tosbox | making my way downtown

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making my way downtown

[The big issue here isn't getting fired. No, Spy will be fine for now, considering all that he's saved. Losing a resource as powerful as RED and Mann Co in general is a blow indeed, but Spy can get by. Right now, he's more concerned about living and making sure none of his loose ends catch up to him.

Most of the things he's taking back with him are either essential or expensive. The weapon magazines and catalogues sent by RED are still sitting in his old quarters, along with some leisure books and even some pieces of his old uniform. The suit has always been a part of his look, so he keeps some of it; they make for some decent padding for the wine stored in the trunk of his car.

With his tie slung around his neck and his jacket over his arm, Spy makes a mental checklist of all he needs. His life is pretty much stowed away in his wallet: bank cards, multiple IDs, cash, miniature cloaking device, plane tickets... He pats his pants pocket for the only thing that doesn't fit in his wallet: his passport. Not that he'll need it for the flight, but it's good to have these things just in case.

A tiny part of his brain nags at him, urging him to feel sentimental about leaving his workplace of over four years. But to hell with that - god knows this won't be the last he's seen of them.

When Scout hobbles up to his car, a mess of stupidity and arm casts, Spy is tempted to slam the door in his face and make him eat his dust trail. But, of course, the little mongrel has to pull the mother card and all of a sudden Spy feels responsible.]

I have a jet leaving in fifty minutes. You've got twenty. Get in the car.

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[Their latest plan is supposed to be put into action today, but as they're strolling into the shower room, the guard closest to the door grabs Spy's arm. He's noticed Spy's mask, apparently, says it's real strange to shower with it on. Even stranger still that Spy has done it for the entirety of his imprisonment. Spy is about to walk away from him and flip him off until the guard begins plucking at the mask, tugging it out of place. Spy has just enough time to retrieve his cloaking device from the base of his skull before he's knocked out of the guard's grip by a fist to the face.

His mask is a sensitive spot, but it hadn't been much of an issue with RED. In fact, it had been pushed by the company, and the idea of keeping his identity a secret with such a blatant disguise has been ingrained in him due to the years spent working with RED. Right now, however, it provides him zero assistance as it stretches over his eyes, thanks to that guard's earlier manhandling. He doesn't see another punch to the face coming and when it does, it lands right on his big nose.

There are hands around his throat by the time security pulls his assailant away. Spy has just enough time to identify his attacker as their new cellmate before he's getting pulled to his feet by other guards.]

[ Scout originally proceeds as usual, figuring he and Spy would split off and he'd give the man a moment to take out the guard while stalling at his own locker. That isn't the case, as he notices Spy being pulled aside by said guard. Ok, no big deal, even amusing because Spy's just going to stab the guy to death, right? It's part of the plan...?

Wrong.

It goes real wrong when he sees their up till now cell-mate beeline for Spy while he's distracted. Scout's pretending like he's disrobing and obviously so the whole time, tugging at his shirt here and there. The guy knocks Spy full on the face, away from the guard who was pawing him, giving him a one-two. It's the moment that Spy seems stunned and the guard seems to do nothing that this becomes an issue in Scout's mind.

Once it is, well, fortunately he's both quick and ignorant about any of his own ailments or short-comings. He runs a five meter in three seconds, bounding over a bench and leaping right onto their cellmate despite security, taking no time in latching on with his knees and just going balls to the wall on the guy's head with his fists. Of course he's yelling murder the whole damn time. He doesn't get too many blows in before security has swarmed enough to pull him off; the guy just may live. Scout doesn't get to have a shower, but gets thrown right back into his cell. No Spy, though. Shit.

As he usually does whenever he's amped up good, Scout's circling the cell for a while. ]

[Spy would have run right out of the infirmary if not for the barricade of guards blocking the exit. This isn't the first time his nose has been broken before, and it healed fine without a splint, but the doctor insists that the crookedness is a result of the blow he'd been dealt today, not the last time, and so Spy definitely needs a splint now. It's bulky, it's restrictive, and it's plain ugly.

