Just Outside MCA, The Matrix, Shortly After Zinyak's Broadcast, Thursday

[suitably_heroic]

Several hours of searching his apartment - when he and Cara had gotten back, and again this morning - and then the greater premises of the MCA building, such as the lobby - and Atton had finally found a weapon.

Which was to say he had a broom.

He put his foot down on the head as he stepped outside and violently yanked the stick part out of it. "So what I'm gathering from this," he said, looking up at... wherever that voice had come from, just to make sure he was listening, "is that there's finally someone we can beat the poodoo out of."

They had taken all of his weapons, they had taken the Force out of his head, and they had taken the Ebon Hawk. Atton might not have been Sith anymore, but damn if he wasn't strongly inclined to make sure someone was going to die. Screaming. For this. "And then to finish up, I think I'm going to kick this Zinyak guy in the nuts."

[[ open, though some sp warning applies! ]]

Comments

[suitably_heroic]

"Not if you soak it in steak grease for long enough."

He had perfectly normal Meat Lover's pizza in his fridge. Please.

Atton wandered into the kitchen to poke through his fridge, figuring that food first was a good idea.

[myownface]

"Ew."

Sparkle watched Atton for a moment, and then wandered into the kitchen after him, heading to the sink to run his hand under the faucet. Sure, he knew what kind of pizza Atton normally stocked, here. That wasn't going to stop him from clinging to this banter for dear life.

"Maybe I'll just pass on the crust and eat the toppings instead..."

[suitably_heroic]

"And maybe after that, you can go out and strangle something beautiful just because it looked at you all nice," Atton proclaimed. He'd long-since perfected the art of opening his microwave with his elbow, a move he executed entirely flawlessly.

He was really, really glad he hadn't let Skywalker talk him into getting into the habit of doing mundane things with the Force. Right now, that helped.

[myownface]

"Not like it'd matter," Sparkle pointed out, wrinkling his nose as he adjusted the temperature of the water. "It's all fake anyway."

[suitably_heroic]

"Technically, you probably didn't even injure your hand punching a wall like an idiot," Atton said, closing up the microwave and starting the timer.

[myownface]

"Technically, probably," Sparkle muttered. "It still hurts like a sonofabitch, though."

So, that was fun. Sparkle scowled at his hand for a moment for having the audacity to react normally to pain, the jerk.

"Not fair. What's the point of getting stuck in a sim if you still get hurt and hungry and tired like always, anyway?"

[suitably_heroic]

"It's an easy place to stash us while they do who knows what with our bodies," Atton said, faux-cheerfully.

Personally, he was a little more worried about the notion someone might have digitized his memories, or something.

He leaned back against the counter, and gave Sparkle's hand a glance.

[myownface]

"... I was trying not to think about that part," Sparkle muttered, frowning down at his hand. "Thanks."

Turnabout was probably fair play, since Sparkle had pointed the whole thing out in the first place.

[suitably_heroic]

"You're welcome." Atton looked thoughtful for a second longer. "There's probably some actual disinfectant for that in the cabinet above your head," he offered. "I just ran out of bandages last week."

For reasons.

[myownface]

That admission got a speculative glance from Sparkle, but he didn't comment so much as he muttered a "Thanks," and reached up to go rummaging. At this point, it made sense to at least do that much. Whether the injury was real or not, he really had no interest in seeing if he could get some kind of nasty infection while he was in here.

"So, everything kind of sucks."

You know. Just in general.

[suitably_heroic]

A big, giant blob of metaphysical suck? Sure.

"And here you were being such a ball of sunshine, with your showing up to Fandom without warning in the middle of the week."

[myownface]

"I get it," Sparkle muttered, pulling a bottle down and looking it over to make sure he'd grabbed the right thing. "No more Fandom on a Tuesday. Tuesdays are for idiots. Keep my Fandom visits to the weekends, when I'm really more likely to get turned into a pony or something. Fuck Tuesdays."

Yes. This was all about Tuesdays.

[suitably_heroic]

"You know, I'm thinking about picking up giving you the silent treatment whenever you babble nonsense at me," Atton mused. "You think that might work for me, or is it a little too passive-aggressive?"

[myownface]

"Dunno," Sparkle replied, shrugging sullenly as he looked around for, like, paper towel or something to apply the disinfectant with. "Depends on whether or not you're aiming to just get me to stop talking completely, I guess."

Which could be a good thing? Who even knew.

[suitably_heroic]

"No, see, aiming to get you to shut up completely would go more like 'Shut up, Sparkle'," Atton said sagely.

He kicked open the cabinet with the trash can.

There was a toilet roll behind said can. Because of course there was.

[myownface]

Sparkle glanced down at the toilet roll, and then shrugged and made grabby motions with his one good hand.

"Okay, so what are you going for, then?"

[suitably_heroic]

"'Dear Sparkle, what the hell crawled up your ion engines?'"

At least Atton was considerate enough to pass him the toilet roll while he said it?

[myownface]

Sparkle wrinkled his nose as he took that toilet roll, and then shrugged and sighed.

"I bet asking that would work better than the silent treatment anyway," he decided, unrolling a wad of of it and going to pour some of the disinfectant into it.

[suitably_heroic]

"It's higher effort, though," Atton said.

He opened up a cabinet. Plates. Plates. He... probably couldn't get away with an old pizza box as a plate with Sparks around, right? Right.

[myownface]

Probably not. Like, if it was the box the pizza came in, maybe. But Sparkle had, like, standards these days.

Or something.

"I'll take a bowl," he decided, leaning up to try to peer over Atton's shoulder. "If you don't have any plates, man."

See? He was easy to please, and that was a statement that let him totally ignore the whole 'what crawled up your' thing!

Let's see how long he could get away with that.

[suitably_heroic]

Atton rolled his eyes. Hey, look-- under that box, there was a plate. Two plates! A whole cornucopia of plates!

... Yeah, two. He must have gotten them in a nostalgic fit. He shoved them both at Sparkle and raised both of his eyebrows.

[myownface]

"Hey, look who's all fancy," Sparkle mused, grinning a little in spite of... everything... and then holding up his bloody toilet paper. He wasn't going to grab those plates just yet, sorry. "So, did you decide to be fancy one day, or are those a glitch in the simulation?"

[suitably_heroic]

Sparkle really needed to stop abusing Atton's predisposition towards banter.

"Took a left turn, wound up at the Isle of IKEA," he said. "That's also where I got the coffee table."

Furniture! It was a whole new world!

[myownface]

Nope. So long as the predisposition towards banter was there, Sparkle was going to abuse it.

And when that failed, 'making up stupid stories' was always a nice back-up plan. Sparkle was awesome at that one, too.

"Shit, there's a coffee table? Do you ever use it for anything besides hiding weapons under?"

[suitably_heroic]

"Hey, I put my feet on it," Atton protested.

You know what, he'd let this go on until the microwave pinged. The pizza of truth would put a stop to this.