[For a while, it's quiet on his side. The noise is still there like it always is, but the pause - it's hefty. The feeling of it like a backroom, thick yet empty of company.]
[Because that wasn't the question he was expecting. It wasn't even a question he'd thought she'd ask. And as drips bounce and ripple off the water's murky surface, he doesn't hear them at all. All he hears is someone else. A group of people, hunkering down in the dim firelight of a lantern.]
[Greed slides his finger into the bottle.] Door's open, but the place still needs a lot of work. As long as that's fine with you - [Moving, the Sin drags himself up onto his feet.] - sure, why not. Can't promise it'll be much, though.
[The bottle swings, knocking once against his hip. Dnk.] Keep it. Whatever reason you got, it doesn't matter to me. Some secrets are better left that, right? [The quiet drops, and the former homunculus shows all of his teeth.]
Not exactly looking my best, so try not to hold it too much against me when I get back. [A little bit of liquor can only do so much, after all.]
[well, that makes it less awkward, thankfully. except although she wants to say, "thanks" and leave it at that, it's only fair that he knows what he is signing himself up for. he's not silco, after all, and not everyone can handle her internal horrors with open arms. so unfortunately, she has to tell him the reason whether he suggests to keep it to herself or not.]
It's whatever. I don't need much. Just a space. I've got my stuff packed in a bag already.
But.
Just.
[she bites on the inside of her cheek for a moment.]
If I start... acting really crazy. Or do something crazy like... trying to end my life in some way, I need you to kick me or knock my lights out.
I don't think... talking me down is going to work. Not when my...head is this bad.
[hence why she is going to him and not anyone else she cares about. they would want her to talk it out or gust out her feelings when... she is tired of talking.]
[Greed heads over to one of the machines, picking up his vest. He slides one arm in, then the other - the dust of yesterdays, shimmering red under his lantern's steady glow.]
[His thumb finds his sunglasses and as he wrenches their earpieces wide, he pauses again. No, this might not have been the conversation he expected, but maybe he should have. Everyone has a story, after all. A history. Things that chase them, no matter how long or far they run.]
[The former homunculus flattens the forks of his tongue behind his teeth. He could easily say no. Could easily refuse her, and leave it at that. But even though his core may be gone, his nature - it won't let him. No matter how bitter he may feel about the whole thing.]
["If you turned your back on something you wanted - "]
[Greed leans forward, bowing into his sunglasses.] Yeah, I can do that. Just hope you know what you're asking. [Cold - that's his tone, now. Cold, but it isn't at her. It isn't even at anything she's hoping he'll do. It's at the idea, the very reality, that she even needs it to be done in the first place.]
[The Sin scoffs, and a bristle like shaken soot slinks from his nose.] Back out? Who do you take me for? [One press of his claws, and he slides his sunglasses soundlessly up his nose.] There's no regrets, Jinx. Not when it comes to me.
[she says nothing on her side, but there's a sense of understanding and "hangs up" their connection by untying the blindfold off her face. if it wasn't for her tether with arthur, she wouldn't have been able to tap into her friend's mind for the map of the city, coming and going like a revolving door for directions. she just hopes he is just as nonchalant and cool about it as his attitude.
in time, she reaches the double down saloon with a suitcase in one hand and dragging a steel bat across the pavement in the other. there's a backpack clutching tight to her too, overly stuffed with who knows what inside. she is completely waterlogged; unlike her items, being an aquamancer comes with its nuisances, and one of many is continuously being soaked to the bone whenever she invokes her abilities. having her clothes and hair stick to her skin irked her in the beginning, but thanks to time, she has grown accustomed to the feel. she no longer has the urge to wipe the droplets from her nose or eyelashes with her palms or her forearms.
the bluenette pushes through the door, using her soggy shoulder while dragging her things inside. how funny her life is, though; she burnt down her home (the last drop bar) in zaun only for her to end right back into another one. jinx can't help but wonder if pubs are meant to be her true home no matter what world or dimension she crosses.]
