maskormenacelogs | I broke a million hearts just for fun

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I broke a million hearts just for fun

WHO: Mick + Len + Will
WHERE: Rogue house
WHEN: After Mick's post
WHAT: A soap opera tbh
WARNINGS: Mentions of nudity probably

He arrives without a dog.

Because he is the dog. It's a weird thing, really. He'd worn various names back home, been accused of being a nicknamed killer, but Charcoal? He'd actually liked the burden of that new name. He'd actually enjoyed getting to run around with his tongue hanging out and Matches gnawing on his ears. He'd been fond of Charcoal, and now he had to give up the mantle.

It was a sad day, a burying of identities. He throws on his darkest jeans to reflect this internal funeral. Dark jeans, a green plaid button up, the usual, finds Will Graham at the door of a house he knows better from the floor than his current line of sight. He hasn't considered that his escapes have been noticed. He hasn't thought about it at all. He has no clue that, even clothed, there are folks inside the house or near it who might just find his unruly curls, his height, his skin tone...they might be able to put the pieces together.

As far as Will is concerned, he's just here to give Mick the bad news that there is no Charcoal except for when Will feels like being Charcoal.

He isn't prepared for more than that.

He rings the doorbell after a few seconds of bracing himself for Mick's potential disappointment. Or disgust. Maybe. He's not sure. He just knows the jig is up, the news is out, it's time to finally face facts and go from there.

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Mick is expecting him, and comes to the door, opening it wide. Since he's expecting someone who does have a dog, he doesn't actually know this is the person from the network. Who is this strange person with no Charcoal in sight?

Suddenly, Matches comes bounding up, sniffing Will's pant leg before getting too short, happy barks. Her tail is wagging. She might not recognize Will in this form, but she totally recognizes his scent.

"Down, girl. Sorry about the dog --"

So strange. The strangest. Will immediately leans down with his hand extended for her to get some sniffs and licks, so Will can reach around and scratch her ears. He smiles, too, broad and happy, like greeting an old friend rather than just being super excited that a dog exists.

"Hey, Matches. Hey. You know who I am. Don't you, girl?" That's a strange thing to say to a dog he's just met, isn't it. Will looks up, and maybe there's something familiar in the gesture, watching Mick from below, and maybe there isn't. Either way... "Mind if I come in?"

That's weird, Mick never said his dog's name. Matches seems to like him, and vice versa so at least that's the point in his favour. There's something odd about this man, but Mick isn't sure what it is. A weird feeling, he supposes.

After a moment's hesitation and remembering he has his heat gun in his pocket he steps aside, letting Will into the house. Where just about anyone could see him.

"What's this about?" There is definitely a note of suspicion in his voice and expression.

Since he heard Mick talk in the hallway, Leonard eventually left his room, closing the door behind himself. He wasn't sure exactly what he was expecting. He knew it hadn't been that.

Of course he recognised him. That hair, body-type and even the way he held himself. Leonard was good at observation and this particular image was burned into his mind. He moved past Mick without an explanation and grabbed Will by the collar, pulling him up. He used his free hand to pet Matches reassuringly, nothing like multitasking.

Then he slammed Will against the wall and punched him. Not as hard as he could have, he'd like him to be conscious for the second punch. First he lowered his fist though, eyes narrowed at Will as he nodded toward Mick. "Answer his question, pervert."

Will is, perhaps surprisingly, rather noodle-like throughout this whole meet and greet featuring fist! There is little to no resistance, questioning, or lashing out in return for this most heinous welcome to our home. Quite the opposite. Will takes a far more well, this is happening, better might as ride it out and see where it goes approach. Eyebrows go up and he shows surprise, yes, but it's muted and not coupled with shouts or kicks. The punch all but knocks that surprise out of him; when he looks back at the newcomer, Will gives off that bored vibe. Even if he's got a busted nose streaming blood down his face, it's always the bored vibe.

He looks at Mick, because it's only polite to look at who he's speaking to. Also a potential good way to see how this guy handles not having attention from the folks he's giving a bruising.

"S'about Charcoal. The dog." There's a pause. For drama, for the fact he needs to fix his jaw, either or. "It's me. I'm Charcoal."

He doesn't even question the pervert thing. He's sure it'll work itself out soon enough.

Edited 2016-10-04 21:55 (UTC)

"Len, what the hell–- !"

It all happened so fast, to say Mick was taken by surprise is an understatement. Meanwhile, Matches is barking at Len.

But when Will opens his mouth and answers, the pyro can't help but stare at him. He opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. He groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The guy looks so pathetic bleeding there, and he's not even fighting back.

"Mother of god, Cold, let him go."

