midniightspecial

[midniightspecial]

                                "only sometimes. the rest of the time you're a nuisance." he teases, dark eyes narrowing in ezra's direction as he relaxes, exhausted, into the couch cushions, somehow comforted by the presence of the man he consistently tells to leave him alone. like he ever would. "i get the feeling that you prefer to do the begging, ezra." he arches a brow, a slow grin spreading over his lips. "hairless as the day i was born. or maybe not. you'll never really know."

"but not never. you've as good as admitted it by now—you think i'm charming." sometimes! which is just as good as all the time, in whatever mental gymnastics the phrase has done since entering his ear. "now you're really tempting me. i get a beat down and you'll beg? i might knock for the rest of my life with odds like that." ah, if only. impatience will always win out, but every dog has its treat. ezra's are just a little more... unreachable... compared to others. "you're joking." he actually snorts. "not a hair on that skinny little arse of yours?" maybe he's not really surprised. maybe he's just taking the excuse to talk about his ass. who can say?

[midniightspecial]

                               her eyes watch him, the candle clutched to his chest like she just gave him something precious. she makes a mental note to get him something nicer at some point, something better than what he holds so lovingly now. "maybe one day, fins." she smiles and reaches out to give him a little squeeze. "then stay... i don't like it down here, and i really don't want to be alone."

"i know," he says, still cradling the little candle close to his chest, like if it isn't touching him at all times that it will cease to exist. "but i wish i could still." it's unfortunate that no matter how much he wants to give, that he just has... nothing to give. nothing but himself. more unfortunate, then... that most people want nothing to do with that. with him. "...really?" he asks, perking up. here he had been asking for himself. he's lonely, too. "i would like to. i don't think they check."

[midniightspecial]

                                          "unfair, i've given you such an exciting nickname having known you what — a total of one hour?" he grins, his head tilting in such obvious admiration of him stood before him — what can he really say about him beyond he's pretty? and strange, and his voice makes kit want to lean in and hear more of whatever weird shit he has to say. "go on then, enlighten me. i'll be sure not to ruin the mystery."

"Mmm. Maybe not yet—I don't know you that well. Maybe I can find a nickname that suits you if you give me enough time." Adonis leans back and smiles, catching the trailing gaze of the man before him. He doesn't mind being examined, just because he gets to do the exact same thing at the other—a prime example of someone of his interests, after all. "I'd ask for your name, but it would ruin the mystique. You know how I can get to know you a little more, if at all, bouncer?"

[midniightspecial]

                                                       "not usually, which is why this is so strange." she sighs, always the bookworm, the quietest and smallest thing in the room, as though afraid to be seen. "that sounds — extremely accurate," she snorts, head shaking before her eyes lift to meet his, a brow arched. "you into that? interpreting dreams? mine never make any sense, i just wake up feeling stressed and exhausted."

" so you're the type to be in all the action, huh?" dreams could tell a lot about a person ⸺ what a person desired, feared, or needed the most. unfortunately, that guidance was all lost on skeeter. "you like to help out where you can, but something's telling you that you're not good enough?" he gives them a pause. "that's a bummer, but if it makes you feel any better, portals are a smart move, you just gotta keep on until you find the right one, right?"

[midniightspecial]

                                             "only sometimes." he quips, though in truth, ezra had buried himself somewhere within kit's affections simply by being him. unapologetically annoying, and impossible to shake off. head resting back against the couch, he turns to look at him, cheek resting against the soft cushions. "nah, too proud. i'll grab you, shake you, beg you to tell me what you've done with the ezra i know." he teases, hands resting against his legs as he settles, almost sleepily, into the comfort of the couch. he hasn't relaxed all day, has stressed, fretted, and now he finds himself exhausted. he scoffs, eyes rolling. "not gonna happen, i'm clean shaven elsewhere."

"as long as i'm charming." ezra offers a sharp-toothed grin in response, clearly unbothered by the fact that he's invading kit's space. it's not like he's shoved him off! and gotten away with it. "so what happens when i do? are you going to eat your words?" something tells him that doing the absolute barest possible minimum to be decent isn't going to be rewarded... but another, louder voice goes go on, who gives a shit? it's funny! "but i think i'll aim lower, if it's all the same to you. been fixing for some hairs not off the top of your head. that'll really make it worth my while."

