Heine Rammsteiner (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
straydogstrut) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kyouyasangels_inc2013-12-31 05:35 am
straydogstrut) wrote in kyouyasangels_inc2013-12-31 05:35 am
(no subject)
No. Fuck off.
You've gotten sloppy. And lazier. This is going to end up as a failure, as usual.
[Siiiiigh] Two days of my life that I'll never get back. Two days, tops, then you'll give up and I can go do what I've got to do.
Start thinking of ways to repay me that don't include your shitty paychecks. Even Badou would laugh and he went after a pussy for cash.
You've gotten sloppy. And lazier. This is going to end up as a failure, as usual.
[Siiiiigh] Two days of my life that I'll never get back. Two days, tops, then you'll give up and I can go do what I've got to do.
Start thinking of ways to repay me that don't include your shitty paychecks. Even Badou would laugh and he went after a pussy for cash.
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[waves her hand]
Hey there, nice get-up. How long's it take you to zip into those every morning? Maybe when whoever you're bitchin' about repays you, you can buy pants that fit.
[takes out a bottle of beer and pops it open, taking a swig and then holding it out in offering]
Finest Virgon brew beer, if you've got the room. [laughs]
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Two months? Try your entire life. My tear ducts are about as thin as your plucking job there. [Because he can really talk when it comes to eyebrows???? You could learn a thing or two, man]
Thanks for being concerned, complete stranger bitch, but my pants fit just fine. Stop looking at my ass if it bothers you so much.
[Just
leans away, voice clipped]
No thanks. [Then, because curiosity killed the mutt] Virgon?
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I wouldn't be the only one worrying about things being a little too much on the thin side if you catch my drift, kid. [she looks pointedly at his crotch, then back up at his face, gaze steady, unwavering]
But now that you mention it, guess I could take advice from someone with invisibrows. What look you goin' for there, freshly shaved Cylon?
[snort]
Hey no problem, uptight kinky albino freak. Wish I could look at your ass, unfortunately for both of us looks like you're a little outta luck on the whole real estate thing. Maybe give it a few more years, lose the rest of that baby fat.
[she shrugs and takes another long drink]
Yeah, Virgon, like the planet...? [she narrows her eyes at him before shaking her head and continuing] Only this is from the actual planet, not the exported stuff. It's the fresher batch. Dunno how it got here with me, but I've got better stuff to give a frak about.
Your ass isn't one of 'em either, sorry to disappoint. I doubt I'll be here more than a few days myself so might as well enjoy. Bottoms up!
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Cylon. Virgon. Right. [This bitch isn't just crazy she's totally falling off her nut. Those sound like brands of blow up dolls or something...not that it's his business if she's a ginormous weirdo bitch.] You could use some lessons in creativity, for starters. And thin asses. At least you've got your fat mouth.
[A frown, his hand slowly moving to touch his face, though he doesn't say anything.] Whatever you say, old hag.
You're really goddamn annoying. [A pause] Too annoying to be here for a short amount of time. [Is...he trying to make her feel....oh god]
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[Who's this grumpygus and who gave him the right to act like more of a brat than her? Kara doesn't like this kid very much at all, she decides as she slams back more beer]
You really don't know what I'm talkin' about, do you. What, Tigh and the others forget to program all that into you? Eh, you're better off not knowing anyway. Hardly anything left of Virgon to speak of, though maybe with the miserable 'tude you'd fit in well in a deserted, radioactive wasteland. Such a bright personality shouldn't go to waste, after all.
[Have just. the biggest shit-eating grin.]
Old hag? Hah! That's real nice, coming from an albino freakshow with one talent: being a miserable frakwad
(an honor usually reserved for Kara wow aren't they gonna be great friends).[At his last words, Kara bristles, spine straightening and mouth settling into a thin line. She glares at Heine, not taking her fiery eyes off him as she finishes off the beer slowly, trying to remember what it's like to not punch somebody. But she can't really remember and almost craves the feeling of busting somebody's teeth in, and the tighter her fist clenches around the beer bottle the more she feels the urge to break the glass and stab him through the neck (her favorite stabbing spot, as it turns out) with the jagged edges. Her other hand floats down to rest on the gun at her hip.]