[greed is right about one thing: the place does need a bit of love and care, except she isn't going to be the one to give it what it needs. getting attached to things or people is what her "curse" hungers for, and it has had its three-course meals lately. wheeling over her things to the bar, she takes her seat in the stool and lightly taps her fingernail on the countertop—a forced habit she did when chuck bartended and she wanted his attention for juice.]
[It takes him a few hours to find his way back. In comparison to Central, the city is massive - its winding streets and off-shooting alleyways, enough to leave anyone a little bewildered. Eventually though, he finds the right street; its main drag, scattered with the shells of things left behind.]
[Greed twirls lax on his heel, narrowly avoiding a side mirror hanging off its car by a thread. He's not sure what might be waiting for him. There's a good chance she swore the whole thing off, instead turning to another place to haunt. He wouldn't blame her if she did. She doesn't know him, not really, and people like that - it's never easy to gain their trust. Especially if the world's been cruel enough to put her in the very situation in the first place.]
[So, when the door swings open, the former homunculus doesn't bother searching. More, he keeps up with the status quo of things. And as his hand engulfs the mask chained around his face, he tips his wrist, causing its metal clips to break free of his sunglasses. He sets it down on an old barrel close to the entrance, leaving its links to drop and jingle over the side. Truth be told, he wasn't lying when he said he wouldn't be looking his best. His vest may be clean, but what he's been up to these past few hours sticks to him like glue. Bits of grit stuff thick under his nails, a smear of oil and tar creases across his face. Greed grunts, shrugging out of his vest. It, like the mask, finds a home on the flat top of the barrel as he languidly strikes a match against the building's broken-brick wall.]
[The Sin taps a cigarette twice on the frame of the door before bringing it to his lips. And it's then, right then, that he notices it: the ticking on the counter, the drum of it, like an old, impatient customer. Greed's mouth stretches and as he tips the end of the match against his smoke, he inhales through his smile, forcing whiffs of tobacco to ribbon between his teeth.]
[He shakes out the match, tossing it to the floor.] Looks like you found the place just fine. Hope I didn't keep ya waitin' too long. [The match crunches under his heel and when he lifts it, only a scorch remains.] Don't suppose you're the drinking sort. [The place does need a lot of work, and most of its stock has already been picked clean. However, that doesn't mean he hasn't found a few things squirreled away. They're dregs in comparison to what he's used to. But even a little is better than nothing when it comes to the end of the world.]
[The former homunculus sidewinds around the edge of the counter to slip behind it; the run of his eyes, chasing her as he goes. As put together as she'd been through the Murmur, here - she looks like she's been drowned. Like the rain had come pouring down, and every shelter simply refused her or spat her out. It would be funny, any other time. How similar she is to them. To all of them, taking a gamble, and deciding he was the better choice.]
[Whatever humor there could be though, he doesn't find it.]
[Greed spreads his legs to drop behind the bar.] Eh, not working with everything I'd normally have, but - [The tips of his claws click through his supplies.] - well, whatever the case, I'm sure there's something I can find.
[when the noise of someone entering the establishment reaches her ears, jinx twists to glance over her shoulder, her index freezing in mid-tap to drink in the appearance of the man who she will be staying with for the day. the muck on him doesn't faze her in the slightest; her biological parents worked in the mines when she was way young—the stench of axle grease filled every space of their home, mainly the living room.
still, the zaunite studies the former homunculus carefully as he maneuvers his way behind the counter, cueing her to shed her backpack off her shoulders then onto the table, the bag creaking a weighted thump.]
Nope, thaaat would be my big sis. When she's really down on her luck, that's where you'll find her. At the bottom of a mug or pit fighting. ...Juice is fine.
[as she reaches for the zipper of her bag, jinx pauses abruptly to smack her hand on the counter. ... how strange. but what makes it weirder is she then shoots a look to the left of them, towards nothing, with her brows raising as she scrunches up her face immediately after.]
