[he stops by the shack first, but doesn't find him there, grafted to the couch or tending his babies like usual. it occurs to Badou that he could just text him, instead of trying to sniff him out (more like a bloodhound with a cold than anything else), but for some reason he doesn't want to]
[shifting Yoshimori's package under his arm, he makes his way to what they jokingly call The Office, but what's really just another festering hole in the slums, perfect for snakes and bugs of all kinds to slitherscuttle into]
[he's an often enough visitor that he doesn't get much more than some surly looks and pointed hisses from the aliens out front, leaning against the building like it's actually valuable territory to protect]
[for all his mangy fur, Badou's never understood that mentality of This Land is My Land, doesn't suppose he ever will
( ... )
[the smaller man stares at the hand for a moment, somewhat uncomprehending]
[he has to suppress a manic twitching in his mouth as he supposes that somehow, he doesn't think Genkaku is looking to slap some skin (no matter how much of a douchebag Envy is)]
[high five, nobody can stand you!]
[as usual, the bad humour of it is what makes him understand what isn't funny, what isn't said]
[it's unnatural for him, and the movements are awkward and unsure, but he twitches his hand up to Genkaku's, pressing that long scarred palm to the monk's square, calloused one]
[ with the tattered sleeves of his robe sliding down and exposing serrated scars, his arm stays extended to press and hold him there as he leans back, body loosening ]
[ he starves for this kind of thing, eyes evident in hunger and hurt, when he can't stand anyone else around but Badou -- when he doesn't believe anyone but Badou will stand around. he's come to rely on the man more than he thought he ever would, whether it's leaning on his business desk or sitting next to him on a couch or wanting him to lay under him in a bed ]
[ strangely, Genkaku is the one to break the hold first, pads of his fingers dragging across old splits in skin and then falling into his lap limply ]
[he tends passively to his fires as Genkaku releases him, feeling -- cleaner, more lucid, somehow; not crackling across radio waves, or a flickering, shitty picture on a low-fi TV]
[he quirks a crooked smile at the other, rimmed with ash and a goddamn sense of freedom]
Yah, let's blow, Bossman. Time ta punch you out.
[the cigarette is ground into the desk in a smudging X, a mimicry of the ones lining the inside of Genkaku's sleeves]
[shifting Yoshimori's package under his arm, he makes his way to what they jokingly call The Office, but what's really just another festering hole in the slums, perfect for snakes and bugs of all kinds to slitherscuttle into]
[he's an often enough visitor that he doesn't get much more than some surly looks and pointed hisses from the aliens out front, leaning against the building like it's actually valuable territory to protect]
[for all his mangy fur, Badou's never understood that mentality of This Land is My Land, doesn't suppose he ever will ( ... )
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[he has to suppress a manic twitching in his mouth as he supposes that somehow, he doesn't think Genkaku is looking to slap some skin (no matter how much of a douchebag Envy is)]
[high five, nobody can stand you!]
[as usual, the bad humour of it is what makes him understand what isn't funny, what isn't said]
[it's unnatural for him, and the movements are awkward and unsure, but he twitches his hand up to Genkaku's, pressing that long scarred palm to the monk's square, calloused one]
Reply
[ he starves for this kind of thing, eyes evident in hunger and hurt, when he can't stand anyone else around but Badou -- when he doesn't believe anyone but Badou will stand around. he's come to rely on the man more than he thought he ever would, whether it's leaning on his business desk or sitting next to him on a couch or wanting him to lay under him in a bed ]
[ strangely, Genkaku is the one to break the hold first, pads of his fingers dragging across old splits in skin and then falling into his lap limply ]
Wanna get outta here?
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[he quirks a crooked smile at the other, rimmed with ash and a goddamn sense of freedom]
Yah, let's blow, Bossman. Time ta punch you out.
[the cigarette is ground into the desk in a smudging X, a mimicry of the ones lining the inside of Genkaku's sleeves]
Reply
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