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 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.]

[ Scout bares his teeth in some approximation of his usual smirk, though the expression doesn't meet his eyes. Those are sharp, but they dilate as Spy's hands go softer and his weight sinks further into the cradle of pelvis. What's Spy doing? ]

Why? You 'bout to give me a massage?

[ His own hands creak a little as he loosens his own grip on the other's wrists. After a moment's hesitation, he slides them up Spy's forearms, along the insides of pale wrists up go the crooks of his elbows. ]

Edited 2014-12-12 10:01 (UTC)

Not quite.

[Ah, what telling eyes you have, Scout. Spy's gaze is sharp as a hawk's, and he picks up the subtle change without much trouble. The stroke up his arms compels his grip to loosen. Then he's sliding his thumbs up and down the length of Scout's neck, scraping a bit with his nails on the downwards stroke.]

Peut-être-- [He catches himself, his voice rolling out of his chest at a low purr.] Maybe I 'ave somet'ing else in mind now.

[Shimmies his hips a little, possibly to make a point, possibly for the hell of it, he's not sure.]

[ Scout never really did have a very good pokerface, and his body is even more honest by the way it bows just a little for the scrape of nails down his throat. The suggestion in the other's voice and his hips elicit uncertainty, but by the flick of his gaze he's weighing out a memory, too. He swallows.

Then he's suddenly tightening his grip on Spy's elbows and trying to shove him back by them. Since it feels like most of Spy's weight is sitting on his pelvis, it feels like he should just pivot backwards with enough force. ]

You ain't worn out yet, old-timer?

[A chuckle rasps past his lips, the sound pushed out by the force of his back colliding with the floor.]

You need to t'ink of better insults, petit.

[He shakes out his arms to get a feel for the strength of Scout's grip. If possible, he'll return his hands to Scout's neck to continue his stroking. At least for now he can aim to wrap a leg around Scout's back, pushing his heel against his favorite back-stabbing point.]

[ The younger man's head twitches as if he's going to avoid the touch, but ultimately he lets Spy do it in favor of moving his own hands down to the man's shoulders. His back bows a little under the pressure, one hand going back to encircle the knee of that leg. ]

Whuteva! All you do is call me stuff in French - you can't even say it in a language I understand, it's so bad!

What's conrad even mean, anyway?

[ Someone pays attention to their pet names, even if they can't pronounce it for shit. ]

Edited 2014-12-12 10:48 (UTC)

Connard. It 'as many connotations, but for t'e sake of simplicity, let's say it means "ass'ole". Sometimes you're just better off not knowing what I say to you.

[Which is the whole point of him speaking in French, anyway. Aside from the moments when he just forgets.

He's aware of the arm around his leg, and it makes him wary, not that he shows it outwardly. Instead, he'll try to use it to lower Scout's body. At the same time, he pulls Scout down by his neck.]

You've still got somet'ing on your lip.

[ The arm is mostly there to make sure Spy doesn't get any crazy ideas about kicking him in the kidneys or his spine, but it also squeezes that knee in warning even as he leans over the other man. His eyes narrow down at Spy, wary, gauging.

The tip of his tongue pokes out between his lips and swipes over the broken skin. His breath smells like blood as it wafts warm over the other's face. ]

Did I get it?

'Old on.

[Spy smirks a wordless warning before lifting his head to lick at Scout's lip. The smell of blood should be a turn off, and it certainly gets his stomach to roll at least once in his torso, but Spy knows he did that. That's his mark on this bloody asshole's face, and there's something satisfying about that.]

[ Scout lets him. It stings, and maybe it's all the tussling or the pain, but his breathing is a bit thicker. He lowers his head a little further, until his nose is almost brushing Spy's splint.]

I'm not doin' you.

[ He feels the same way about the spatter on Spy's face as Spy does about the blood, but as far as he's concerned, it can stay. ]

[Considering their proximity, Spy is tempted to nip that split lip, but he refrains.]

Okay.

[He tilts his head back as if he were contemplating his teammate's face. At this point, he figures he can take a little more abuse, save for another hit to the nose of course. So why not push it a little more?

Carefully, he moves forward to kiss Scout this time around.]

[ Believe it or not, Scout hasn't been kissed in a long time... And he's going to have to wait a bit longer, as he jerks his head back when Spy tries to close the distance once again. Not only would that would have been gay as all hell ~~because none of the other things he's let Spy do were~~, but he's just heard the characteristic click of the security door opening down the hall.

Must be food, considering no one's ever come when they've been doing a lot worse than almost kissing on the floor of their cell.

Scout pats one of Spy's cheeks with his free hand, trying to pull the leg around him off with the other so he can quickly get up. ]

[The flinch is a clear rejection, so Spy falls back without resistence. He heard the click, too, so he goes slack, releasing his teammate from his grip entirely, pulling his arms and leg back.

However, he is content to lie on the ground a little longer to catch his breath. Calming down means letting any remaining adrenalin in his system ebb away, leaving him with pain and soreness. As a second thought, he licks his thumb and tries to rub at where he can feel the blood drying on his face.]

[ Scout goes to get their food, where he has a conversation with the guard starting with the question "Is he dead?" ]

No, he's layin' on the floor cuz I kicked his ass and you took his fuckin' bed!

[ Spy will have time to recover while Scout it trying to have it out with the guard through the door, though it's not terribly long until he's turning back and putting the food on the table. One of his biggest problems with being trapped in this cell is that anyone can win an argument with him just by walking away. Well, everyone except Spy. ]

Yo, you better get up before I eat ya food.

Are you spreading lies, Scout?

[Rubs at his face a bit more before getting up. Yeah, he probably missed most of that blood.]

Telling people you "kicked my ass" to make yourself feel better?

[There's no real malice in his tone, but he does parrot Scout's voice because he can. He wears a wry smile, coming to the table to inspect his food.]

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