What? There was a bug. You saw it there. I don't want it near my stuff.
[except there was no bug either. and just like that moment never happened, she returns to unfastening and rummaging through her backpack.]
[The Sin's eyebrows touch together as he tilts a can out from the line up underneath the counter, leaving it balanced on the tip of his finger. And hasn't he heard the story a million times before. Hasn't he seen it, over and over again. When bad luck's all a person has, and the only comfort, the only love they can find, is at the bottom of the drink.]
[Greed's nail scratches against the tin tab, hooking it with a persistent whine.] Sounds like a lot of people I used to know. [With a purr on his lips, he tightens his knuckle, and the hard-sharp point of his claw pops the can open with a fzzt of condensed air.] Don't know how good it'll be, but -
[The rest of his sentence gets cut short - her unprompted smack, causing him to freeze mid-stand. It isn't in a startled way, nor is it fazed. More, it's in the way someone might stop in the middle of a conversation - one that's suddenly taken a wild, left turn. The former homunculus puckers his lips together and as he straightens his back, he sets the can down lightly on the counter. Its orange shell turns muted under the hum of his lantern; its trademarked logo, scuffed and worn.]
[With a jerk of the wrist, he plucks his finger out.] Ha - ! Can't blame you there. Wouldn't want anyone touching what's mine, either. But I'm not interested in stealing from you, if that's what you're worried about. [Though, she wasn't really talking to him, was she? No, it had simply been one of her ghosts. One of her ghosts lingering where no one else could see, and as he follows her line of sight, a brief frown tugs at his lip. There, then gone again.]
Gotta say, I do like your avarice. Not about to let anyone take what's yours, are you? [The former homunculus slumps his shoulders, turning towards the back wall. He ashes his cigarette once in a nearby sink, and something (something with too many legs, too many antennae) skitters out of the drain.]
So, your sister - she just as impressive as you? [The building might be on the shittier side of shit, but old habits - they're easy to slip back into. It's almost like being back in Dublith. Where the wee-morning hours ran long, and idle conversations burnt themselves out like waning, midnight oil.]
[Greed pushes the cigarette back into the corner of his mouth as he knuckles a bottle off the shelf. He unscrews the top with a practiced flick of his thumb, letting to fall to the floor like a single-dropped penny.] Ah, unless that topic's off limits -
[her eyes fixate deep into her bag, and the first thing she reveals is a pistol—crafted like any other except dyed in vibrant colors like pink, blue, and green. her doing, obviously, because what gunman would decorate their weapon in such a way? after a quick inspection, she sets it down on the counter and returns to searching.]
I... don't like sharing. Not if I don't have to.
[there's a hint of possessive twang in speech. because just the thought of having to split what belongs to her with someone else (particularly a stranger) brings slight sourness into her mouth. she's gotten a lot better about it, though; it used to make her stomach churn and had her fingernails dig into her skin. but thanks to her daughter, the idea of it only slightly repulses her. the next thing she withdraws from her pack is an explosive. like the gun, it's tagged, yet the appearance of it seems rather childish. hers, maybe? jinx sets that next to the gun. ]
Vi is the strongest person I know and has a hotter head than mine. [debatable.] She can make a guy three times my size cry for their mommy and whimper like some pathetic puppy just by throwing one punch.
[He watches her through what little is left of the back-shelf mirror. The bits that remain are splintered and in their spiderweb cracks, he sees her doubled over. Every inch of her, broken and shattered between the panes. If he were a different man, a different creature, he might find something terribly poetic about the whole thing. But he's not. No, what he sees is simply another. Another person, another something, trying to hold and grip onto what little the world (this one, whatever one came before) has given her.]
