[OPEN] we're the first ones to starve, we're the first ones to die

[disgracedvoid]

Characters: Darkleer and YOU.
Setting: Workshop like he's ever in any other floor, sob
Format: I'll start with action, but I'll match you.
Summary: STRONG troll attempts to take on the cold. The cold wins this round.
Warnings: Darkleer being a god tier passive aggressive bitch, since he's in a foul mood. Exploding things. A troll that will snap your spine like breadsticks if you piss him off.

[The first rule of making anything is choosing the right materials for the task. The problem here is that the right materials for the task are busy shattering because it's cold and they can't really withstand Darkleer's casual strength. That's new. Though he's got the theoretical knowledge for why this is happening, it doesn't make it any less frustrating.

So by the third time the frame of this heater-to-be breaks, Darkleer is seriously considering punching something. Or someone.

That and he's growling. Never a good thing when the dignified, snotty asshole troll is growling in the back of his throat. It only heralds impressive amounts of wanton violence.]

Comments

[disgracedvoid]

I assure you, I have no idea what you are talking about.

[How can you doubt such a serious, straight faced troll? He's the epitome of seriousness. He tolerates no silliness at all. Of course he's not a trolling troll. He is a STRONG troll. Right.]

[ghostytrainer]

Auuugh!!

[TROLLS.]

Come on, Chandel. Let's just go bef-- Chandel, no!

[Too late. While John was resisting the urge to pull his hair out, the Litwick had been sloooowly moving closer to Darkleer's face. Closer and closer until...finally.......]

[Boop. Tee hee.]

[Right on the nose.]

[John's hand moves towards a small red and white ball attached to the strap of his fanny pack. He gets the feeling that it might be time to call the Litwick back and run like hell.]

[disgracedvoid]

[There's a second of absolute, befuddled silence before Darkleer reaches out to try and grab the litwick. The result is both him and John failing their attempts, as Chandel - smartly - moved out of the way of that giant fist.]

I suggest you get your partner out of my sight.

[Glare. This is not a stare, I repeat, this is not a stare, proceed to start screaming.]

Now.

[ghostytrainer]

[Eep! John grabs the ball, pointing it towards the Litwick who disappears in a flash of red light. He really should have done this sooner, but he's not really a fan of putting her in there. She gets all pouty, but in this case it's definitely for her own good.]

[JOhn puts his hands up in front of him and gives a nervous laugh.]

Aha...I'm...really, really sorry about that.

[disgracedvoid]

Out!

[This sure as hell is a large, angry troll flashing a lot of teeth.]

[ghostytrainer]

Right, yeah! Sorry again!

[Bolting for the stairs now. He's not sure if he wants to see this troll again and try this introduction thing over again or if he should hope their paths never cross ever, ever again.]

[It's a tough call, really.]

[disgracedvoid]

[Darkleer holds onto the scowl for a good moment after John is gone. Then lets out a soft huff, which might or might not have been a laugh.

Either way, as he goes back to work, he's completely forgotten about his annoyance with uncooperative materials.

Well, for the ten minutes it takes for another frame to snap, that is.]