before it can do any real damage, which would have probably costed the man his arm, a cue stick is brought down like a whip and strikes the brute's arm, causing him to yelp and let the boss go. Slick just slumped against the couch, panting and trying to calm the flames that lapped hungrily from his palms. Quickly, he shoots an accusing look at Droog, who doesn't look pleased even slightly.
"The fuck was that!" The smaller asked in a louder tone then needed, and only received a semi-hard whap on the head with the stick.
"I told you to /rest/, can you not listen to even the most simplest of orders?"
"I take orders from no one but my damned self."
"You're in no shape whatsoever to make an order. You're weak as of now, and if you keep fooling around, you're going to-..." He's staring at Slick, and though the boss should snap once more as to what's wrong, he doesn't. He already knows, he can feel it. With a quick glance down, he sees red seeping through the gauze; a violent, angry red color that seemed to scold Slick for his actions.
"Damn it Slick!"
2014-08-14 01:02:42 -
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After the stint with Fin and Trace the First Guardian had little left to do, save return to his own room for the remainder of the evening. Scratch found himself dawdling, however; as there was nowhere to be, really, he found himself wandering a bit. There were no windows in his apartments, but once he came across one he caught himself looking out it and then drew nearer. He slid the glass pane upward and put his palms on the windowsill, facing outward. The night sky was like a spread of dark velvet, the moon a large crescent-shaped broach, and the stars rhinestones bolted on. Besides today's brief foray, Scratch had not been out there in many years. The city had changed quite a lot in his time, but he'd always felt detached from it.
Scratch could barely find any reasons to go out there; it wasn't as if he had any specific desires to be catered to that the city could provide him service for. He saw no reason to go out, really. If someone wanted him to accompany them, for whatever reason, things might have been a different story, but as yet no one had come forward with such proposals. What he'd seen that afternoon was barely a taste of Midnight City, and barely even qualified as that. Some part of him did want to go out, however, to taste the night air and feel his surroundings enveloping him. He partially feared that might never be, but why was that? The only thing stopping him from doing as much was himself, really.
In all his fancies of going out again, Doc Scratch always saw himself as being accompanied by Spades Slick in some way. He found the idea of being on the other man's arm strangely appealing, really, even though he didn't seem the sort. Scratch desired some form of contact with him, yes, but he figured Slick would not be sneaking out to see him again anytime soon. He could deal with that- he felt assured the other man would not simply forget him. Scratch wasn't about to sneak into the Midnight Crew's hideout though; not only would that agitate Slick, he didn't want to risk being caught by anyone. He'd leave handling the Midnight Crew to their leader- after all, Slick had proved capable enough time and time again.
2014-08-15 07:03:01 -
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"ACK! Fuck, Droog, get the anesthesia! Call 911-ngh-or knock me out, Jesus fuckin' Christ." Slick cursed as the taller male in question was quietly seeing up his wound once more. A few more stitches, an he was finished. He had to tug the former thread from the other's wound, then disinfect it again, wipe, and sew. In a few movements, and some barking orders from Slick, he finally gets his torso wrapped up once more.
"You're quite the loudmouth."
"'N' you're 'quite' the asshole." He hissed back, holding his side before looking down at it, then looked up as he saw the taller out something in front of him in his peripheral vision. The accursed sling.
"I ain't wearin' that."
"Do you wish to open your wound once more?"
"..."
"I can take the thread out now, add twice as needed so it's more durable, and start /all/ over again-"
"A'ight, a'ight, a'ight! I get it, bastard." Slick reluctantly took the arm sling from Droog's palm, grimacing at the thin fabric before huffing, and finally tugging it over his head, and putting his arm into the cast part of it.
"... I feel stupid."
"Well, you surely look it boss."
"You sunnuvabitch."
--
Slick wasn't allowed to leave te hideout. It wasn't as if he hadn't tried, in fact he attempted a handful of times before realizing it was futile to even think of going outside the hideout for even a smoke. Droog was up most of the time counting the cash and storing it, coming close to about two hundred grand, and stuck the money in the floorboards located in his own wardrobe. He always kept an eye on Slick, making sure he ate and didn't just shove his food away to 'finish later', and occasionally checked his wound to change the wrapping and such.
However, the boss was starting to feel suffocated, and honestly, he was starting to find himself wandering more and more so to thoughts of Scratch. As much as the Crew leader would have jumped at the opportunity to leave, Droog always caught him before he could open the hatch, asking where he was going before the wounded man would always reply with 'goin' out for a drink'. That didn't settle too well with the subordinate, so he'd always drag a cursing, grumpy Slick back to his bed to continue resting up. This continued for three, to four days. And finally, Droog had allowed Slick to go out. Now, it was daytime, so going to the Manor was out of the question, as tempting as it was, he didn't need to be caught in his vulnerable position and have someone like Cans on his ass. He still didn't have much the energy to fight back, but like hell he would go down without a struggle.
So, he instead focuses upon fulfilling his promise to himself to find out a way to express his thanks to Doc for helping him in his time of dire need. He'd had a few days to brood over the thought and knew bed wouldn't be able to outright say his appreciation. His pride was much too large for that, regardless of who it was, but figured he could /do/ something instead of saying it. That's why he stops by a store or two, ordering a few things and making sure they would be ready at a certain time before quickly leaving back to the hideout. He'd used some money from the sash the Crew had, but it would undoubtedly go unnoticed, just like the little runs he made since he wasn't bringing anything back to the hideout... Other then a beer and a pack of cigarettes, but that was it. The one bottle wasn't enough to get him tipsy, let alone, drunk, so he didn't have to be scolded by his 'mother' when he got back. The tasks were taken care of quite quickly too, and he had to go to the more shady parts of town to get them done, as a precaution to avoid wandering eyes and law enforcement. But, nonetheless, they were done and should be efficient enough for what he has planned. Slick constantly has to shove his thoughts away, knowing it was pretty futile to do so, but he was a stubborn person and continued anyway.
2014-08-15 07:30:23 -
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Doc Scratch was used to the concept of nothing really surprising him. He was unable to even block out knowledge from his own mind; his scant dark pockets were all the relief he received from his omniscience, and he was sure that most would dissolve given time. Those that did not were simply irrelevant. It was good that he was skilled at acting pleasantly surprised, grateful, humbled, or whatever the particular situation might have called for. Surprise eluded him, but the other emotions didn't; when someone went out of their way to do something like that for him (which was not often) he expressed genuine emotion. More often than not, he would do something to show as much. Usually it was small, but to him every gesture had meaning, no matter how obscure it was.
As much as Scratch anticipated Spades Slick's "surprise", his reception to it was still up in the air; despite the fact Scratch was omniscient, he disliked being sprung with things and expected to go along with no actual permission being warranted beforehand. As had already been evidenced by Scratch, the First Guardian found no issue in shutting Spades Slick down if he found it to be completely necessary. Still, he found himself to be strangely trusting of Slick. Whether it not he'd regret that choice he'd leave to the other man to decide. Otherwise he was confident the Midnight Crew's leader could not and would not harm him- he knew he would would be loath to hurt Slick at this point, and expected the same.
Similarly, Scratch found very little drive to be harsh to the Felt members. It was true his scoldings when something when ludicrously awry were to be feared, but those had been warranted. He was by no means unjust, and kept them all on an even playing field. It was true he could be biased, but he was also gifted (if that was the proper word to be used) with knowing and understanding all sides of the problem. Usually he resolved them quickly and with little issue being raised, other times he left them to work things out on their own. The Felt were all grown men and one grown woman, and he did not consider it his place to babysit any of them, save Eggs and Biscuits when no one else did. But they were a different case altogether, the exceptions to many rules. Scratch was not a sitter, at any rate; he was a host and did his very best to serve and entertain when called for. He already did so with the Felt- adding Slick to the equation wouldn't be the easiest thing, but he would manage, he was sure.
2014-08-16 03:13:38 -
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When the night finally rolled in, an Slick was fully anticipating the event, he stuck a cigarette between his lips and prepared to leave the hideout. He still had to wear the sling, albeit reluctantly, and would find himself being hound down by Droog if he didn't, so now the accursed thing was a part of him... Sort of. It made lighting a cigarette a bit of a hassle, but he managed as he slid the zippo lighter into his back pocket, and maneuvered quietly through the living room. Boxcars was fast asleep on the futon again, the TV playing white noise as the boss made sure the other two were asleep, and quietly snuck out of the hatch.