[Greed pinches his sunglasses by the frame, dragging them off his face.] And why should you? That's the thing everyone gets wrong about greed. That it's somehow bad to want what's yours. [A flake of ash unravels off his cigarette, drifting into nothing.] Never understood it myself. Humans have this idea that it's somehow a bad thing. That there's some kind of hierarchy to it. Way I see it, everyone has something they want. And if they say they don't? They're lying, simple as that.
[Finally, he opens his eyes and in the split of the mirror, the purple of them shines dim; their hint of red dropping down, down, down like a hot piece of sunken metal. The former homunculus inhales through his smile, and the cherry at the end of his cigarette hisses hungry at the paper.]
She can, can she? Ha - ! Sounds like my type of gal. Always did like a woman who could show 'em a thing or two. [He finishes his smoke with a deep inhale before tossing it into the bottom of the sink.] From what I'm hearing, the two of you made a pretty good team. [He doesn't have to guess, though. Something about the way she says it - Vi isn't here. And ah, isn't that one more thing she's lost along the way.]
[Greed lifts his gaze, and the slits of his eyes shake to slivers. The decorations on the gun, the explosives: there's a personalized touch to them. Something that defines them, that makes them hers, and for a second, the Sin's upper lip curls. Because he'd been the same, hadn't he? An alchemist who made things with his own signature, no matter how wild and ridiculous the end result could be. It pings at him in a way that's subtle. The notion of it, like a smell he almost forgot.]
[The Sin folds his sunglasses up on the prep station.] Y'know, that's some pretty impressive work. Gunna guess those are your doing - that right? [He thumbs behind him at the gun and explosive.] Gahaha - ! You really are full of surprises, Jinx.
[He takes the bottle up, lifting it towards his mouth.] Well, like I said. Don't worry about it. Not really a fan of using a gun myself. [Up, goes the bottle, and whatever's inside quickly drains down his throat. Gulp by gulp, it goes - that insatiableness of his, all but sucking it dry.]
[Greed sets the bottle back on the counter.] So, what's your plan, then? After staying here, I mean.
[as the stranger rambles about his point of view about belongings, her lip twitches into a smile—it's small and a little hard to see with her face buried deep within her backpack, but it's there. his beliefs are a lot like silco's and hers, and it's a little refreshing to know that there are people beyond just her and her old man who think the same way they do.
her daughter attempted to explain to her once how people feel uncomfortable whenever she'd claimed things as her own, especially when it comes to people. that claiming takes away their freedom and independence—the very thing her city had been struggling for. but is it so wrong to be the first of someone you care for, and if that person decides to do something drastic like... bringing a love interest that could change the entire dynamic of your life and theirs, that you should have a say in it?
it's important that everyone gets along with everyone, and if they're no good for you, then they can't be good for them. after all, you were in their life first, and you should continue to be first. how is that possessive? how is that being greedy? ]
Yeah, well, my sis is only into women in uniforms, so you'll have to stick with howling and licking your own sacks.
[ how vulgar, but also a very, very subtle warning to not pull any moves on her. not that violet can't handle herself, but again, what kind of baby sister would she be if she wasn't overly protective?] — But good eye; when I'm not crashing parties and being the author of people's nightmares, I do artwork and invent things. And you're in charge of keeping them company and away from me while I'm... here. Dunno where I'm going after this; all of my best work is improvised.
[The former homunculus settles his back against the lip of the counter. The curve of his spine bends into the edge of it, leaving the rest of him to slouch at a lax, half-cocked slant. If they had the time, maybe he could be a little more honest. A little more open. However, this place - it doesn't exactly afford the pleasure. Where the hours can slip away, and a drink or two can loosen even the most closely guarded stories.]
[Not that he would know, personally. Like everything else, whatever buzz from the liquor he's had before has been slim at best. A fuzz until that 'Stone of his kicked in to burn it all away.]
[Greed lets his chin fall and in between the tightness of his grin, his laughter sneaks on through. It's soft in the beginning - a little hiss, curling from the corners of his mouth in drifts of smoke. The former homunculus slaps his hand violently on the prep station and as he tosses his head back, the bark that comes out of him is loud. It echoes in every bottle, every shard of glass, like a roar. The wheeze of it, breathing out sooty and pitched.]