Mick is desperately trying to keep track with what's going on, but even for a man used to fighting speedsters it still feels like he's slow and missing something. Several somethings.

He addresses Will now."What d'you mean you're Charcoal?"

While Len does have a temper - far more of one than his moniker and his pretence when calm gives away - he also has himself very well under control and he's not riled up that easily. He's asked Will to answer Mick and he's punched him already, he has no issue with letting go and stepping back, until he can lean against the wall instead. He slides down until he's crouching, his eyes on both Mick and Will as he gently scratches behind Matches' ears to make up for the violence.

"Ah. Pervert and furry." He wasn't a bigot, those could be mutually exclusive. Not in this case though.

Oh, thank God. Being let go has a hand going to roll down one sleeve immediately so he can bring the cuff up to his nose to staunch the worst of it. Bleeding all over the place would just be rude of him, and rudeness doesn't always mean he should give rudeness right back in return. He sort of likes Mick, anyway, which is part of the problem here. He wasn't supposed to get attached in his doggie wandering. But being a dog made that difficult. He'd gladly freebleed all over Ice Ice Punchy's everything, but Mick? He's fond of the guy. Life is hard.

Then again, giving Sir Hit-A-Lot the cold shoulder is a bit rude in and of itself.

"S'one of my powers." His voice is a bit muffled, blood and plaid in the way, but he is careful to enunciate, keeping his eyes on Matches. Maybe that doesn't help the furry impression. Hell if he cares. Matches is his buddy, damn it. Buddies don't (usually) like to see each other get punched in the snout. His free hand goes to a hip, cocked out, standing there like this is a normal conversation to have. Aggravating, maybe, but not weird. "I was tryin' 'em out when you found me the first time. In the dog park."

Mick has seen a lot weird–ass shit in his life. A psychic gorilla was a recurring figure in his life. And that's just the furry tip of the iceberg. So while he has never had a pet turn out to be a grown man before, he believes him. It would explain a lot of things. Why Charcoal seemed so smart, why he immediately started answering that name, why the dog had no owner (he WAS his own owner), why he always seemed to mysteriously disappear -- god, maybe he hadn't been forgetting to close the doors or windows.

Not everything adds up, though. "Why didn't you make a break for it when I tried picking you up?"

And then, a moment's thought. He looks at Len. "Wait, not that pervert?"

"That pervert." It's all Len says, because the meaning of 'See, I had every right to hit him!' was conveyed clearly enough through his tone. As well as his expression and the way he's leaning, somehow. He isn't sure what else he could do about this, but having punched the man seems like a pretty solid start.

His wrist twists to put less bloody cloth against his nose, applying a bit more pressure. He's tempted to make a break for the kitchen to get some ice and a real cloth, but he's not sure he has the ability to move out of sight without incurring more violence. He looks to Len, finally, the bored vibe replaced with dry sarcasm, rudeness. It's not often Will has no idea what is being referenced and he can't say he likes it.

"What pervert?"

Even with the taste of his own blood on his tongue, he manages to be a smartass.

Mick is a nice guy. But he was also a Rogue, and honestly used to a Captain Cold punching people. The idea of getting ice or cloths just does not occur to him. There is a limit to his domesticity and this, apparently, was it. He might after this is cleared up, who knows.

"Cold's the one that saw the naked man." Well, him and Axel, but the kid's not here (thankfully). He looks at Len. "You sure it's the same guy?"

Which would explain why Len punched him. Mick is finally starting to get the full picture.

"Of course I'm sure. But if you'd rather he drop his pants and show his ass..." Leonard make an inviting gesture with his free hand, at the same time letting his head fall back against the wall, one shoulder lifting slightly. "...make him."

The fact of the matter is that he is certain. He's not in the habit of punching strangers just for the hell of it. Friends, sometimes.

Up goes an eyebrow. Saw the naked man, then talks about Will baring his ass. He's putting things together as quickly as possible, dropping his bloody hand when it seems the flow is finished. This leaves him looking like he's just torn into something alive with his bare teeth, but eh. It's a good look on him, depending who gets asked.

"You saw me leave." Ah. Ah. He stands there, plaid and drying blood and sudden realization of why he got punched. "Guess it wasn't dark enough out."

He makes no move to drop trou. Willy don't play that game.

Mick raises his hands and shakes his head. "Don't pants the guy, I believe you."

So Charcoal (the guy hasn't introduced himself so Charcoal he is) says Len saw him leave. He rubs an eye, letting out a tired groan.

"Lemme see if I've got this straight - you come as a dog and leave naked?"