He didn't go directly to the Manor though; no, first he had to take his Cadillax to the florist. Yes, Spades Slick, one of the most violent and ruthless mobsters of the city, bought flowers. He had ransacked his head on what on Earth to get Scratch, and Boxcars is always talking about how flowers and candy is flattering to give someone? Though, he doesn't get candy, seeing that he himself has a sweet tooth and might accidentally end up eating said gift without realizing it. The bouquet he had made was a dozen roses, however eleven were a vibrant green, and one that was directly in the center was a pure white rose. It made Slick feel almost embarrassed to buy the damned thing, but he was new to this whole... Were they dating? No, no, they hadn't even gone out in a date yet, or even if that's possible. Well, they certainly weren't boyfriends, that was too much of an understatement and too childish, even for Slick's tastes. What about...
A couple?
It was stretching the relationship a bit, however it was as good a term as he could come up with whilst in the car and driving to the next place on his nonexistent list. He had to stop at a market where he'd had good pre-made, and also stopped at a walk-in store to snag some candles and a large blanket. People ate dinners at the park at night... Right? Slick assumed so, or else all those movies Boxcars watches is a chocked full of deception and lies. The more romantic Crew member is who Slick had been observing for the past few days, even going as far as to ask a question or two out of mere curiosity, or so he said. With the mobster's luck though, it would all blow up in his face and leave him staggering backwards and fall flat on his lower back. Romance wasn't particularly his strong suit; now ask him about torture or what knife would be best to cut one's fingers off? And he was your man. But this? This was totally and utterly out of his safe-zone, but he couldn't help but get a small thrill from it.
Of course, it hits him quite hard when he stops on the street where the Manor is located, and realizes down thing he had forgotten to consider for the past few days. Hadn't Scratch said he doesn't go outside often... Or at all?
'Oh fuck... FUCK, I MESSED UP!' Slick scolded his meld mentally, his forehead hitting against his steering wheel and earned a loud honk for his actions. With a hiss and glare at his car, he glances to the bouquet, and figures he can at least give him the flowers. And so he does, grabbing the roses, and gets out of his car before shutting the door as quietly as possible. It doesn't take more but a few strides to get to the gate, but as soon as he slipped past it, he feels the overwhelming weight of nervousness on his shoulders. He doesn't even know where it came from, but he'd be lying if he said it hadn't hit him hard. It was so immense and heavy that once the door had come up, Slick froze, staring at the green wood and clutching the flowers in one hand. He couslnt even knock, just stand there and attempt to figure out what to say when the door opened. He knew now he wouldn't have to knock, and just waited.
The taller mobster would rack through his thoughts, trying to come up with something good to say other then a simple 'ay', and out of all the things to say, when the door opens, the first words that come tumbling from his mouth is "You're a smug bastard and your face is stupid." Before shoving the bouquet forward, quite literally in the other's face.
2014-08-16 03:46:20 -
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Scratch felt, not for the first time, wholly glad the Felt were all away. The Manor was empty, for once, the other tenants having gone out on their own organized outing. That was what he called it, when in reality it was a series of breakings and enterings, not unlike the kind the Midnight Crew conducted. The difference was that this was to be a bit more stealthy and a bit of a buildup, to aid them later on. It wasn't just a bank robbery for funding, it was a stepping stone. Slick didn't know this, of course- most if not all of the Felt's criminal activity was kept under wraps until the time it occurred. This contributed greatly to the fact the more unwary Felt members were often captured and interrogated, Doze chief among them, though his temporal powers made trying to get any information out of him practically useless. Obviously the two who would be of best use when interrogated were Snowman and Crowbar, but the former was too adept to be captured, and even if she was it was likely of her own accord. Crowbar was too clever to let himself be caught, and would have kept a stuff upper lip until death, more than likely. Doc Scratch would have been the least useful to interrogate, clearly; it was near impossible to detain him in any way, shape, or form, and he was still an enigma to three quarters of the Midnight Crew.
Though Doc Scratch would not admit it to anyone, the only form of "interrogation" that seemed to he able to affect him in any way was the kind Spades Slick had subjected him to several days earlier. He would be caught untruthful if he said nothing would come of those sorts of endeavors. He was aware of Slick's healing process throughout what was almost a week that had passed and was glad he'd finally settled on wearing the sling to protect his stitches. He was also expecting him that night, and found it wonderfully coincidental that the Felt were gone. It made opening the door much easier on his mind, and when he did so he opened it wider than he would have if they were still present. He was greeted, strangely enough, with a faceful of flowers and Slick's grumbling of "You're a smug bastard and your face is stupid."