[He settles, and the flicker inside the lantern swaying between his horns dims with him.] All right, all right. Don't have to tell me twice, Bluebird. [He raises both hands up in mock surrender, and a drip of gold wax plops from the lantern's cage, staining the floor below.] Can't blame her, though a shame she only goes for the ones in blue. Never been a fan of the government myself.
[Which shouldn't be surprising. Men like him, monsters like him: they don't really do well with law and order, do they?]
[Greed laces his ankles, folding his arms across his chest.] Sounds like someone else I used to know. Tended to add his own flair to whatever he was making. You'd probably like him - he's just as much of a pissant as you. [He starts, the admiration in his tone curt and to the point. The Sin arches his eyebrow and as his lips curl, he gives the roof of his mouth a long suck. His pause, amused.]
Oh - ? Is that right? Giving me orders now? [His tail wanders at his side - lifting, drooping, then arching again.] Sure, why not. But keep in mind who you're talkin' to, hmn? Never been very good at following anyone else.
[Still, she's here. She's here for one reason or another and as the Sin settles his palms back on the prep counter, he sluggishly pushes himself forward. The backs of his heels, clicking twice against the floor's worn wood.] Eh, don't worry about it. Not like I'm going anywhere anytime soon. I'll hang onto 'em until you're ready.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[Because that wasn't the question he was expecting. It wasn't even a question he'd thought she'd ask. And as drips bounce and ripple off the water's murky surface, he doesn't hear them at all. All he hears is someone else. A group of people, hunkering down in the dim firelight of a lantern.]
[Greed slides his finger into the bottle.] Door's open, but the place still needs a lot of work. As long as that's fine with you - [Moving, the Sin drags himself up onto his feet.] - sure, why not. Can't promise it'll be much, though.
[The bottle swings, knocking once against his hip. Dnk.] Keep it. Whatever reason you got, it doesn't matter to me. Some secrets are better left that, right? [The quiet drops, and the former homunculus shows all of his teeth.]
Not exactly looking my best, so try not to hold it too much against me when I get back. [A little bit of liquor can only do so much, after all.]
cw: mention of suicide
It's whatever. I don't need much. Just a space. I've got my stuff packed in a bag already.
But.
Just.
[she bites on the inside of her cheek for a moment.]
If I start... acting really crazy. Or do something crazy like... trying to end my life in some way, I need you to kick me or knock my lights out.
I don't think... talking me down is going to work. Not when my...head is this bad.
[hence why she is going to him and not anyone else she cares about. they would want her to talk it out or gust out her feelings when... she is tired of talking.]
If you want to back out, I get it.
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[His thumb finds his sunglasses and as he wrenches their earpieces wide, he pauses again. No, this might not have been the conversation he expected, but maybe he should have. Everyone has a story, after all. A history. Things that chase them, no matter how long or far they run.]
[The former homunculus flattens the forks of his tongue behind his teeth. He could easily say no. Could easily refuse her, and leave it at that. But even though his core may be gone, his nature - it won't let him. No matter how bitter he may feel about the whole thing.]
["If you turned your back on something you wanted - "]
[Greed leans forward, bowing into his sunglasses.] Yeah, I can do that. Just hope you know what you're asking. [Cold - that's his tone, now. Cold, but it isn't at her. It isn't even at anything she's hoping he'll do. It's at the idea, the very reality, that she even needs it to be done in the first place.]
[The Sin scoffs, and a bristle like shaken soot slinks from his nose.] Back out? Who do you take me for? [One press of his claws, and he slides his sunglasses soundlessly up his nose.] There's no regrets, Jinx. Not when it comes to me.