And just what the frak is that supposed to mean? You don't know anything about how long I belong anywhere.
[Her voice has dropped to a low, deadly tone and the anger is practically rolling off of her. Enjoy the Kara Th-rage]
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[She's not a threat to him, he realizes, just a minor annoyance not even on Firedick level, really-
But the next hunk of bullshit spewing out of her lips instantly sets his teeth on edge, programmed echoing over and over in his head to the tune of That Woman's madmadbloodtinted laughter in his ears. Before he knows it his fingers are scrabbling at the surface of the table (??), scoring marks, his other hand in his hair. He manages to spit out--]
Not. Programmed. Fuck off. I have more personality in a single earhole than you do in your entire body, for the record.
[Slowly, oh so slowly he removes his hand from his hair, the stricken look in his eyes fading. He doesn't even look at her as he delivers the next one
they're going to be bosom buddies doing each others nails in no time]That happens to be the talent of one fucktard I know. Mine's a little more complicated.
[Oh, oh what's this. His lip curls much like his dog moniker, sniffing out the struck nerve with ease and sinking his teeth in for the kill, jugular between his jaws]
Sounds to me like someone's worried she doesn't belong anywhere. Or maybe belonging makes you too much of a special snowflake?
[Her hand at her gun doesn't give him any particular concern. It'd prove interesting how much she'll try to make him die this time]
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[She casts her eyes with arched eyebrow down at his clawing hand as his rage tumbles over her during his half-stilted speech, but keeps her expression bored when she looks back up at his face, his creepy eyes tearing into her; she senses an underlying deadliness, but it hardly phases her.]
Whoa whoa whoa, you gonna use the table as a scratching post and not even take a drink to numb the pain? You really are a Cylon, aren't you. What, is programming [have some special emphasis for assholeishness] your power-button word? Pretty frakkin' weird, but takes the pressure off me to play that damn song one more time.
For the record, earrings don't equal personality. Shame, too, 'cause then maybe I wouldn't be so bored with yours.
That right? Your miserable frakwad friend of yours actually have personality, or does he need a reboot to get those lines of code goin'?
[Kara's heart leaps into her throat at the curl of the boy's lip but not from fear. Quite the opposite: she knows she could (most likely, unless he really were a Cylon, those tended to give her a run for her cubits) whoop his ass into sweet, silent submission while blindfolded with both hands tied behind her back but she'll take her chances. Her fingers tighten around the elegant wooden grip of her sidearm and she keeps the bottle close, just in case...
But when he opens his stupid mouth it's all she can do to not leap at him, but she settles for standing so fast her chair scrapes and topples back with a clatter as she steps close to him, settling the end of the barrel of her gun square against the underside of his chin. How dare he--she'll show him belonging, right down to the foot up his leather-clad ass. Her voice is low, a deadly almost-hiss with a slight--barely noticeable, but there nonetheless--shake at the end.]
You stupid frakker, you just don't know when to keep your mouth shut, do you?
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He doesn't bother to bare his neck at her, (there are other dogs out there to rip into his throat, get in line, honey) only lets his fingers settle around the Mauser at his hip, the metal cool and comforting beneath his fingertips. The chain skates against the floor, jingling. He raises it, feels the familiar weight in his hand, and points the barrel between Kara's ribs.
His mouth pulls into a madmadripping kind of smirk, narrowing in on that barest of tremble in her voice]
Hell pot, this is kettle. You must love the sound of your own voice. You talk too fucking much.
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Sometimes she can’t help but grasp at the chance to feel again, and there really was nothing that could wake her up
wake me up insidelike a good fight. Still, the adrenaline flooding through her still felt too far away, too distant, for her to enjoy it. She casts a glance down at the chain skittering on the floor before he grabs it and she snorts.]Aw, suck too much with your own weapon? Afraid you might lose it so you gotta give it a little leash? That’s cute.
[She moves in a little, just enough to feel the barrel digging into her ribs more, and grins madly (Kara? crazy? never…) before jabbing her gun harder up into his pointy chin, finger slowly drawing the trigger in closer--closer--not just yet, though....]
What can I say? You’re a real charmer.
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Master....just one bite. Just a little one. Or can't you handle her on your own you mangy mutt? You pussy. Who's the master? Scorching up his spine, crackling like a roaring fire, trying to get out but-
Oh but now isn't the time. His smile widens, all teeth present and accounted for.]
A leash? You aren't very creative, are you. Actually, I use it more like this.
[Wham, bam, thank you ma'am, he drapes the chain around Kara's wrist, pulling it taunt, hard enough to bite into her skin.]
So I've been told. People even tend to swoon in my presence. From bloodloss.
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She thinks of the crack of knuckles against bone, the metallic tang of blood slick against her teeth, tender bruises mapped out later in the showers; she craves it no more than she does all the time these days, always close to ravenously bloodthirsty because what else can she cling to when nothing is the same as before?
She eyes the bottle still on the table. Under normal circumstances it would take Kara less than three seconds to grab it and smash it against the edge of the table and slit his throat with a jagged edge of glass, but could she maneuver quickly enough with the chain? She’s not sure and doesn’t like the odds, at least not until she can get rid of the BDSM freak show shit around her wrist, so she turns back to her usual superpower, her Big Fat Mouth™.
She remembers the knife strapped to her, too, and accessible with her free hand, but now's not the time. Not yet, anyway, though the close quarters are tempting.]
Yeah, yeah, I get it. Kinky crap is your deal, been there done that already. Oh yeah, I bet they just can’t wait to fall over themselves at you. Too bad you got nothin’ to show for all your big talk.
[With another smirk and fluid motion she brings her heel directly into the back of one of his knees, hoping it’d be enough to throw him into action, get her blood really pumping. Is he up to the challenge, or is he gonna be another rag to wipe the floor with? Kara’s got a feeling, and we all know how her feelings usually turn out (hint: it’s “correct”).]
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He's on his feet in two point three seconds, wrenches the chain hard, hard enough to send her reeling-
When he comes back up for air his voice is a hiss and growl promising a future of embalming fluids and holes in the lungs. His heart is jack knifing in his chest to go with his ragged breathing, the fuzziness of his vision in the distinct shape of her]
Don't fucking touch me or that's the last thing you'll ever do.
this is me offering you an out to a fight scene if you want
She spits out the mouthful of blood
that’s such a fucking theme with me isn’t it…w/eand with a grin wipes (smears) the rest of it off (across) her chin and lips, eyes finding his again, his words shredding through her, all serrated edges and ice crystallizing her spine. But Kara’s learned a few things so, as becomes her specialty, she switches tactics, able to recognize when she’s at a disadvantage and take it. Small defeat in the bigger battle, though she hates losing, no matter how small.]All right, all right, I doubt it’d be the last I’d do but that’s besides the point. Which is, you obviously need even more of a drink than I thought before. Why don’t you chill the frak out, get your leash off me, and I’ll get us - you - beers. Whaddya say? I’m kinda stocked up.
[She kicks a cooler just nearly out of reach with a wry, bloody grin. Take it or leave it, Fido.
Let’s be friends…]Don’tcha go thinking this is over, though, Hot Pants.
yes thank you bless you bless you bless
Finally he cocks his head to the side as if he's listening to something, (no, not that fucking Mutt in the blackness of his spine, probably) his expression smoothing over into boredom once more.]
Do as you wish, I don't give a shit.
[He unwraps the chain from Kara's wrist, remorseless, before he settles back into the chair. He still keeps an eye on her, of course, because he won't just accept her backing off like that. His hackles are still up as he eyes her.]
We'll see how this stage of over goes depending on what sort of beer you've got.