The subtle tang of the roses gently drifted upward; the fresh scent was another thing Doc Scratch rarely experienced. Carefully he accepted the bouquet from Slick, as if the roses were as fragile as glass. He looked down at them and a soft smile crossed his features, accompanied by an equally gentle blush. He'd never received flowers before- this was an absolute first.
"Why, thank you Slick." Scratch said, looking up to the other man. "That's the sweetest thing you've said to me all day."
It was the only thing, as well.
"It's good to see you again." His smile was genuine, however, as he held the bouquet carefully against one arm, looking to Slick with jovial eyes. "I should warn you about sneaking out to see me like this, but I know that you're aware of the risks. But I think it'd aggravate you a bit if I slipped into your headquarters." Perhaps the arrangement would fit, then.
2014-08-17 01:39:14 -
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Slick may not have been the smoothest when it came to romantic life, however he'll be damned if he's not going to at least try. His body language was stiff when the other accepted the roses. But, soon he relaxed at the gentle way the shorter had taken them, and had not thrown them back at Slick's face. That was much appreciated, seeing that this was the first time he's done something out of character as this, and would really appreciate it of everything went a bit according to plan. Maybe not solely on the straight route, but following the line and using it as a reference would be pretty damned good to the mobster.
The tint of a green blush on the other's features has Slick entirely relaxing, realizing he's somehow playing his cards right, and gives a nonchalant half smile at the appreciative words. "Well I ain't known to be a sweet talker, but'ta if ya say so." He shrugged subtly, with the shoulder that wasn't in the sling, and furrowed his brow at Scratch when he reminded Slick of the risks of appearing unannounced. "Yea, yea, yea, I fuckin' know-" he's cut off at the other's mention of not appearing at his own hideout, and pondered that point for a moment. Eventually, his brows raise a fraction of an inch, seeming intrigued at the thought of the other coming to the Crew's place, however he doesn't think it would be up to standards compared to the Manor. The taller always had knives and anything else hazardously sharp scattered about his room, Deuce liked to leave wires and pliers on the kitchen table, and Droog was usually quite fickle about the place being kept clean and up to pristine standards; it never stayed clean for long. It also reeked of nicotine and old booze, nothing like the Manor, an Slick doesn't particularly want Scratch seeing the place so unkept. "Uhh, yea, that's a good move on your part then. I mean, unless ya got some sorta twisted death wish, then by all means." Slick knows the other can't die by anyone else's hands, however that doesn't stop him from mentioning it anyway.
The shorter's quite content and happy expression makes his throat dry slightly, his hand at his side doing the nervous tick where he taps the points of his mechanical talons against the metal of his palm, creating a soft ting. Once he noticed he's doing such a tick, he stuffs his hand into his slack pocket, a bit quickly at that. He's not too sure if he should mention the food in his car or not, and finally settles upon doing so since either way, Scratch would be aware of it. "A'ight, I have some shit in the Caddy, and'duh, I was wonderin' if yad wanna go eat at the park or some shit... But then I remembered ya don't go out much, so this was a pretty shitty move on my part, I'll admit that, but'ta..." But what? Not everyone had some secret fascination with the night. In more ways then one, Slick was much like a cat of the night. His actions always depended upon his mood, and even then it wasn't a very dependable thing to assume how he'd react to a certain situation. He was a very prideful man, and often did shenanigans that even his Crew would question; like now. He was taking the phrase, 'keep your friends close, and your enemies closer' to a whole other level.
2014-08-17 02:45:12 -
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Doc Scratch blinked as Spades Slick began to go on about how he thought he'd messed up by thinking the two of them could go out to the park for dinner; in all honesty Scratch thought the notion was flattering. It seemed tonight would be full of firsts for him. He was still rocked by the fact he could captivate someone's thoughts like he did with Slick, but supposed he'd have to get used to it soon. He couldn't be flustered whenever Slick did or thought or said something that was kind to him, no matter how unused to the treatment he was whatsoever, it simply wasn't professional. That and he had no desire to come across as so easily won over to the other man.
"Slick, you do know I am fully capable of leaving the Manor whenever I so desire, right?" Scratch asked him duly, head cocked slightly. "I simply have not, for lack of cause to. If you wish to go somewhere, I certainly can accompany you."
Scratch almost felt embarrassed because he didn't have much to change into that was appropriate for a date in the park save his suit. He hoped Slick wouldn't think it odd he wore it. Then again, the man had seen him in his robe, so there really were not many reservations left. Scratch tried to stray from thoughts regarding the reservations that were indeed left. He noticed Slick's nervous habit, however, and deemed it endearing. It felt good to make someone nervous in this way, which he considered far more positive than when they were nervous for themselves and whether they'd be punished due to their behavior.
