cape_kore | ¡peligro! x 001 x audio/video

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¡peligro! x 001 x audio/video

[The audio feed is a mess of scuffling and cursing. That's the sound of the fountain, there's the sound of your broadcaster stumbling and hitting the ground (with a squeak, so enjoy that), and--ah--

[Here's the video. It's hard to see him immediately; his fingers scraping and scrambling over the screen do a pretty good job of hiding his face--and his expression, crunched tight in panic and confusion and anger--] No. No, no! get off! Fuckers, you sh-shitsucking bastards, you don't get me. You don't get me, I fucking swear, I will zap every last one of you cumstains-- [Where does it break it has to be breakable everything breaks how do you get this thing off?!

[What did you want him to notice it's on? Maybe later. Excuse him as he bites at the wristband of the communicator.]

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If you have any luck, tell me you're secret. [ A pause. ] Also try some vaseline. I hear that shit works like a charm.

My secrets are mine, not my fault if you sad shits got no luck yet. Kiss my ass, dickweed. [YOUR TEASING IS NOT APPRECIATED.]

You know, I do know a quick way you can get rid of that thing. [ CLINT DOES NOT APPRECIATE BEING CALLED A DICKWEED THANK YOU VERY MUCH. ]

You gonna share you secrets?

Yeah sure...see, whatcha gotta do man is get a big ass fuckin' knife. Machete maybe and chop the arm off. [ He pauses. ]

'n while you're at it, please don't record it. Most people here will have nightmares for years if they got to see that shit.

But not you, cuz yer a hardass, huh? You seen some shit, right?

Fuck cares what I've seen. Blood makes me nauseous, jackass. Nobody wants to be eatin' some cereal and see some dude chop off his arm.

Oh, bloody's how I like my wheaties. [He is...so...so cool.] Who are you?

Well, whatever keeps you going man. Can't really judge.

Hawkeye. You?

Party Poison! Don't forget it.

You got a machete?

Somehow I don't think I could.

Got a really big knife. Not a machete but I've seen it make clean cuts before. [ ...he should not be authorizing use of a weapon to this guy, should he? ]

How 'bout a bowie? [Probably not. :| ]

Yep, I got one of those. Never leave home without it. What's up?

Well you know what they say about a knife. Man's best friend. Guy needs a friend in a new place. Man, I am a delicate fuckin flower, I need a knife.

I'm inclined to say my bow is. But a knife comes to a close second. [ A pause. ] Still at the fountain, man? [ Either way he's heading that way. ]

[This is going much better than expected! Even if he's not sure what kind of man in tights he's setting up to encounter.] Sure, whatever. I'll be here.

[And he will be! On the edge of the fountain, still picking at the communicator.]

[ ACTION! ]

[ Clint has his hands tucked in his pockets as he wanders over eventually (leaving the bow at home but he still has a gun holster strapped to his thigh...back-ups are always good!) before his brow arches up at the sight of...Party Poison. He lives up to the name. ]

It's not going anywhere anytime soon, yanno.

For all you know. [He plays the first second cool, very cool, he doesn't even care. The very next second, though, his attention jumps up anxiously. Nothing hides the appraising look he gives Hawkeye as the man approaches. His knees press close together, shoulders sloping forward.] Didn't say you'd be packing, Hawkeye.

Don't take my suggestion to cut your arm off seriously...we don't have the medical equipment here to save your ass. [ He smiles as he folds his arms in front of his chest. ] Always. Carrying around my bow everywhere can get 'er damaged by people who jus' think it's a prop.

[ He leans over, pulling a bowie knife from his combat boot. ] You said you needed a knife?

[Clint leans over, Poison scoots away. Big tough man he may be when dealing with little girls like Kenzi, but this is--well. This is obviously not Kenzi.] Are you for real?

[ This look forever, bro. Unless you try to hurt him or...brainwash him. He's as harmless as a fly.

Not really but still. Clint stares at him for a moment before setting the knife beside Poison. ] What? You think I was fuckin' with you?

I think you don't know me. And yet...! [That's what a good drop-off is like. He takes the blade happily, turning it over and over in his palm, a little twirl just to show off.] Yer pretty well-equipped, so I sure hope you ain't as dumb as you seem.

[ Clint is pretty sure he just insulted him. :| But he watches him, rolling his eyes a little. ] I don't need to know you...I jus' wanna make sure you don't go off gettin' yourself killed. You seem the type. [ He knows the type. He is the type. ]

[Have an eyeroll back. He keeps fussing with the knife, nervous energy buzzing through it like an extension of his jittering fingers.] What's a Hawkeye? You get to pick it?

[ He shrugs. ] Not really. It was given to me. [ A pause. ] Hawkeye...birds of prey have good eyesight. Damn good. So do I.

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gloryisbullshit.livejournal.com - 2012-11-10 22:14 (UTC) - Expand

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