#KLSDFHLKDSFLKSDLKF

[stigmvtas]

Lost in the moment; maybe relishing in it - maybe into it; theatrical to a fault, must run in the blood considering all that Rosa does - Viktor only broke off into hysterical giggles, half - sob and half something maniacal; call a doctor, honestly - hands further grasping at Mercy's collar. Barely registered what was going to happen, neck craned up, exposed to the sky as they let out guttural sobs like any good, true mourner; all the practice from their imaginary rich husbands' funerals. Barely registered the jar hitting their head when it did happen - glass shattering upon impact, cutting into their skin and falling across the table, "Fuck!" Gasped out - a little breathy, a little hor - no time to make joke as they're tossed forward, hair in Mercy's fists - nose breaking upon contact with the plastic; shard of glass just barely missing Viktor's eye. "Fuck!" More of a yell, this time - fist swinging down onto the table like a baby's fit - further knocking other jars down. They stayed down for a moment - like they had given up; unsuspecting when they lurched forward and toppled over Mercy, pulling them onto the ground together. "Fucking kinky -" Viktor spat - literally, right onto his cheek - a light slap afterwards - and a stronger punch following; somewhere a mother shrieked, covered her child's eyes; they were in public, after all. Family fun day for exactly none, now - wiping blood from a cut on their cheek before wiping it onto Mercy's own, a particular snarl emerging from Viktor's chest. "Are you gonna punch me back or what, fucker? Make it worth my time - fucking better punch hard. Better knock me the fuck out."

The second Viktor started screaming bloody murder, Mercy regretted his display moments before almost immediately. Not because he didn’t like causing mayhem or being a bother, but Jesus Christ, Viktor was so fucking loud. And dramatic. Mercy wasn’t sure what he expected, but just when he thought they couldn’t get any more annoying, they seemed to take it as a personal challenge. Maybe they could read minds, knew exactly what would get Mercy to consider yanking his eyes out of their sockets or shove knives into his ears until they were so damaged he went deaf. “You obviously don’t give a flying fuck about your family if you left them so vulnerable to be fuckin’ murdered. Re-murdered.” Watching jars tumble to their doom, one caught Mercy’s eye - it was nothing but cheap fake dollar store jewels and glitter stuffed inside, but when he caught it automatically, he thought the least he could do was shove it into his jacket and run off with it. Just to be a further nuisance. But Viktor had other plans, crawling across the table and screaming in Mercy’s face, grasping at his shirt, his jacket - it was the first time he felt truly pissed. “Okay, fucking relax.” He spat, hand pushing at the base of Viktor’s neck to ward him off. Mercy hated when people got into his face more than anything - frankly, when anybody invaded his space in general. It made his hackles rise, turning him feral in the worst way possible. So when Viktor chose to ignore his warning, instead continuing to cling at Mercy and his clothing, he reacted in the only way he knew how. Suddenly the jar he’d caught was still in his hand, and then the next second he was shattering it off Viktor’s temple, pushing them back and onto their plastic table. Using their momentary stunned silence, Mercy didn’t feel quite satisfied enough - not until he gripped at their hair and lifted their head, smashing it once off the top of their table. It was just plastic, they’d live. “I said. Fucking. Relax.”