Doc Scratch would agree to going out with Spades Slick- it was foolish to regard it as anything less than a date. It was blindingly obvious that was what the outing was to be categorized, and some part of Scratch was waiting on edge and taut with... Excitement? Not exactly. It wasn't anxiety, though- anticipation, that was what it had to be. There was not much in day to day life that elicited the feeling of anticipation from Scratch, and while the emotion was unprecedented, it was gladly embraced by the First Guardian. He was driven to ensure Slick felt the same way- more than anything he wanted their relationship to be equally yoked. That didn't mean he'd give Slick flowers, but there were some things he could manage better.
2014-08-17 05:47:55 -
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When his name was spoken, a soft 'huh?' cane from him, focusing upon the other's blatant statement, and then letting his icy hue's gaze drop to the floor, off to the side, then back at Scratch.
"... Of course I fuckin' knew that. I was jus' bein' careful." He replied with an almost snarky attitude, not being able to keep up the embarrassed, and undoubtedly nervous, demeanor for long. His usual ignorance and aggression got in the way of such emotions lasting for more then a few moments or so.
"But'ta, if ya wanna, I think we should go now before I lose my nerve 'n' start attemptin' to avoid goin' out. It'll only last for so long." He sounded nonchalant, as if he were taking about the weather, but the words were indeed true. He didn't know how long he'd be able to keep mustering up this courage to test the waters. It was like crossing a river with stepping stones protruding from the surface. One wrong move, and he was as good as drowned. Whatever the two had going on between them, Slick was too enveloped in it that it almost... Scared him.
He knew one day it would blow up in his face, abruptly so, and he'd have no one to blame but himself. Most things didn't favor him much, so Slick would take whatever moves necessary to make this... Twisted relationship last. Even if it meant taking things at the pace like that of a snail, he'll do if with mild complaints and a damned smirk on his face.
With that in mind, he now notices that it's... Eerily quiet in the Manor. And was the door opened wider then usual, or was it just him? His blue hue glanced up into the opening of the door, confused before assuming either the entire Felt was asleep, out, or both. Honestly though, he didn't care much where the hell they were; he was more interested upon the Felt leader in front of him. Before moving, Slick took his hand out of his pocket, rubbing the back of his neck hesitantly, before stepping forward and offered an arm to Scratch like he's seen many couples do in Boxcars' movies.
"... If I'm doin' this shit wrong, lemme know, cause I'm doin' this shit blind." He grumbled, looking off to the side and refusing to make eye contact with the vibrantly colored orbs the other had, knowing it would make his skin prickle and he'd get as nervous as a boy inviting their date to prom. This really was like high school all over again, however instead of taking a girl for a quickie in the bathroom, he was actually going about things with effort and a bit of decency (if it can be called that).
If Scratch would have asked Slick about his attire, the mobster would have snorted and snickered. Only because he was wearing a suit himself, though more unkept then the opposing mobster's, the black button up having the few top buttons undone and the blazer was haphazardly fashion, and he certainly didn't plan on fixing it. Maybe a tie was in order to wear, but Slick really wasn't one for formalities to begin with, even if he was showing a softer and more affectionate side of himself.
2014-08-17 06:30:10 -
🌀
Doc Scratch really sort of felt bad for Spades by this point; he could tell the other man was struggling with this and trying his honest best to try and impress Scratch. It was uncharacteristic and he was uncomfortable, and Scratch didn't like him that way; he didn't want Slick to be so caught up in not making any mistakes, however minor, that he became stressed. So when Slick offered his free arm to him, he only paused a beat before looking at the bouquet he still held. "E-Excuse me a moment." He stumbled a bit on his words, and flinched a bit mentally, finding it embarrassing. Quickly, he ducked out of sight and hastened into the parlor, setting the flowers on the coffee table. No one would stumble upon them- and if they did they'd be at an utter loss. They were safe there, for now. Within moments he had returned, eyes creased apologetically. It was then he did loop his arm through Slick's, gently, as if it were the one nearest his wound. He smiled thinly then.