[midniightspecial]

                                    her eyes follow his, how they widen over something as small as a candle. she wonders how they had ended up this way — picked and prodded at, taken apart and put back together again. she is not a violent person, but she wants to hurt all of those who might put a hand against fins. "you don't have to give me anything, i'm just glad you're here. being down here makes me — anxious." she swallows, a shudder rippling over her slight shoulders. "oh, please do. it would be such a comfort."

fins gingerly takes the little—to him, anyway—candle, eyes wide. maybe to someone else it would have been small, but it's everything to him. "thank you," he says, voice small. "i really like it." he already knows where he's going to put it, too. right next to where he sleeps, so he can look at it. "i wish i had something to give you." slowly, fins sits himself down against the wall. "maybe i could come and stay sometimes. i don't mind sleeping on the floor."

[midniightspecial]

                                he narrows his eyes at her in a glare, long fingers performing a dance in which they twirl around one another, flex and squeeze, anything to occupy his large and calloused hands. "your sarcasm isn't helpful," he grumbles, head shaking. "how do you even do that? we're buried under fucking ground, with nothing to do but sit and wait. how are you not freaking out or simply dying of boredom?"

                            “ nah ! you're for real ? hadn't noticed a bit, kit kat. someone oughta get'cha tucked n' squared away in district nine, with that talent. ” the complete opposite of her buddy, she's sprawled out across the bed and doodling away. “ deeply, you need to swallow the biggest chill pill. or take whatever it is that'll calm 'ya the fuck out. ”

[midniightspecial]

                              must be nice, she thinks, to sleep well in a place like this. mina has struggled since the day she found herself down here, all of it so stifling, smothering her under its crushing weight, the inability to escape. "i'm glad one of us is sleeping." she sighs, head aching — she is not quite a ray of sunshine down here. is she ever? "a ball of yarn? is that really what does it for you?" she asks, a slow smile cracking upon her full lips.

"I'm lovin' not exercising, personally! I get to take more naps, which is a bonus for ol' Joey!" they say with a grin. Do they miss digging graves? Maybe a little bit. The change of pace is enjoyable, though. It would be better if there were more cans of tuna, but life is all about giving you something cool, then taking something else away. "I recommend a nice ball of yarn. It keeps me entertained for hours, and I don't get blisters."

[midniightspecial]

                      chewing on her cheek, mina listens to derek's words and finds herself unbelieving. nothing about this is feels right, none of it feels fine. "convincing," she murmurs, though she looks up with the smallest of amused smiles shot in his direction, her pale fingers twisting over and over in a sudden bout of anxiety. "what happened then? how did it end up?"

"I think it'll be—you know. Fine." Even he doesn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth. They sound like dry platitudes coming out of him, hollow and afraid as what he assumes is his life is burnt to a crisp above them. "I mean," Derek continues, "I got caught in something bad once too. It'll—It'll pass." It has to.

[midniightspecial]

                                she doesn't understand it so much as she tolerates it, mercy's fearful whisperings of prayer as though it will do anything — as though they brought this upon themselves. hell, maybe they had. maybe the endless concrete walls and the stuffy air is punishment for their skins. "i don't think this is god's doing," she says softly, her light eyes drifting over the woman's elegant fingers as they brush over her rosaries, brows creasing in her concern. "don't you think we've already been through enough?"

"Just the storm," Mercy repeats quietly. "Is it? And men were scorched with great heat... and blasphemed the name of God, which hath power over these plagues... When the fourth angel pours his vial upon the sun, everything burns. Maybe this was preventable."

The Book of Revelation was a naturally recurring motif at the Church. Mercy thinks of it often. She does not blame anyone here for blaspheming: but she blames herself for not being enough. If she was a worthy vessel then more people would have found the Word within her. And there would be no wrath. Mercy squeezes Wilhelmina's hand, and in the other her rosaries pass softly through her fingers in quick, habitual prayer.

[midniightspecial]

                                          "you think god intended for us to swig from the neck?" she snorts, watching as jess drinks from the wine, her own limbs loosening under its heady warmth. mina doesn't drink a lot, but anxiety is creeping up her spine the longer she spends underground, a losing herself to the pleasant fuzzy headedness of a bottle of merlot might be exactly what the woman needs tonight. she sighs as she accepts the bottle with small fingers, they curl around its neck as she tilts her head back and swallows with a hum. "what is your work?" she asks, eyebrow arching with a small smile. "it's my idea of a nightmare — this mole-person crap."

