If nothing else, the stand-in barkeep is glad to be rid of them. He's not anticipating a tail, but he'd ducked his way out of the main promenade and toward the backstreets as a matter of habit. On the bright side, this means her chasing him out lends itself to a slightly (if only slightly) more private venue. He'd been perfectly ready to fuck off and leave it at that. But he's definitely not above pushing back when pushed. He spins on a heel to face her down when Hawkeye starts yelling.
Over the past year or so, Jason's gotten better at applying his anger, because he's had to. Heard it enough times, from enough sources. (You get angry too easily. Then you become an idiot.) He's more measured in application, now, but containing and weaponizing his anger is not the same as exorcising it. (In that, things have tipped the opposite way. Fostered in poisonous and low burning fires that may or may not be attributed to the acid stain of the Lazarus Pit.) The closer it hits to home, the harder he bites back. Since she's so interested—]
What? [It's mean in a deliberately vague way, like the answer ought to be self evident. (It isn't.) She can't know where the spite springs from, but it's not hard to hear.] You tell me. You're the one who's claiming to be contagious.
[You've already puked on his shoes, Hawkeye, is he supposed to hang around and catch the zombie flu? Maybe swap stories on resurrection hangovers, see who's had it worse? Or is this just pulling his chain after all? She never struck him as a joker. (Pun very much not intended.)]
Or is it like chicken pox? Sit through it once and you're good to go?
no subject
If nothing else, the stand-in barkeep is glad to be rid of them. He's not anticipating a tail, but he'd ducked his way out of the main promenade and toward the backstreets as a matter of habit. On the bright side, this means her chasing him out lends itself to a slightly (if only slightly) more private venue. He'd been perfectly ready to fuck off and leave it at that. But he's definitely not above pushing back when pushed. He spins on a heel to face her down when Hawkeye starts yelling.
Over the past year or so, Jason's gotten better at applying his anger, because he's had to. Heard it enough times, from enough sources. (You get angry too easily. Then you become an idiot.) He's more measured in application, now, but containing and weaponizing his anger is not the same as exorcising it. (In that, things have tipped the opposite way. Fostered in poisonous and low burning fires that may or may not be attributed to the acid stain of the Lazarus Pit.) The closer it hits to home, the harder he bites back. Since she's so interested—]
What? [It's mean in a deliberately vague way, like the answer ought to be self evident. (It isn't.) She can't know where the spite springs from, but it's not hard to hear.] You tell me. You're the one who's claiming to be contagious.
[You've already puked on his shoes, Hawkeye, is he supposed to hang around and catch the zombie flu? Maybe swap stories on resurrection hangovers, see who's had it worse? Or is this just pulling his chain after all? She never struck him as a joker. (Pun very much not intended.)]
Or is it like chicken pox? Sit through it once and you're good to go?