Scratch would follow wherever Slick led him- to the Cadillac, he was well aware. He didn't think the other man would be keen on walking several blocks, and nobody had ever told him not to get into cars with strange men. As he went however, keeping equal pace with the other man, he said quietly, "You needn't worry so much. If you make a mistake, it isn't as if I would become immediately hostile toward you. Accidents can be forgiven."
His eyes turned to the Crew leader, examining him.
"Please don't go on thinking like they can't. In honesty there is very little you could do that would genuinely anger me." As opposed to Slick, Scratch was a very patient man, almost unable to be roused on the point of lividity. The few things he could think of that would cause such a stir in him Spades Slick would not be capable of accomplishing. At least not on his own and at this particular point in time.
Doc Scratch smiled mutedly, in a manner he hoped the other man found encouraging somehow. He wanted Slick to be more relaxed when going about this process- personally he thought he wasn't much of a deal, not worth the whole nine yards some suitors went through. He was simply glad (and rather flattered by the fact) Spades Slick was actually trying. It was interesting to witness. Even if the other seemed very uncouth and brash and, for the most part, truly was, if anyone knew that didn't go all the way to his core, it was Scratch. Not because of his omniscience alone, but because of the fact he'd witnessed it moments ago with the flowers. It was touching Slick was making an effort to get it all to last, perhaps more so than the First Guardian could outwardly communicate.
2014-08-17 19:14:06 -
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Slick couldn't see the shorter's expression when he paused for the briefest of moments; he doesn't think he's ever been so impatient in his life with those couple seconds. Sure, he was a thin man with even thinner patience, however he felt like on the bridge of choking on air itself before Scratch had finally spoke. It took Slick by surprise that he had stammered, so much so that he turned to look at the porcelain male, a but perplexed himself as he vanished swiftly, and was back, the bouquet the gone. Oh, he just went to go put the flowers down. The Crew member had been as such a loss of what was going on that all he did was stand still, like a manikin. Though, he realized he'd stopped breathing when Doc finally looped his arm in his own, he forced himself to calm down and collect whatever nerves he had left to lead the other down the sidewalk. Admittedly, he was still quite nervous, a very foreign and unfamiliar feeling, one he wished would go away and stop pestering him.
So, when Scratch spoke in a gentle tone, almost as gentle as the arm lightly in his own, the taller blinked once with a slight glance down at him, and then visibly relaxed.
"Yea... A'ight." He mumbled, furrowing his raven brows for a moment as his tone sounded much more confident then he felt. It was only then he realized he really didn't have to worry. Doc didn't tend to lie, sure he could be vague and beat around the bush all day, Slick experienced this first hand during their first encounter, but Doc was indeed not a liar like himself. It brought some sort of comfort to hear and know that a couple small mistakes wasn't going to be the complete end of him. However, he wasn't so worried of the other losing his temper with him, that he was use to, but being turned down and deemed unworthy? That was a feeling he knew well, and certainly did not want such a feeling to be the affect of Scratch's words of disappointment. Nonetheless, he was much calmer and nonchalant when he opened the passenger side door, slipping his arm from the others and allowing him to slide in before shutting the door.
When he slides into the drivers side, he pauses, not able to help himself as he sort of stares for a moment at Scratch. The contrast of his suit and just him specifically was an odd sight to behold in his darkly colored car, especially with the night looking as if it were tempted to engulf such an innocent looking being. It was an odd sight was all, one he wouldn't mind seeing often either. His Cadillac could use some color anyw-no. No. Not Caddy, she's the only girl for him and he won't ever change her... Still. Scratch did look quite attractive with the contrasting darkness around him. Huh. Opposites really must attract, especially when they really shouldn't. It doesn't take long to fish his keys out from his pocket after he's done with his mental observation, jamming the object into the ignition and allowing the car to purr to life before casually driving down the road. He swore the the Cadillac had the scent of licorice not moments ago, but now it was wafting to a sweeter scent, and he already knew why before thinking much about it.
2014-08-17 20:50:42 -
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Spades had remembered to open the car door for him, which Doc Scratch certainly considered the basic and proper thing to be done in this situation. If Slick could remember something as simple as that, there might have been hope for him yet. Scratch would be sure to exercise whatever formalities he found necessary in these instances, and pay Slick back in kind for his attentions and manners. He always sought to lead by example, and he figured that this was largely the same. He certainly didn't expect Slick to be on his best behavior around the clock, oh no- in fact, he'd be a bit disappointed if he did. He found Spades Slick to be very interesting as he was, and would make no move to change it whatsoever.