Go on ahead. Shouldn't take me long to get back.
action;
in time, she reaches the double down saloon with a suitcase in one hand and dragging a steel bat across the pavement in the other. there's a backpack clutching tight to her too, overly stuffed with who knows what inside. she is completely waterlogged; unlike her items, being an aquamancer comes with its nuisances, and one of many is continuously being soaked to the bone whenever she invokes her abilities. having her clothes and hair stick to her skin irked her in the beginning, but thanks to time, she has grown accustomed to the feel. she no longer has the urge to wipe the droplets from her nose or eyelashes with her palms or her forearms.
the bluenette pushes through the door, using her soggy shoulder while dragging her things inside. how funny her life is, though; she burnt down her home (the last drop bar) in zaun only for her to end right back into another one. jinx can't help but wonder if pubs are meant to be her true home no matter what world or dimension she crosses.]
[greed is right about one thing: the place does need a bit of love and care, except she isn't going to be the one to give it what it needs. getting attached to things or people is what her "curse" hungers for, and it has had its three-course meals lately. wheeling over her things to the bar, she takes her seat in the stool and lightly taps her fingernail on the countertop—a forced habit she did when chuck bartended and she wanted his attention for juice.]
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[Greed twirls lax on his heel, narrowly avoiding a side mirror hanging off its car by a thread. He's not sure what might be waiting for him. There's a good chance she swore the whole thing off, instead turning to another place to haunt. He wouldn't blame her if she did. She doesn't know him, not really, and people like that - it's never easy to gain their trust. Especially if the world's been cruel enough to put her in the very situation in the first place.]
[So, when the door swings open, the former homunculus doesn't bother searching. More, he keeps up with the status quo of things. And as his hand engulfs the mask chained around his face, he tips his wrist, causing its metal clips to break free of his sunglasses. He sets it down on an old barrel close to the entrance, leaving its links to drop and jingle over the side. Truth be told, he wasn't lying when he said he wouldn't be looking his best. His vest may be clean, but what he's been up to these past few hours sticks to him like glue. Bits of grit stuff thick under his nails, a smear of oil and tar creases across his face. Greed grunts, shrugging out of his vest. It, like the mask, finds a home on the flat top of the barrel as he languidly strikes a match against the building's broken-brick wall.]
[The Sin taps a cigarette twice on the frame of the door before bringing it to his lips. And it's then, right then, that he notices it: the ticking on the counter, the drum of it, like an old, impatient customer. Greed's mouth stretches and as he tips the end of the match against his smoke, he inhales through his smile, forcing whiffs of tobacco to ribbon between his teeth.]
[He shakes out the match, tossing it to the floor.] Looks like you found the place just fine. Hope I didn't keep ya waitin' too long. [The match crunches under his heel and when he lifts it, only a scorch remains.] Don't suppose you're the drinking sort. [The place does need a lot of work, and most of its stock has already been picked clean. However, that doesn't mean he hasn't found a few things squirreled away. They're dregs in comparison to what he's used to. But even a little is better than nothing when it comes to the end of the world.]
[The former homunculus sidewinds around the edge of the counter to slip behind it; the run of his eyes, chasing her as he goes. As put together as she'd been through the Murmur, here - she looks like she's been drowned. Like the rain had come pouring down, and every shelter simply refused her or spat her out. It would be funny, any other time. How similar she is to them. To all of them, taking a gamble, and deciding he was the better choice.]
[Whatever humor there could be though, he doesn't find it.]
[Greed spreads his legs to drop behind the bar.] Eh, not working with everything I'd normally have, but - [The tips of his claws click through his supplies.] - well, whatever the case, I'm sure there's something I can find.
cw: schizophrenia + hallucination
still, the zaunite studies the former homunculus carefully as he maneuvers his way behind the counter, cueing her to shed her backpack off her shoulders then onto the table, the bag creaking a weighted thump.]
Nope, thaaat would be my big sis. When she's really down on her luck, that's where you'll find her. At the bottom of a mug or pit fighting. ...Juice is fine.
