asgardmeridiem | [open] if you don't shut your mouth, you're gonna feel the floor.

Who: John Allerdyce and, perhaps, you.
What: Crossing the line and getting his ass fired.
When:Night 267
Where: Baldr, either at the bar or wandering.
Rating: PG-13 for John's mouth and potential violence, will mark up if needed.

[They knew that he drank on shift. They knew that he mouthed off customers and occasionally even told them to get right the fuck out of the bar. But they were strapped for employees, so they held onto him.

Until he got extremely loaded on this particular evening and started - or attempted to start - a fistfight with his boss. The large, burly man had just enough colour to be angry, so he joined in gladly, and it got to the point where Pyro had to pull his knife. One long cut up his boss's bicep later, Pyro's ass was out on the street.

You can find him:

A) Standing in the open doorway of the small bar, hollering abuse at the owner/bouncer who just threw him out, his arms and face badly bruised and a slight list to his walk;

or

B) Wandering through Baldr with a fresh bottle in his hand, a steady stream of muttered annoyance trailing behind him. There may be shadows of bruising left, but they'll be hard to make out in the darkness.

It's hard being Pyro, damnit. So much manpain, so little time.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He lets out a yelp of pain, his wrist having taken a bad part of the beating, and his switchknife clatters to the ground.]

You Hel dickheads... [But it's enough to pacify him, at least for the time being. He lets himself be dragged away, still muttering under his breath about Shadow Control and Body Control and all the psychos in Hel along with other things that can barely be made out.

His bruises are fading already, though, and the pained, injured shuffling has gotten a little closer to drunk shuffling.]

[Isaac makes sure to grab the knife, closing and pocketing it for now while John mumbles angrily at him. So... there hadn't really been a plan for after this part, but Isaac supposes that it would probably be best to get this guy home.]

Where do you live?

Boarding house. But I'm not going home. Turn ri - yeah, right.

[He's going for another bottle, and he'll get Isaac drunk too, if that's what it takes. Not like he's buying after he just lost his job.]

Uh.

[He turns right. What else is he supposed to do?]

You need to get home, dude. You're going to get even more messed up than you already are.

Yeah, that's the plan. [His smile is twisted by the bruises on his face, almost a wince, but recognisably wicked.] Want one on the house? Liquor store's just down here.

I-

[Well, he's seventeen and he's not really the moral compass of the city, even if he is trying to be a good person lately. Isaac wants to, a little, just to see what it's like and ease some stress, but-

No. He's taking care of this guy. John would regret it later.]

-no, man. We need to get you cleaned up, alright?

Don't be lame. [He sounds about thirteen when he says that, and the dirty look is about as mature.] I'm already cleaning up, aren't I?

[It's true: his face is almost its regular shape and colour again. There's still blood smeared across it, as well as some on his clothes, but he's nearly all healed.]

Damn.

[He's scared, for just a moment- the irrational thought flitting through his mind that Pyro is somehow a werewolf and he's been manipulated all this time, and... no, that's not the case at all. He's just got a regeneration skill.]

Well... cleaning up or no, dude, you pulled a knife on someone. They can press charges, get you locked up. It's probably best to lay low.

[A pause.]

...if I get a bottle for you, will you go home?

Charges? [He laughs, wincing just a little at the pressure on his still aching ribs, but not stopping.] There's no law here, man. Remember? No one gives a shit what you do unless you piss off a god, and then it's a week of some stupid prank. Who the hell cares?

[He throws his arms out, staggers a bit, then rights himself again.]

Go home and get drunk alone? Pretty sure that's even lamer than being you.

Pretty sure there's still a jail, dude.

[Isaac ducks, trying to catch him before he topples over- but when Pyro speaks next, he rolls his eyes and drops him anyway.]

You want me to kick your ass? I'm trying to be a decent person to a pathetic drunkard who can't let go of the past. The least you could do is not insult me while I do it.

I'm pathetic. [His smile drops pretty damn fast at that.] When are you gonna get that it's not the past? Living in denial 'cause you've got a window of time where you don't have to face what you are, that's pathetic. Your self-loathing is pathetic.

I don't-

[But he's being defensive. Isaac shakes his head and lets it go.]

-don't pretend that you know anything about me. Just because you put all your self worth in your powers doesn't make you a better person. It just makes you sad, now that they're gone.

They're not just powers. [Heavy weight on each individual word, so much emphasis that his mouth contorts around them.] They're not magical bullshit. Being a mutant is in your blood. Calling myself human would be like humans deciding they were fucking unicorns because some god made them stop hating each other.

[He breathes a heavy, stinking sigh at Isaac.] You really wanna pretend that what's going on here is permanent, and you can live in your normal paradise forever? Fine. But I wish I could be there in your world to laugh my ass off at you when you can't hide behind denial anymore.

[That's it. Isaac finally just loses his temper and shoves him, hard, toward one of the little tables in a cafe patio.]

You're a real piece of work, John. Get out of my sight before I make you regret it.

[He's almost completely healed now, so that doesn't hurt as much as it could have, but he still folds into a right angle over one of the tables and lets out a wheezing breath as the edge cuts into the tender spot below his ribs.

He straightens up, brushing down his shirt and using all of his remaining energy not to wince, eyes smouldering.]

Regret it? I'll make you regret everything you said tonight. All of us will. I do have a pack, and they're not gonna like your attitude about us. So I'd watch your back for awhile.

Look at me, I'm shivering in my boots.

[He takes a confident step forward, angry, arrogant.]

You're not the only one with a pack. And, uh- mine? [Isaac leans in a little, like he's telling a secret.] We've beaten a lot tougher things than a few kids playing make believe. So I don't really care what you think your stupid little friends are capable of. [He moves back again, straightening his jacket. He'll be keeping that knife.]

Next time you threaten me, I'll kill you.

[Surprisingly, that elicits no anger from him - he just laughs, laughs and laughs, loud enough to echo off the walls and fill the restaurant district of Baldr. It's a cracked, unstable sound, but also a dangerous one, because this isn't bravado; it's confidence. Mystique's mutation has always been an adjunct to her incredible grace and strength, and this young, angry Magneto will dismantle Isaac in seconds.

He's finally got the power, and he can't stop laughing at how good it feels.]

[What a slobbering drunk. Isaac thinks about hitting him- really laying it into him as he stands there and giggles like a loon, but he belatedly remembers the healing. It wouldn't teach him anything if he just healed it off, and Isaac really isn't supposed to be killing people.

So he's just going to shrug and leave. Sorry for helping, bro.]

[open] if you don't shut your mouth, you're gonna feel the floor.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject