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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[Spy is also aware that all of his weight is in his upper body, so he has trained himself to stay low to the ground to make up for his otherwise unstable balance. Dodging will always bring him lower, so when Scout throws the elbow in his face, he bends at the knee, shuffling backwards again. It catches the top of his head, however, since Spy is taller than scout, and while he flinches, it doesn't throw him off.

It doesn't help with the circling, though, since he's still not fast enough to keep up with Scout completely.]

Using pet names now, hmm?

[He pivots on his heel to try and keep up with the circling, then he puts the rest of his weight on that foot in order to throw a sweeping kick at Scout's feet. It's doubtful it'll connect, and Spy's counting on that-- if Scout jumps over it, he'll spring up on his other leg and aim his knee at whatever's closest.]

Sure, if dat makes you my b--

[ Spy gets it right, he jumps over the sweep, though he also aims a kick at Spy that's supposed to hit the other man in the hip and throw him off balance. Instead he slams his heel against that oncoming knee. ]

Oh shit.

[ He stumbles back, eyes widened a bit. Whoops. How bad did that hurt, Spy? ]

Crisse de ma vie!

[As he'd said earlier, Spy's body is getting out of shape. His usual threshold for pain has been lowered, and the impact of to his knee gets him to the ground faster than he can spit a curse from his mouth.

Pissed and in pain, Spy uses his good leg to lunge forward, throwing a fist aimed at Scout's stomach. If he misses, he'll tuck into a roll that should get his back pressed against the bed frame.]

[ Scout's between panic and laughter ~~and maybe a little concern~~ to see Spy go down. He considers apologizing, but he's also got some sort of chaotic glee going on for just how much trouble he might be in, too. All things considered, he should probably be running, not taking a step towards the older man, fists lowered. The punch does catch him right in the gut, even if he did try to spring back at the last minute. ]

Sh--

[ He clutches his middle with an arm and stumbles back, wayward and barely keeping on his feet as he gives a dry heave, then another. ]

J-- [ A breath. ] Jesus, asshole, it was an accident!

[ He walks after Spy, trying to decide on the way whether or not he's going to kick the man while he's down for making his stomach try to regurgitate breakfast and bile for him. ]

[A wide, wide smile stretches Spy's mouth. He's asking for it with a smile like that, he knows it will provoke Scout, and he wants it. The pain in his body sparks something in him and god he hates Scout so much. He wants to grab him by the shirt and shake his brains out, pin him down and give him what he deserves. He craves that physicality in order to communicate what he chooses not to say, to communicate what he can't say.]

All's fair in love and war, mon chéri.

[Crouched and still leaning his weight on his good leg, he stays close to the ground.]

[ Scout rolls his eyes, taking the look and the response as a signal that Spy's still down to fight. Good. ]

Alright, pal, you asked fer it.

[ As he approaches, he swings a foot out, catching one of the stools at the little table on his toes and kicking it right at Spy. He suspects the other is trying to lure him in close for some sort of take-down, but he's not going to make it easy for him. Scout follows after the stool; if Spy doesn't move quick he stands a chance of getting pinned with it against the bed while Scout uses his free hand to punch at him. If he does move, which is what Scout expects, he'll have the younger man kicking after him. ]

[So they're using props now, are they? He dodges the stool, only to have Scout's feet in his space. The wind is knocked out of his chest when they make contact, but he'll be grabbing after Scout's ankles as they come closer, hoping to yank him off balance, taking a ragged gasp for breath all the while.]

[ All's fair, right?

He gets a vicious little streak of satisfaction to feel an actual impact, and to witness how it makes Spy reel. He's not trying to kill the other man, but he isn't holding back from roughing him up a bit anymore. The other grabs for his ankles, and Scout can't say he didn't see that one coming. His response is to set one foot firm and aim a knee into the side of the other man's head. If Spy still has the presence of mind to be yanking at him during that, he'll be pulled over and fall onto the bed. It's worth the little sacrifice in balance, though, he thinks, to give his comrade a reminder of just how easy it would have been to break his damn nose again.

Scout even manages to tut at the older man as he does it. ]

[While Scout's initial kicks wind him and blur his vision for a moment, the pain gives him a certain clarity, that fight or flight response kicking his body into overdrive. It's a bit close to being back on the field, but not quite, seeing as they lack the dust and the heat.

With their reestablished proximity and Spy's hyper-awareness of his face, he tries to dodge the knee to his head, but it still clips his ear and the side of his face. Having Scout's leg close to his body gives Spy easier access and he yanks as hard as he can. When Scout's voice reaches his ears, he tugs harder, throwing his weight into it, hoping to drag his teammate to the floor.]

[ Scout curses as he feels himself yanked down. Instead of falling harmlessly on the bed, he's being dragged onto the floor by the other's weight, exactly what he told himself he wasn't going to let Spy do. Damn it.

He kicks the other man, not caring where it lands, already trying to scrabble up from the cold tile by pulling at the bed frame. He's twisted in an effort to keep an eye on Spy and have access to him both while he tries to stand or at least heave himself onto the mattress. He snarls at the other in turn. ]

[That wiggling appendage in his grip makes it difficult to hold on, but Spy is about as stubborn as Scout is when he wants to be, and that desire to pin and dominate flares strongly in his movements.

Scout's other foot kicking at him blows air out of his chest again, landing on his side, and Spy responds with another gasp, its edges roughened with a groan of pain. It has the opposite effect of what Scout wants-- Spy holds on tighter. He can see what Scout is trying to do and he's not going to have that if he can help it.

Spy hugs Scout's leg to his chest and folds at the waist, trying to launch into a roll by springing forward with his legs with the intent of throwing Scout onto his back.]

[ Scout's about to haul off and hit him again when Spy rams him. He gets torn from the bed frame, half on his back, half on his side, all pissed off. He rolls onto his back, aiming a punch right at the other's ear and trying to push himself back with his free foot at the same time. ]

Nuh uh, asshole!

[Spy tugs hard again, heaving his exhale as he does so.]

More pet names? T'es pas imaginatif, connard!

[As if Spy is much better. His ragged breath rattles his words somewhat, not that Scout can understand him. The punch to his ear draws a yelp from him and he finally lets go in favor of clutching his head. The pause should give Scout enough time to recover, maybe even stand, but then Spy's lunging at his legs again, using an elbow to lash out. It's a bit of a moot point since Scout is faster than him, but he'll try, dammit, poised to roll if he misses.]

[ Scout huffs an aggressive breath in reply, turning into a ha! of triumph as Spy yelps. Scout uses the time to recover. He doesn't use it to try and get away, however, at least not like before. He uses it to push himself back just enough to springload his legs, at which point Spy will find his lunge is met with a tackle of Scout's own, two opposing forces clashing. Of course, Scout's goal is to try and pin Spy, or at least get in as many little hits over the other's body as possible while they're rolling around. ]

[Their clash knocks the wind out of him again, only made worse as he ends up flat on his back. His head flinches back instinctively as he draws in quick, shallow breaths. Then he reaches out to grab Scout by the front of his shirt with one hand while the other aims a punch to his jaw.]

[ He takes it full on, grunting as he's almost knocked sideways; his mind reels off anyway. His weight sags onto Spy a little and his goddamn teeth feel loose on that side. That's gonna bruise alright.

But he's also huffing a laugh, because he's still on top and he's trying to grab hold of Spy's wrists to force them back on the floor. He grins down at the other man, sucking the blood that wells up from his split lip thoughtlessly. He's either punch-drunk or insane or both. ]

That all you got?

[His eyes flicker down to Scout's lip as he sucks at it. It's a brief moment of curiosity as he takes in a sharp inhale, trying to set his breathing back into a normal rhythm, trying to clear his head a little bit from the haze of pain and lack of air.]

You want more? I can give you more.

[His response is rasped out just before he launches back into action. One of his hands gets taken, but the one in Scout's shirt pulls, drawing out of reach and drawing his teammate closer. He hopes it's enough to throw the balance so that he can roll them over with his shoulder and legs.]

[ Dizzy as he is, it's not hard to get Scout top-heavy and leaning down into Spy's chest. Feeling the other man trying to roll them over, however, he lets Spy go in favor of splaying his arms out on either side of them, not quite willing to give up his vantage point just yet. With persistence, though, he'll have to buckle, and when he feels like that's happening, well. He tries to stand up instead of just rolling with it. ]

[Scout's arms catch his movement, but he tries harder to roll them over. Now that his arm is free, he grasps at the front of Scout's shirt, hoping to pull him closer again, seeking a workable balance. While he's at it, he throws a leg up, aiming to catch Scout on the back of his knee or thigh to secure his teammate in his grip.]

[ Shit. He's caught. He could headbutt Spy right now and maybe it'd bring some release before the man manages to roll them over. He goes for something much more disgusting - he spits blood right in Spy's face. ]

[Oh. Oh, that is the opposite of cool.

Spy's eyes widen and he tenses, stilling for a second. Then his leg clamps down and both hands go for Scout's neck. Using his core, he tries to twist them over, using the weight in his upper body to push Scout while lunging for his throat.]

[ This would be hilarious... if it didn't have the opposite effect of what he intended, because now Spy's clamped hands on Scout's throat and him grabbing Spy's wrists make it easy for the other man to finally roll them over. Still, Scout manages to look defiant, like the incorrigible little snot he is even as his throat flexes under Spy's hands and he kicks the floor. He squeezes the older man's wrists, trying to pry them off or at least keep them from getting a really troublesome grip on him. ]

[Once Spy is finally on top, he doesn't apply pressure to Scout's neck, but he maintains the grip to pin him to the floor. He uses the hold to support his weight as he adjusts his bottom half to cover Scout's hips with his own, trying to keep him in place.

The warm wetness on his face elicits a full body shiver. Then he's shaking his head like a dog in a weak attempt to get it off.]

Fils de pute... T'es quelqu'un fuyant, hein?

[ His adam's apple bobs in protest under the pressure as Spy adjusts himself, registering a small, choked noise. It's the slide of hips across his own that get him to tense and still, but it would be a paramount mistake to think he'd given up.

As Spy shivers and shakes his head, Scout snickers a bit, more vibration under the other's fingers than a sound. ]

Red's your color, hun.

[ He doesn't know what Spy is saying, of course, but he imagines it's something about how gross that was. ]

If you want me to wear more of it, I could just gut you like a cornish game 'en as I am always wishing to do.

[He opens his hands up slightly, just enough to slide his thumbs upward. The heels of his palms maintain a light pressure against Scout's throat as he strokes Scout's jaw with his thumbs.]

Now, 'ow are we feeling about t'at tension, hmm?

[This is far from over, he knows, so he'll keep a tight hold on everything he can reach. He settles his weight a little more firmly across Scout's pelvis, his fingers sliding under the base of Scout's skull.]

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