[OPEN] How much of it's genetics? How much of it is fate?

[chronomancer]

Characters: jade!Eridan & YOU! 
Setting: Workshop
Format: Starting with action, but I'll match you.
Summary: Eridan emerges from his self-imposed exile for a while to clean his rifles.
Warnings: Eridan's deadpan. Potential violence if he gets pissed; lots and lots of rifles. Gamzee. Gory, ironic death via Gamzee. Goddammit, Gamzee.

[He started off with one. And then he doomed himself a few times. And well. It wasn't like he could just let them go to waste, when they started piling up.

Laser rifles need a different type of maintenance than the usual kind, but it's still maintenance in the end.

So there's a sullen troll, half hidden behind a pile of guns, carefully cleaning one by one. It's a methodical and repetitive process, but it's not like Eridan seems to mind too terribly. He's just minding his business, but hey. Maybe if you ask very nicely, he'll give you one.

Maybe.]

Comments

[papshooshing]

[ Karkat is quiet for a moment. just gonna pull his legs up and hold around the knees. look as pissy as he can about it too. ]

I kind of wish all of those bulgesuckers were around.

[chronomancer]

[There's a long moment of silence.]

...yeah.

[A sigh.]

Me too.

[papshooshing]

Wow. We're kind of depressing fucks.

[chronomancer]

Sorry.

[Being depressing and a fuck is kind of his running shtick.]

[papshooshing]

What are you apologizing for?

[chronomancer]

[Shrug. What do you mean he doesn't need to apologize for everything ever?]

...force of habit.

[papshooshing]

Yeah well. Stop it.

[ shudders because ew. ]

[chronomancer]

[Have another shrug. He can't make any promises about that.]

Yeah.