" not when it's the way god intended ! " she took the bottle of wine, took an ineffective drink of it ( she would have to monitor mina when she drank it -- she couldn't remember if you sip or chug ! ), then passed it over to mina. ( was the feeling of drunkenness really worth that annoying taste ? ) " ya know, i can't say i miss my work, and i can't say i miss my desk or my books - " - that latter part being because she did not have a desk or books (outside of the ones the penitentiary provided, that is) - " - but i get what ya mean. goin' all mole-person wasn't exactly on my to-do list. "

[midniightspecial]

she laughs, her head shaking. no, she thinks, mutated bunker rats would be preferable to what rattles around the pearl white of her skull each night. "not quite, no," she sighs, thinking only of the terror as she awakens, sweating and shaking in the night. "it's like — the world is on fire. and everyone is screaming, and i'm holding this portal open but beyond it, there's just more fire." she shudders, shaking off the mental image.

"oh yeah?" the good thing about 𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍'𝒔 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒖𝒄 was that it typically caused skeeter to forget his dreams by the time he woke up. he was of the opinion that he didn't have any altogether. "about what? don't tell me they're about mutated bunker rats."

[midniightspecial]

he grins, dark eyes trickling slowly over the man's features — who even is this guy? he doesn't care so much when he's this bored; because he's weird, and nice to look at, and that sounds like a good night to kit. "mhm, you'll do." he shrugs lightly. "only if it's as creative as — blondie."

Blondie. Such a well-thought nickname really is the pinnacle of him and this man's interactions—the nickname doesn't grate as much, but Adonis needs some amusement just because he can't cut or experiment with this many close bodies. "No good scotch, but I hope you like my company," he teases him. "Do I get to give you a nickname now, or is this a one-way deal?"

[midniightspecial]

                                                                        "i'd take your word for it, but i'm bored enough to want to see for myself." dark eyes flicker and betray his interest, felix's brows raised as he examines this man and his eagerness to lead him down a series of darkened tunnels — how unwise he is to agree, and how incredibly dull these days spent beneath the city must be for him to put any sort of trust in such a foxlike man as this one. "is this how you spend your days down here?" he asks, voice low as he falls in step by his side. "hiding in these tunnels? you ever get lost?"

"oh, you have no idea. just because people have abandoned them doesn't mean everything else did." felix's agreeability brings a brighter smile to his face. ezra's hardly done any selling at all. a little suggestion and he's raring to go—he must be desperately bored. "i knew there was something i liked about you. you're the adventurous sort, like me. come on, then. i'll show you my favorite spot."

[midniightspecial]

                                      he looks down at ezra's stretched legs with a furrowed brow, an intolerance towards such closeness with others crawls uncomfortably up his spine — but he does know this man too well to understand he should be granted personal space in his presence. long fingers reach out to run absently over his shins, sighing as he allows his head to fall back as he watches the ceiling, throat bobbing. "you will not." he retorts, voice coloured with amusement. "i think you're a charming little nuisance." he glances over at him, offers a winking half grin as he teasingly slaps his thigh. "you'll have to show me this shrine. i was wondering who'd been cutting off strands of my hair whilst i sleep. weirdo. keep aiming higher, i'm sure you'll get there one day."

"not too well. i am a liar," he admits, kicking his legs up to splay them across the seat... and kit's lap, too. "but not always. i'll knock, just you wait." just like that, he pivots from ominous to batting his eyelashes. "you really think i'm charming? i'm touched. i'll have to make you a better shrine now that we're down here. as for beatings... i can only hope. so far all i've done is frighten people. shame, that."