When Spy is sent on his merry way, calmed down with some light pain killers, he is downright gloomy. A storm cloud floats above his head, but unfortunately, it's not enough to cover the fact that his face is revealed, minus the part hidden by the splint, due to the fact that his mask doesn't fit over the splint and that any attempts to put it on aggravates it too much. It doesn't require much imagination to fill in the blanks, however, and he's much too aware of this.

His dark brown hair has gotten longer during their stay here Teufort, though Spy has tried his hardest to sweep it up and away from his face. At least this morning he had tended to his facial hair. A shadow is creeping back to the surface, though, broken by the lines in his face produced by his scowl.

There's not much fight to his step as he's pushed back into the cell. Yeah, he's going to be looking at the ground to avoid bringing attention to his face.]

Edited 2014-12-07 10:23 (UTC)

[ Of course Scout's up, Scout's agitated, and when he sees a guard come to his cell he's half tempted to leap out as soon as the door's opened. He doesn't know how to get around this place, though, much as he tried to memorize it. He'll need Spy for that, and he's in the infirm. He can't be dead just from a couple taps to the face. Except there's someone he doesn't recognize coming in through the door, neither friend nor foe that he knows. ]

Who da hell is this?

[ He asks the guard right away, gesturing to the dark-haired stranger irritably. ]

You been drinkin' again, Spinelli? Dis guy ain't wid me!

[ But even as he says there's... something. There's something about the way the stranger moves that isn't so strange, and the cadence of his steps, even the way he breathes is something familiar. Scout's coming to the realization even before the guard replies, "He's been here just as long as you, kid."

Scout stops his pacing about at the back of the cell and moves to the fore, right up into Spy's path if he can make it. His blue eyes are alight. ]

Ho-ly crap.

[ His face is beginning to crack a little, a tentative grin at the edges of his lips. Like a kid who's gone out to the garage on Christmas morning and found a four-wheeler.

Is this real life? ]

Oh man! No frickin' way... Spy?

Edited 2014-12-07 10:57 (UTC)

[Scout's inability to recognize him at first makes him bristle, but only for a moment. Then he's left wondering if he should thank the mask for being an effective disguise or if Scout's just that stupid.

There's an instance of conflict as Spy debates whether or not he should lift his head to examine his teammate's well-being - he did hear Scout charging their would-be cellmate after all - and risk revealing his face further, but seeing as he'll be wearing this stupid splint for at least a few days' time, Scout should be getting an eye-ful of it anyway.

While he puts one hand on his hip to widen his stance, there's something reserved about the way he brushes his hair out of his face when he finally looks up to address his teammate. It's not out of the ordinary to have Scout in his personal space, but it takes some effort not to flinch back.]

Yes, Scout, it's me. T'ere's no need to sound so surprised.

[Or look so goddamn smug. A scowl starts to stretch Spy's lips.]

Good to see you're doing so well, mon petit.

[ Scout puts his hands on his head and puffs a breath of revelation, which soon stretches out into a long wolf whistle. You didn't expect him to take this gracefully, did you, Spy? ]

You know, I kinda thought you might have some horrible skin thing goin on under there.

[ He almost thought Spy was just smoke trapped in a fleshy prison. ]

Jesus, what's wit all da hair, ya hippy?

[ He starts to laugh a little, a shit-eating grin just stretched ear to ear.

As far as he goes, yeah, he's alright. The guy he went jockey on didn't hurt him and the cops only beat his ass a little. The bumps and bruises will be tender, but he didn't pull his stitches and he didn't have to get a splint on his nose like Spy. ]

Oh man, dis? Dis is good.

[Speaking of smoke, Spy goes into his jumpsuit to find his box of cigarettes and lights up, relishing in the opportunity to occupy his mouth and his hands. The bristling has returned full force, his shoulders taut with indignation.]

I don't see what all t'is commotion is about. It's my face. You 'ave one, too, t'ough much less 'andsome t'an mine.

[While his expression is calm, the underlying snarl in his tone betrays his words.]

Ok, if it ain't such a big deal, then why'd you fight tooth an' nail ta keep it on? I mean, you even showered widda friggin thing!

[ While Spy is distracted, Scout tries to reach up and pat his stubbled cheek. ]

Hey if they fixed ya nose, maybe you won't look half bad.