Doc Scratch did find the Cadillac to be nice as it was as well, in accordance to the driver; Scratch would be hard-pressed to recall the last time he'd ridden in a car. He certainly knew how to drive one, though he had no material license. Even so, he sank into the passenger seat of the Cadillac carefully. Black was a color he wasn't against frequently, and his white skin stuck out against it noticeably. The car was nice, and Scratch certainly noticed the scent, the licorice Slick so adored and the dull tang of nicotine dwelling beneath it. In tandem they weren't so bad, though Scratch was used to the latter scent by now. Snowman smoked as well, and Stitch had cigars, though the man had the sense not to smoke them in his workshop. It wasn't as if secondhand smoke had any effect on Scratch anyway- and he considered it better than the scent of alcohol.
He'd been outside the Manor for not even ten minutes and already felt slightly thrilled by the notion of being out again. Already the clinical cool of the green house was seeping off him and into the warm, almost muggy night, clinging to the back of his neck before dissipating entirely. He knew Slick had stared at him for a few moments just then and it had made his heart pound again, a warmer flush overtaking his face, which helped in warming him. He folded his hands in his lap after buckling his seat belt, almost looking stiff with formality. Still, his expression was that of polite pleasure, as if he were the one being entertained. In a way their roles had switched, with Slick being the receiver of a guest. Scratch was interested to watch how he'd handle it.
2014-08-18 03:54:48 -
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The night was still quite young, there was a coincidental full moon looking over the two in the Cadillac, which would certainly help a bit when maneuvering in the dark too, and Slick was doing a small mental checklist to make sure he had everything he'd need. He had the candles, and the the food in the back seat; he also had a lighter in his back pocket since using his shadow magick for lighting said candles wouldn't necessarily bring much light, and he didn't need to bump into some rabid dog in the night. Damn it, he hated dogs, with their signature scent of dirt and grime, the way they drooled, hell they were messier then Slick was. That aside, he just felt having some original fire was nice anyway, he could be flexible sometimes... If he put his mind to it... As he contemplated his thoughts, he self consciously reached for the radio, pressing a dial as one of his legs shifted up to steer the wheel for a moment with his knee, and then grip the wheel once more with his hand. Some soft jazz came through then, and at that point Slick zoned out completely into the music. At some point, a piano solo game into play, and he caught himself humming along whilst his fingers tapped invisible keys in sync to the song along the steering wheel. It wasn't until he made a right turn that led to the park did he remember that Scratch was still there. In a way, once he remembered this, he scolded himself by bitting his tongue and swallowing dryly, but quietly. However, he didn't stay scorning himself for long as an amusing thought crossed his mind.
Scratch looked like a legitimate, life size porcelain doll sitting in his car seat. The way he just refused to relax into the seat or slouch, even upon just a glance, Slick noticed. It made his embarrassment and nervousness dissipate to nothing, and the softest of snickers escaped him before he was laughing quietly, not able to help himself.
"Ya look too damned proper." He pointed out as he parked the car, not disappointed at the other, seeing that he'd half smiled in amusement as he said the words, and shook his head to himself as he cut the engine off, the headlights allowing darkness to lead him, and slid out of the car before closing his door, and appearing at the passengers side door to open it. Once Scratch had unbuckled himself (holy shit he buckled in? It's only a couple blocks... Fuck, why is that adorable?) and got out the Cadillac, Slick shut his door and opened the back seat. Using the blanket as a sort of makeshift basket, he put all the candles in it, then the food atop, and tied the four corners together, only briefly using both arms since he was well aware Scratch would scold him for taking it out of the sling.
"Ya like dark places, right? Eh, if not, I can always improvise." He shrugs at the last part to himself, closing the backseat and carrying the blanket full of items by the large knot.
It hits him then that he wouldn't be able to interlock arms with Scratch if he's carrying the food with one hand, and the others in a sling. Hm. That's a problem, quite the massive one too, to Slick at least since he's found that he rather enjoys doing such a task. It doesn't take long to decide upon taking the sling off, but before Scratch can argue about it, he's holding a hand up that isn't holding the food.
"Don't argue with it, I ain't gonna tear the fuckin' stitches by a damned stroll in the park. I'm reckless, but I ain't /that/ ignorant. 'Sides, I wanna do it. Jus' lemme." He puts the sling carefully into the inner pocket of his blazer, then offers the arm to the shorter, raising a raven brow expectantly.
2014-08-18 05:19:16