[midniightspecial]

                   it's as though there's a hook in her gut, a feeling that something is pulling mina by the naval towards a woman more infuriating than she can find a single word for in a vocabulary as broad as her own. her temper flares, though it doesn't take much effort to do so, sabine need only blink those doe like eyes in her direction and she feels it boiling swiftly over. giving into her, to the heat of resentment — she is powerless to this thing between them.                mina's eyes linger on the smirk tugging on her lips, so beautiful she hates her. "i'm over it." she snaps, as though it hasn't followed her through every encounter with sabine, as though she doesn't see the silken lengths of her hair and want to set herself on fire. "you're still a prick." she breathes, as she finds herself confronted with the hateful truth of it, that mina cannot move past it. she holds a grudge better than she does anything else — furious with sabine for being awful to her upon their first meeting, at her parents for lying her down on a doctor's table when they should have held her to their chests, at her sister for daring to die and leave her here all alone. she doesn't have it in her to let go.                closer and closer, mina's pale gaze trails slowly over sabine's face. "you're so..." the words a hot breath upon her lips, an unfinished sentence as mina leans into whatever it is that tugs her closer. a wish to touch her hair, the sharp line of her jaw so inviting she could sink her teeth in. the thin skin of her eyelids flicker closed, until the alert snaps them open once more and she clears her throat as she returns to the present. she frowns, reading the message and feeling her heartbeat increase — if it were possible. "shit... get your stuff. we'll go together." her fingers brush briskly over sabine's arm before a portal opens to the other woman's home, one last look in her direction before she runs to pack her own bag.

               wrath  boils,  boils,  boils  inside  of  her,  she’s  an  active  volcano  ready  to  erupt.  she  can’t  stand  the  sight  in  front  of  her,  yet  she’s  unable  to  tear  her  eyes  away.  mina  is  like  a  magnet  to  her  core  engulfed  in  iron,  and  no  matter  how  much  sabine  tries  to  resist  it,  she’s  there  nonetheless,  feet  glued  to  the  ground  that  still  spins  after  their  journey.  she  can  see  her  rage  mirrored  and  a  smirk  paints  her  features,  satisfied,  heartbeat  galloping  madly  between  her  lungs  as  she  approaches,  as  she  counters  back  and  her  smirk  is  replaced  by  a  scowl  and  a  scoff.                “  god,  mina,  get  the  fuck  over  it,  ”     it’s  on  her,  she  knows,  the  way  things  had  developed,  but  she  wasn’t  the  one  that  kept  them  that  way,  her  fury  is  nothing  but  an  answer  to  mina’s  hatred,  to  her  irritating  presence.     “  i  was  having  a  bad  day,  you  paid  for  it,  end  of  the  story.  will  you  ever  learn  to  fuckin  cope ?  ”     sabine  fists  her  hands,  clenching  and  unclenching,  knuckles  white  and  jaw  tense.  she  closes  the  distance,  almost  breathing  upon  mina’s  lips,  because  there  is  something  unexplainable  that  beckons  her  to  the  silver - haired  woman.  she’s  so  close  mina’s  perfume  invades  her,  making  her  mouth  water,  and  she  doesn’t  know  what  would’ve  happened  next  because  whatever  it  was,  it  gets  interrupted  by  the  alert  that  wakes  her  up  from  her  enraged  state,  snapping  her  out  of  it  with  a  slap  of  reality.     “  what  the  hell ?  ”     she  whispers,  and  looks  at  mina  with  worry  hidden  under  a  layer  of  bewilderment. 

[midniightspecial]

                                   she snorts, amused by jess's theatrics. enough time down here, and even mina finds herself seeking out the company of others. familiar faces in an enclosed space, the rumble of voices which seem to reach in from every corner. she prefers peace, quiet — and so the wine helps her bypass the social anxiety and dive straight into an evening of simply getting through it all. "glasses didn't seem like a priority at the time." she sighs, uncorking the bottle and taking a swig before handing it to jess. "i hate it down here, you know? i miss my work. my little desk... my books."

" would ya look at that !? nothin' short of a contraband expert ! " jess wondered if she, herself, could make some contraband ( besides balloons and cards ) appear... and she was pretty sure she could ! through the power of miming and making everything fun, anything was possible ! officially marked as something to keep in mind... alright, even though jess could not get drunk ( oh, how she wished she could experience what the humans and... most mutants did when they talked about it ! it sounded like so much fun ! ), she was always up for pretending ! it never changed her, but it usually made the other party more entertaining ! ergo... " oh, ya know i'm always up for a good drink. ya sneak in some real fancy glasses too, or are we drinkin' as god intended ? " see: chugging from the bottle.