towerofanimus | (no subject)

Characters:

dualscars and everyone else.
Setting: The second library, very late at night.
Format: Starting with action brackets, but I'll match.
Summary: Dualscar partakes in an activity that does not involve violence!
Warnings: None, yet.

[those transversing the second library later at night may find the orphaner perusing its shelves, though with little to no apparent criteria for his selections. he looks as he has for the last few weeks: not to his standards of vanity. and with the more recent shenanigans involving nightmarish worlds? a touch on the battered side.

more notable, however, is that with every book deemed unsatisfactory, its chucked unceremoniously to the floor. only, that it isn't: to be thrown into a growing pile of them. one that, in fact, looks like quite a few shelves had gone into its creation. by now, several individuals could sit uncomfortably upon its hard-cover summits.

but if this requires any sort of attention at all, it doesn't show. after all, both holding a book and turning the page with one hand requires more effort than he'd care to admit.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Yeah, Signless is not fooled. It's pretty obvious that Dualscar is pissed off.]

Who says I think I have a chance in hell, even if I wanted her?

[a sneer.]

You said it yourself, mutant. Your kismesis.

It was a fucking slip of the tongue! Fuck, you're so goddamned sensitive I'm surprised you can stand to wear clothing! Does the rough weave chafe your shame globes, Orphaner? It might explain a few things.

[bristling, visibly even, shoulders raising just the tiniest. if he had fur? it'd be standing on end by now.]

Slips can be tellin'.

[... nonetheless, as much as he hates to admit it, he does have a point. the sword is sheathed just like that, though not without a bit of uneccessary force.]

My point stands.

Your point is so covered in load gaper waste that it's not even recognizable as a sharp object. And I still think you're jealous or something.

[He snorts] Of whom, I'm not even sure.

[He doesn't actually think Dualscar is jealous of Signless' interest - if he HAD any interest, which he didn't, no way - in the Condesce. But it's too amusing to needle him.]

All right, Signless. Then answer me this:

What would I be jealous of?

Fuck if I know. [Leaning against a bookshelf] Maybe you have a secret kinky yearning to slum it up with lowblood filth. Maybe you've got a fetish for mutants. Come to think of it, all the signs point to yes.

[he drums his fingers on the hilt of his sword idly as he listens, the contact of claws on steel rather obtrusive to the words. nonetheless, his attention is held-- and to his irritation.

his eyes flick to the summoner's shoes, and up slowly to finally hold his gaze. studious, perhaps. maybe, his eyes narrow as the other finishes.]

I've not the faintest idea as to what those 'signs' would be, let alone any that suggest a more.. pitch hatred for you.

[Since Signless doesn't actually care if Dualscar wants his body, it doesn't bother him much as the highblood checks him out. Not much. It's a bit obtrusive, and he struggles to keep his expression casual and his hands free to grab his sickles if need be.

As Dualscar finally speaks, he gives a shrug] If you say so. I'm not the one who threw a fucking book at my head. If that isn't wriggler-level black flirting, I don't know what is. And I've seen a lot of romance movies.

[the sneer returns, followed by a noise of distaste. he whips about, cape fluttering behind him rather impressively, and so turns away from the sufferer completely once more.]

Then we're done here.

[He laughs]

Next time you lose an arm, come to the infirmary and I'll sew it back on for you.

[NOT EVEN DIGNIFYING THAT WITH A RESPONSE. just. stalking off.

B| yes fuck you signless, in all definitions of the word.]