[as she reaches for the zipper of her bag, jinx pauses abruptly to smack her hand on the counter. ... how strange. but what makes it weirder is she then shoots a look to the left of them, towards nothing, with her brows raising as she scrunches up her face immediately after.]
What? There was a bug. You saw it there. I don't want it near my stuff.
[except there was no bug either. and just like that moment never happened, she returns to unfastening and rummaging through her backpack.]
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[Greed's nail scratches against the tin tab, hooking it with a persistent whine.] Sounds like a lot of people I used to know. [With a purr on his lips, he tightens his knuckle, and the hard-sharp point of his claw pops the can open with a fzzt of condensed air.] Don't know how good it'll be, but -
[The rest of his sentence gets cut short - her unprompted smack, causing him to freeze mid-stand. It isn't in a startled way, nor is it fazed. More, it's in the way someone might stop in the middle of a conversation - one that's suddenly taken a wild, left turn. The former homunculus puckers his lips together and as he straightens his back, he sets the can down lightly on the counter. Its orange shell turns muted under the hum of his lantern; its trademarked logo, scuffed and worn.]
[With a jerk of the wrist, he plucks his finger out.] Ha - ! Can't blame you there. Wouldn't want anyone touching what's mine, either. But I'm not interested in stealing from you, if that's what you're worried about. [Though, she wasn't really talking to him, was she? No, it had simply been one of her ghosts. One of her ghosts lingering where no one else could see, and as he follows her line of sight, a brief frown tugs at his lip. There, then gone again.]
Gotta say, I do like your avarice. Not about to let anyone take what's yours, are you? [The former homunculus slumps his shoulders, turning towards the back wall. He ashes his cigarette once in a nearby sink, and something (something with too many legs, too many antennae) skitters out of the drain.]
So, your sister - she just as impressive as you? [The building might be on the shittier side of shit, but old habits - they're easy to slip back into. It's almost like being back in Dublith. Where the wee-morning hours ran long, and idle conversations burnt themselves out like waning, midnight oil.]
[Greed pushes the cigarette back into the corner of his mouth as he knuckles a bottle off the shelf. He unscrews the top with a practiced flick of his thumb, letting to fall to the floor like a single-dropped penny.] Ah, unless that topic's off limits -
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I... don't like sharing. Not if I don't have to.
[there's a hint of possessive twang in speech. because just the thought of having to split what belongs to her with someone else (particularly a stranger) brings slight sourness into her mouth. she's gotten a lot better about it, though; it used to make her stomach churn and had her fingernails dig into her skin. but thanks to her daughter, the idea of it only slightly repulses her. the next thing she withdraws from her pack is an explosive. like the gun, it's tagged, yet the appearance of it seems rather childish. hers, maybe? jinx sets that next to the gun. ]
Vi is the strongest person I know and has a hotter head than mine. [debatable.] She can make a guy three times my size cry for their mommy and whimper like some pathetic puppy just by throwing one punch.
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[Greed pinches his sunglasses by the frame, dragging them off his face.] And why should you? That's the thing everyone gets wrong about greed. That it's somehow bad to want what's yours. [A flake of ash unravels off his cigarette, drifting into nothing.] Never understood it myself. Humans have this idea that it's somehow a bad thing. That there's some kind of hierarchy to it. Way I see it, everyone has something they want. And if they say they don't? They're lying, simple as that.
[Finally, he opens his eyes and in the split of the mirror, the purple of them shines dim; their hint of red dropping down, down, down like a hot piece of sunken metal. The former homunculus inhales through his smile, and the cherry at the end of his cigarette hisses hungry at the paper.]
She can, can she? Ha - ! Sounds like my type of gal. Always did like a woman who could show 'em a thing or two. [He finishes his smoke with a deep inhale before tossing it into the bottom of the sink.] From what I'm hearing, the two of you made a pretty good team. [He doesn't have to guess, though. Something about the way she says it - Vi isn't here. And ah, isn't that one more thing she's lost along the way.]
