maskormenace | ( ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ )

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( ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ )

[ It's dark -- mostly because it's late, but there aren't an excess of lights on, either -- though Reggie's face is faintly illuminated by the light of his communicator screen and also something off-screen that might be a TV or bedside light. Either way, he's recognizable enough, and though he's smirking faintly his expression is otherwise somewhat blank.

He's been staying out of most of the current drama as best as any survival-oriented, cowardly narcissist can, which is pretty damn well. All things considered. Basically he hasn't been leaving the house if he can avoid it, for which has his reasons. ]

So, all right. Hear me out. Anyone else ever noticed how once you're here, you have to just start believin' in everything? Like that any kinda crap is possible and you just gotta get used to it... after a while you don't even have to think about it anymore. [ Which is, you know, nice. In his opinion. ] Nice thing about that is not having to worry so much about whatever happens, I think. No matter how bad things have gotten here, it's never been the end of the world.

... Well, not yet. [ And his brow crinkles at that, but only briefly. ] Kinda makes you think, huh? Like what's the best way to take advantage of being stuck in some world that actually takes okay care of us? Don't even bother arguing with me about that part, it's true and everyone oughta know it. We get a lot of free, fake time to kill being here, so I say it should be obvious: we can do whatever we can't do back where we came from. Anyway, what I actually wanna know is--

Anyone here made a bucket list yet?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

sure, I'll be there

u got me curious

Yeah, bring tissues

[ And, true to her word, Kitty is there waiting. In light of Reggie's rather creepy slapping-can-be-hot comment, she's mussed her hair up a bit and taken off her make-up in an attempt to de-glam herself to remove any potential hotness from this equation whatsoever...but she's still a ridiculously pretty girl dressed all in black (having come recently from her waitress job) so there's got to be someone somewhere who appreciates that. She's flexing her hand threateningly - as though it needs to be warmed up before it gets launched on its noble mission. ]

[ Once again Reggie has somehow talked himself into harm's way, although not even in the usual way. It's hard to de-escalate in the heat of the moment, to stop pushing as provocatively as possible because it's satisfying in the moment, but... by now it's probably clear thinking ahead is not always Reggie's strongest suit, nor his priority. It's sort of a game, seeing just how much he can get away with -- compulsive, almost, or at least addictive. It's been a while since he's pushed it to the point of getting his ass kicked.

Or face slapped.

Either way, he has to show up; after all that, he really has no choice. Reggie tries to take some comfort in the fact that this person isn't like Moose, twice his size (well, Reggie can only assume), temperamental and dumb -- temperamental alone isn't so bad -- but he's of course, in truth, still mostly just talk. A coward, frankly, but still he shows up, dressed in a white button-down and skinny jeans. Simple but stylish.

And frowns when he sees her. ]

Haven't we met before?

[ Oh. Yeah. That's maybe one problem that Kitty had forgotten in her reckless headlong rush to revenge herself upon Reggie for the way he frustrated her - that they had met before, that she had been using the text function for a bloody good reason, that she doesn't want him going around blabbing that oh yeah there's this girl Kitty who's doing some very shady serial-dating. Well - Kitty might be a very different person from Reggie, but they share a certain impulsive lack of clear-thinking, and they have a shared tendency for that to get them into very serious trouble.

Oh, well. Kitty frowns a little bit, then shakes her head - more at herself than at him, to clear her mind of the uncomfortable memories of that long week as the Hornets' prisoner. Among others, less recent. This is about a two out of ten on the scale of trouble she's gotten into. ]

Probably. We're both imPorts, yeah? It's pretty inevitable that we've met.

[ She's a good liar: that comes out smooth and confident. And she quickly switches gears. ]

Anyway, I'm impressed you showed up. I thought for sure you'd chicken out.

[ Reggie continues to stare at her in a levelm considering sort of way, his eyebrow raised; he knew he recognized her, and even had a pretty decent idea he knew when he recognized her from, but at the same time, he isn't positive.

Hmm. ]

Yeah, I guess so. I see enough girls around here it's impossible to keep 'em all straight all the time. [ He clenches his jaw a little defiantly, raising his eyebrow up a bit higher and crossing his arms. No -- he does recognize her. ] And it takes more than a slap to scare me away -- isn't like you'd be the first.

[ Though he exhales slowly, turning his head slightly. ]

Let's get it over with. You don't got any rings on, do you?

[ Her answer to that is an unfeigned sniff. ]

Yeah, 'cause I'm some posh baroness, I get off work and immediately put on my rings. [ She holds up her hand to demonstrate its lack of jewelry. ] Get real.

[ But if he wants to get it over with? Then she'll certainly oblige. She slaps her hand once, twice, three times against her thigh, none too gently, to dull the nerves just a bit. The last thing she wants to do is get caught wincing after she gives it to him - no. She's going to seem tough as anything. Then, with no further hesitation, she swings back her arm and gives it to him right across the face. Really hard. Really really hard, far far beyond "that stings" and right into "my ears are ringing and I can't quite think straight." This is a girl who has good practice with slaps and a barmaid's wiry muscles to boot - and a lot of pent-up rage. ]

Oooh -

[ In spite of her earlier efforts, that's a noise half of pain. The other half, though, is pure satisfaction. As she gets her feet back under her, she rubs her hand against her hip. ]

Right, that felt good.

Hey, I got to ask. That crap hurts.