"Wasn't about to." Mostly he's here in case Mick hesitates to much in showing the guy the door, but there's a reason he's just sitting on the ground with his legs crossed, looking up at them, mostly to gauge Mick's reactions. If Mick wants any more interference, he'd be happy to, but right now he's actually enjoying the show.

"Would you rather I have taken some of yours on my way out? Can't open doors and windows as a dog— Christ."

That's what he gets for being rude too much in a short span of time, a new lazy gush of blood falling down his face. His hand comes back up, fingers already stained, and this time Will says fuck it to the idea of prompting more violence by daring to step away. Maybe the man is quick, but if Will's obviously just moving to tend to his wounds, would that really prompt a new bout of physicality? Despite the initial greeting, he seems...chill. So after a moment spent watching the lines of his hands fill up like small rivers of red, he makes an obvious path to the kitchen so he can get a cloth, something cold. If he isn't stopped, that is.

He knows where the kitchen is, too. If there were any questions about the whole being a dog or the naked man, perhaps the fact that Will knew where he was and where things were within the kitchen would be enough.

"I don't know! At least then I wouldn't have people asking me about the naked guy climbing out my window."

And Charcoal just walks into the kitchen like he owns the place. Well, fine then. Mick follows, casting a "can you believe this guy" glance at Len.

Turning back to Will, and begrudgingly going to the refrigerator to get some frozen peas out (he's not going to apologize for Len, but the guy looked kind of pitiful covered in blood like that and Mick mostly doesn't think he's a pervert now.

"Whydja keep coming back then?"

Damp cloth gets shoved on his face, which effectively makes it really really difficult to talk. Good thing, though, because that helps prevent any snippy responses. So does the sudden lack of Len around them. Just Mick, Matches pulling up the rear. That's good. That's what he usually associates this place with...it's comforting.

At first, the answer comes through the wet rag, making it impossible to understand. And that's how Will wants to leave it. Pitiful is definitely a word that fits him now, because talking about feelings and empathy is always a struggle. But he realizes what the peas are for and that softens the bristly edges enough for him to try again, audible this time.

"Because you cared." Pitiful and deflating. "I knew...I knew if it was just a one time thing, you'd. Think about it, wonder what happened to that dog in the park. You named me when you saw me. I know how that is. Wasn't going to let you. Worry. That that dog'd been hurt. Didn't feel...right."

"Oh."

Mick wraps the peas in a cloth and offers it to him. It's a peace offering, of sorts. Even though Mick wasn't the one to punch him in the face. But he highly doubt that Len will offer up an olive branch anytime soon.

"That makes a weird sort of sense. Not gonna say it's the best decision you coulda made, but it ain't the worst. Dunno if I could say I'd do better in your shoes." He pauses a moment. "...Paws?"

Edited 2016-10-08 02:25 (UTC)

Will stares at the offering. He looks down. A slow, small smile finally breaks and he takes the homemade cold pack. If Mick reads into things, there is probably an alarming similarity to how Charcoal was slow and careful to take things offered him, especially if Matches seemed interested it. Human as he is, Charcoal lives on.

"'M not known for making good decisions," quiet, lightly said. This isn't a woeful confession or one seeking pity. Even as he tosses the bloodied cloth aside and stuffs a cold compress to his face. No need for pity here. More punching might be in order, however. "Incaseyoucouldn'ttell."

From the whole of everything that has happened in the past ten minutes.

"Well, you took being punched in the face pretty well." Kind of creepily well, to be honest. Mick eyes the discarded cloth. But that smile is infectious and he can't help but smile back a little.

"Pretty sure I've made worse."

But now that Mick is watching the man, he deftly does seem like the human version of Charcoal. Maybe you should ask what his name is? He's distracted by Matches bumping her head into Will's leg.

"Matches still likes you, looks like."

He's about to mention something similar, that he's also had worse. Nothing too telling. He figures having had worse than a punch in the face is a common theme among imPorts. Physically or emotionally, a lot of them share the fact they've Seen Some Shit on one level or another. If they hadn't, they likely would after they'd been around for a few months.

"Oh."

A quiet, happy gasp that may be muffled by the cloth is all that happens when Will first feels and spots Matches. If Mick is watching, he'll possibly see the huge, elated grin Will is desperately trying to hid behind peas and fabric as he gets to a squat, one arm moving out to run over her side, scratch about the ribs and belly, around the ears, everywhere a dog could want some petting. That arm will curl around her if she gets close enough and if Mick gets the impression Will would gladly pick her up and never let her go, well. He'd be right.

"Hey! Hey there. You're getting big, huh. Look a little smaller from up here, though." That reunion where a dog realizes her dog friend was a human all along; yeah, everyone's had one. "Is there anybody she doesn't like?"

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I broke a million hearts just for fun

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