[ And he steps back, pleased with how ruffled the older merc is. He's tempted to ask if their old cell mate is dead yet, but even if he isn't, they shouldn't be seeing him again any time soon. ]

[Though he doesn't flinch away from his teammate's touch, he does blow smoke in his direction.]

If I revealed my appearance to t'e world, I'm afraid I'd be swarmed by every 'uman being wit'in a five kilometer radius who would like to 'ave a taste of Monsieur Spy.

[He takes a deep drag to help calm his nerves down. Smoke billows from his mouth as he pulls on a wry smile.]

For instance, look to yourself - I will take t'at as a badly 'idden compliment t'at arose from t'e deep sea of your denial.

Psh! It's a free country, bruddah, you can believe what you want, don't make it true.

[ He swats away the smoke and goes to the bed, pulling himself up to the top frame to perch. ]

Only thing that's true is I'm stinkin now cuza you. How'd you not see dat comin?

[His habit of touching his face is worse now, even despite the fact that he is smoking. One hand taps ash from his cigarette and the other draws fingertips over his cheeks.]

Not see what coming? T'e blow to t'e face, or your continued denial towards me?

You let a guy sneak up on you. How's that happen?

[ Not touching the other thing, even if he catches himself glancing. It's just... So weird. ]

[He scowls.]

I cannot be perfect all t'e time, if you can believe it.

[As much as he wants to believe the mask isn't a big deal, his reaction to having it pulled is enough of a giveaway. Still, denial is something he can practice, too.]

What about you, letting yourself get stabbed t'e last time you tried to distract t'e guard?

[ Shrug. ]

I got Jumped by three guys and hey, it still worked as a distraction. You was supposed ta get us out today but you let that big mook take you out. I'd say dat's way different.

You fucked up.

[Spy turns on his heel and stubs his cigarette out.]

Fine, I made a mistake. I will learn from it and move on. Are you 'appy wit' t'at, or do you want me to get down on my knees, too?

Sure, go 'head.

[ Smiiiiirk. That'll be the day! ]

[He chuckles dryly.]

Speaking of "'ead"...

[He makes a crude gesture.]

You don't deserve t'at quite yet, I'm afraid.

I dunno, I mighta killed dat guy. You kinda owe me one.

[ Yeah fucking right. ]

Edited 2014-12-08 04:08 (UTC)

Come now, my kill count 'ere is 'igher t'an yours. You'll 'ave to do better t'an t'at.

[He brushes his lower lip with his thumb.]

Plus, I doubt you'd last longer t'an two minutes.

Whuddeva, you did that fer--

[ He scoffs. Spy's probably about right, not that he thinks so. ]

All I'm hearin' right now is you really like dick in ya mouth.

[ These games of gay chicken have really started to desensitize him, he's realizing. ]

You lose dat knife I gave you?

I've 'ad worse t'ings. Drugs, for instance. Questionable prison food. T'e works.

[Spy has noticed, too. Either way, Scout is still very easy to play, which means high morale for Spy.

Nonetheless, he won't push it too much. Instead, he roots around the many spaces in his jumpsuit.]

I still 'ave it. Why?

[ ...There's no damn way the food is that bad, come on. And Scout actually kind of likes the drugs insomuch as they keep him from wanting to scream with no place to fucking run. ]

I dunno, I figured they mighta searched ya.

[ He wanted to move off the topic. ]

Next time for sure, den.

[It's a weak attempt and Spy is ready to pick it apart.]

T'ey did, but did you t'ink I'd keep it in a place t'ey would notice? Please.

Not only do you make t'e mistake of underestimating me, but you also play a poor game of trying to change t'e subject. Fellatio is not about t'e taste, mon petit.

[He grins, purring the nickname.]

Dunno, you were pretty off yer game today.

[ Not gonna let that go any time soon. ]

Da fuck's dat supposed ta mean?

[ Multiple meanings here, take your pick. ]

Edited 2014-12-08 05:15 (UTC)

[Approaching the bed now, closing the distance between them with slow steps.]

It's about t'e look on your partner's face, t'e 'ands in your 'air, t'e sounds from t'eir lips...

[He stops about a foot away from the bed, a finger pressed against his own lips.]

What exactly is it t'at you want me to do to compensate for my mistake today?

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