[ But Reggie braces himself, breathing in and out slowly and clenching his hands loosely into fists at his sides. It's nothing he can't take, he's gotten much worse than slaps before, but still--

Oh, none of that makes it hurt any less, and fuck, does it hurt. Reggie's head snaps sharply to the side and he makes a single shrill yelp of pain as he stumbles backward, thrown off balance and clutching at his face. Even once he's steady again he still holds his cheek, whimpering a couple of times quietly. ]

Ow. For the love of-- that's going to leave a bruise. For sure. Have you been saving that one up or what? 'Cause whatever I deserved it wasn't a maiming.

[ A tsk of scorn. Maybe he's right, of course - he did have a slap coming, but maybe not one of that magnitude. She might have gotten a little bit carried away in making sure that it wouldn't be misinterpreted as some love-tap. But, well... ]

A maiming. Slaps don't leave scars, do they.

[ And she reaches out for his wrist, tugging his hand away from his cheek so she can see. ]

Look - see, that's hardly even pink.

[ Which isn't a lie, since it crosses so far into red territory that it's no longer anything close to pink. So: hardly pink. ]

Anyway, if it does leave a bruise, that's good, isn't it, since you'll have to admit the reason why you have it.

[ Only begrudgingly does he let her take a look, putting up minimal resistance to her pulling his wrist. He takes the opportunity to sneer at her, although even that hurts his face to do -- yet another thing he can't resist, since clearly not even pain is enough to stop him.

He hisses, moving away from her after a moment or two passes, but he leaves his hands off his face this time. ]

Close enough. They aren't supposed to leave bruises, either -- you might as well have just given me a black eye, it would've been simpler. [ Then he scoffs, raising his voice slightly: ] Yeah, yeah. What, that I asked for it?

No. That it came about because you were more cheerful about meeting a girl to let her slap you than going to volunteer some time for charity.

[ And she follows him, moving closer again, touching her thumbs against his cheekbones. Injured and uninjured both. Apparently, now that she's inflicted violence on him, he's lost all right to personal space. ]

It's not too late to add a black eye. It's been a while, but I leave really impressive black eyes.

Well, so what? I got a right. Whatever gets you-- hey.

[ Though he doesn't even finish that thought -- probably for the best, too, that he doesn't -- because he moves back from her again, more abruptly this time. She's confusing him, making it harder to be deflective and nonchalant because suddenly he's too busy having to be defensive. What's with all the touching, anyway?

He huffs out a breath, sharply. ]

Too late. You already went with slapping, I'm not about to give you another freebie.

[ A bit of a sniff, but she does at least draw her hand back. ]

Freebie. Like you could stop me if I decided to punch you right now.

[ He watches her warily, watches her hands, flinching preemptively. ]

Yeah, freebie. Not like I've done anything to you in the past two minutes, right? [ Then he holds out his arms. ] Y'know... what's it gonna solve? Or prove?

[ She makes a face. ]

It'll be satisfying, won't it. Your face is really punchable.

I know, but-- [ Wait. He puts his hands up. ] Okay, first of all, why does everyone think that? And--

Punching me ain't gonna make me a better person, like, at all. You're gonna have to live with that.

[ Which is still not really a compelling argument against punching, but. ]

I expect everyone thinks that because your face is really punchable. Because you always sort of hold it like you're about to sneer at someone. It makes my palms itch.

[ She says that matter-of-factly and weirdly without any sort of recrimination. This is honest reporting from Kitty Jones. ]

And I know it's not going to make you a better person. I've punched my fair share of arseholes; I know it doesn't change them. This is about satisfying me. Honestly...this is why you never get anywhere when you're flirting.

Ugh. [ And lo, he does sneer. ] Maybe I got a good reason for that. Y'know? It's important that people know what I think of 'em.

And for the record-- [ Carefully, almost without even thinking about it, he takes another step backward, holding up one finger. ] I get plenty. So I ain't, like, afraid of you, okay? You'd need to be at least three times bigger for that.

[ Not necessarily, but it is usually guys of about that size (or bigger) that end up beating him up. ]

[ Kitty's response to Reggie's comment is extremely intelligent and extremely adult: she feints like she's going to punch him just to see if he'll flinch. ]

[ He does more than flinch, at that; when Kitty aims the fake-punch he yelps and shields his face with both arms, this time stumbling backward so that he loses his balance and falls back onto his ass. ]

Ow. [ Carefully, he lowers one arm. ] What happened? Did you miss?

[ In response, Kitty laughs - but for all that she's definitely laughing at him, it's not a particularly mean-sounding laugh. She sounds more pleased with herself than contemptuous of him. ]

You're totally scared of me!

[ It takes him a moment to catch up to what happened, but once he does Reggie frowns, glares, and gets back up on his feet huffily. ]

I'm not. I just-- well... who likes getting hit? That's normal, I'm not some kinda pain junkie.

[ With a grin: ]

What happened to it being sexy?

[ His jaw clenches and he exhales in frustration, vocalizing the sound "ugh." ]

Context matters. If I actually deserve it that's one thing-- [ Not that his definition of "deserve" and someone else's always align. ] Black eyes mess up my face.

[ And, laughing: ]

All right, seriously, have you literally ever been slapped and it was at all sexy? Tell me the truth.

Well-- [ Exhaling again, he crosses his arms. ] Not exactly -- not yet. Who can tell, though, I mean-- odds are in my favor it's bound to happen sooner or later. Might as well be ready for it.

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