[Greed lifts his gaze, and the slits of his eyes shake to slivers. The decorations on the gun, the explosives: there's a personalized touch to them. Something that defines them, that makes them hers, and for a second, the Sin's upper lip curls. Because he'd been the same, hadn't he? An alchemist who made things with his own signature, no matter how wild and ridiculous the end result could be. It pings at him in a way that's subtle. The notion of it, like a smell he almost forgot.]
[The Sin folds his sunglasses up on the prep station.] Y'know, that's some pretty impressive work. Gunna guess those are your doing - that right? [He thumbs behind him at the gun and explosive.] Gahaha - ! You really are full of surprises, Jinx.
[He takes the bottle up, lifting it towards his mouth.] Well, like I said. Don't worry about it. Not really a fan of using a gun myself. [Up, goes the bottle, and whatever's inside quickly drains down his throat. Gulp by gulp, it goes - that insatiableness of his, all but sucking it dry.]
[Greed sets the bottle back on the counter.] So, what's your plan, then? After staying here, I mean.
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her daughter attempted to explain to her once how people feel uncomfortable whenever she'd claimed things as her own, especially when it comes to people. that claiming takes away their freedom and independence—the very thing her city had been struggling for. but is it so wrong to be the first of someone you care for, and if that person decides to do something drastic like... bringing a love interest that could change the entire dynamic of your life and theirs, that you should have a say in it?
it's important that everyone gets along with everyone, and if they're no good for you, then they can't be good for them. after all, you were in their life first, and you should continue to be first. how is that possessive? how is that being greedy? ]
Yeah, well, my sis is only into women in uniforms, so you'll have to stick with howling and licking your own sacks.
[ how vulgar, but also a very, very subtle warning to not pull any moves on her. not that violet can't handle herself, but again, what kind of baby sister would she be if she wasn't overly protective?] — But good eye; when I'm not crashing parties and being the author of people's nightmares, I do artwork and invent things. And you're in charge of keeping them company and away from me while I'm... here. Dunno where I'm going after this; all of my best work is improvised.
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[Not that he would know, personally. Like everything else, whatever buzz from the liquor he's had before has been slim at best. A fuzz until that 'Stone of his kicked in to burn it all away.]
[Greed lets his chin fall and in between the tightness of his grin, his laughter sneaks on through. It's soft in the beginning - a little hiss, curling from the corners of his mouth in drifts of smoke. The former homunculus slaps his hand violently on the prep station and as he tosses his head back, the bark that comes out of him is loud. It echoes in every bottle, every shard of glass, like a roar. The wheeze of it, breathing out sooty and pitched.]
[He settles, and the flicker inside the lantern swaying between his horns dims with him.] All right, all right. Don't have to tell me twice, Bluebird. [He raises both hands up in mock surrender, and a drip of gold wax plops from the lantern's cage, staining the floor below.] Can't blame her, though a shame she only goes for the ones in blue. Never been a fan of the government myself.
[Which shouldn't be surprising. Men like him, monsters like him: they don't really do well with law and order, do they?]
[Greed laces his ankles, folding his arms across his chest.] Sounds like someone else I used to know. Tended to add his own flair to whatever he was making. You'd probably like him - he's just as much of a pissant as you. [He starts, the admiration in his tone curt and to the point. The Sin arches his eyebrow and as his lips curl, he gives the roof of his mouth a long suck. His pause, amused.]
Oh - ? Is that right? Giving me orders now? [His tail wanders at his side - lifting, drooping, then arching again.] Sure, why not. But keep in mind who you're talkin' to, hmn? Never been very good at following anyone else.
[Still, she's here. She's here for one reason or another and as the Sin settles his palms back on the prep counter, he sluggishly pushes himself forward. The backs of his heels, clicking twice against the floor's worn wood.] Eh, don't worry about it. Not like I'm going anywhere anytime soon. I'll hang onto 'em until you're ready.