[Comes into their shared room, arms filled with Apollo's dirty clothes.] Did you have a fight with your dresser this morning?!
[Is making his way over to the hamper. Seriously, Apollo, it would have expended less energy to put this sock in the hamper than hurl it halfway across the carrier.]
[Apollo glances up at Midnighter, setting down his paintbrush and frowning slightly.]
Excuse me for being in a hurry to stop being covered in blood and monster goo. I was going to pick that stuff up later. [Eventually. Shush, it isn't that important.]
Do you have any idea how much of a bitch it is to clean blood and monster goo once it dries? [And off he goes into their bathroom to try to rinse some of it off.]
Do you have any idea how hard it is to get it out of long hair once it dries? You're the one that doesn't like it when I get my hair cut. [Following him toward the bathroom to finish this conversation. Gosh, Midnighter. Washing his hair was clearly more important than using the hamper. Or something. Actually he just forgets to pick up after himself sometimes.]
They're my favorite fucking socks, okay? [Hands on the hips and looking exasperated now.] How is that any weirder than you having a favorite trench coat? You'd bitch if it got ruined.
[Hurls his wet socks at him. There's still some monster goo on them.] Socks cost what, 5 dollars? You can buy a whole factory of those fucking socks and it would cost you nothing. My jacket, on the other hand [Motions to said Jacket in a lump on the floor.] Has to be custom made in Italy because unlike some people, I need kevlar in my costume!
[Ew. So uncalled for. He's throwing those socks right back at you.] That pair is lucky, for the record. And I wouldn't have to bitch if you'd let me do the laundry once in a while! But apparently I don't do it right.
[Ducks. He didn't even need his psuedo-battle precognition for that! The socks hit (and stick to) the mirror behind him.] I never took you to be a superstitious old bag, Apollo. How can socks be lucky?!
And for the record, the reason I don't let you near the laundry is because the last time you tried to "help" you ruined every goddamn costume I owned. In what alternate universe do you put leather in a washing machine, nevermind the dryer?!
[So, so tempted to throw something else. He's going over zen exercises in his head to keep from just zapping the hamper.] We have a daughter who can zap the entire universe with a flick of her wrist, teammates who talk to the Earth, cities, and machines, and you think having lucky socks is weird?! [He's just gonna march right back there to remove his socks from the wall and start trying to scrub them down in the sink.]
So sue me! I didn't see your stuff mixed in with Jenny's jeans and my spandex! Why'd you even have that stuff in the hamper?
[Grunts as he reluctantly moves out of Apollo's way.] Because socks being lucky is so ridiculous I'm not even going to entertain the thought! [Do you feel deja vu? I feel deja vu. :P]
To keep it off the floor! It's called being neat, a concept I'm aware is beyond your comprehension.
[He might be having trouble getting the gunk out of them, so he tosses them wetly into the bath tub and starts spraying with the detachable shower head. Though when he says lucky socks are ridiculous, Apollo directs the shower-head at him and gives him a squirt.] How exactly is it ridiculous?!
[Huff.] I thought the entire point of a goddamn hamper is so you can just dump it in the damn washing machine and go! What point is there if you still have to sort the damn laundry before you wash it?
[Jumps back when the water comes at him.] Watch the leather! And it's ridiculous because an article of clothing--made in a sweatshop in Taiwan most likely--contains any sort of magical element to them at all!
You're the reason all your white shirts turned grey, Apollo.
[>:C Spritzing him again.] Oh go wipe it off with a paper towel. Are you gonna be a baby about it if we ever have to go fight in the rain, too? And shut up about my socks! I like them, that's all that matters!
This amazing little thing called 'bleach' helps with that! As long as it's the bleach that doesn't wash out colors too...
[Pulls the top of his costume off and tosses it into their room.] Just because you get yours made so cheaply I breathe on them and they fall off doesn't mean I can't have a decent costume! And for the record, we weren't arguing about whether or not you liked them--but the stupidity that they're lucky!
You don't know the first damn thing about laundry!
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[Is making his way over to the hamper. Seriously, Apollo, it would have expended less energy to put this sock in the hamper than hurl it halfway across the carrier.]
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Excuse me for being in a hurry to stop being covered in blood and monster goo. I was going to pick that stuff up later. [Eventually. Shush, it isn't that important.]
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And for the record, the reason I don't let you near the laundry is because the last time you tried to "help" you ruined every goddamn costume I owned. In what alternate universe do you put leather in a washing machine, nevermind the dryer?!
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So sue me! I didn't see your stuff mixed in with Jenny's jeans and my spandex! Why'd you even have that stuff in the hamper?
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To keep it off the floor! It's called being neat, a concept I'm aware is beyond your comprehension.
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[Huff.] I thought the entire point of a goddamn hamper is so you can just dump it in the damn washing machine and go! What point is there if you still have to sort the damn laundry before you wash it?
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You're the reason all your white shirts turned grey, Apollo.
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This amazing little thing called 'bleach' helps with that! As long as it's the bleach that doesn't wash out colors too...
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You don't know the first damn thing about laundry!
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