playing with matches
Who: Tohru Adachi (justforthegun), Badou Nails (nicotine_patch)
What: HEY NAILS HEY NAILS I FIGURED IT OUT AM I RIGHT HEY NAILS
When: A while after SHIT HITS THE FAN
Where: YE OLDEN SPACE SMOKES SHOPPE
Warnings: Persona 4 spoilers and I don't know whatever
[Adachi watched the blood spread over the Network, over the ship, heard the panicked rush of the various testosterone-filled justice freaks on board pounding in the hallways all around him-
-and stayed glued to his chair in his room, refreshing the Network like mad, eyes darting over each bit of breaking news, the lips on his open mouth absent-mindedly curved ever so slightly up.
A trainwreck, a beautiful one, and finally, this one was absolutely not his fault. (Though if he had been at fault, it likely would've added to the bizarre rubbernecker's euphoria he was feeling at the moment, but Adachi didn't have much patience for the "what if" game.)
When the commotion began to die down and the broken record of why how could he we'll catch him started, the boredom ebbed back in and he knew he needed-
-more.
More, more, more, more anything, he couldn't just sit and wait for these idiots to bumble around the ship for the next few weeks (or eight months, god). They were all running around hoping they could beat the information out of "BN", as if Nails wasn't used to beatings; Adachi'd never even met the guy and he knew he didn't seem the type to squeal at the sight of a clenched fist, a hefty axe, a crying girl. No, tracking down and asking "BN" was pointless- unless you already knew.
So he does something he hasn't done in almost two years-
-he plays detective. It's just like academy, and he was the best of the best. (before the mistake, before the many mistakes-) He'd made hundreds of these criminal profiles, the same as he'd solved thousands of math problems before that: male, acquaintance of Badou Nails, recent arrival-
-it took all of an hour to find it, slamming through post after post in reverse chronological order, disregarding females, children, magic users, familiar faces- until he finds it, he finds it without getting out of his chair are you kidding me. A ridiculously long voice conversation Nails had with a crazy-ass newcomer (with the same raspy little cough-laugh he'd heard in Luke's death video are you kidding me was it really this easy) full of the exact same sort of cryptic bullshit that was in the message left in blood.
But now that he's figured out the little mystery, what could he do? Tell everyone and let the game end, less than a few days after it's started?
Adachi is out the door with his Guide tucked under his arm before he knows it. He slings the hood of his yellow rain jacket low over his head (a habit he had when he wanted to feel secret and dangerous) and walks (not runs) to the first place he'd look if he wanted to find Badou Nails.
Adachi walks into the friendly neighborhood space-tobacco store...and buys a pack. Classic cop move, buttering up the informant with a cig or two.
Now he just has to wait, put up with the heavy nose-crinkling smell and wait. He's sure of it. Call it detective's intuition.]
What: HEY NAILS HEY NAILS I FIGURED IT OUT AM I RIGHT HEY NAILS
When: A while after SHIT HITS THE FAN
Where: YE OLDEN SPACE SMOKES SHOPPE
Warnings: Persona 4 spoilers and I don't know whatever
[Adachi watched the blood spread over the Network, over the ship, heard the panicked rush of the various testosterone-filled justice freaks on board pounding in the hallways all around him-
-and stayed glued to his chair in his room, refreshing the Network like mad, eyes darting over each bit of breaking news, the lips on his open mouth absent-mindedly curved ever so slightly up.
A trainwreck, a beautiful one, and finally, this one was absolutely not his fault. (Though if he had been at fault, it likely would've added to the bizarre rubbernecker's euphoria he was feeling at the moment, but Adachi didn't have much patience for the "what if" game.)
When the commotion began to die down and the broken record of why how could he we'll catch him started, the boredom ebbed back in and he knew he needed-
-more.
More, more, more, more anything, he couldn't just sit and wait for these idiots to bumble around the ship for the next few weeks (or eight months, god). They were all running around hoping they could beat the information out of "BN", as if Nails wasn't used to beatings; Adachi'd never even met the guy and he knew he didn't seem the type to squeal at the sight of a clenched fist, a hefty axe, a crying girl. No, tracking down and asking "BN" was pointless- unless you already knew.
So he does something he hasn't done in almost two years-
-he plays detective. It's just like academy, and he was the best of the best. (before the mistake, before the many mistakes-) He'd made hundreds of these criminal profiles, the same as he'd solved thousands of math problems before that: male, acquaintance of Badou Nails, recent arrival-
-it took all of an hour to find it, slamming through post after post in reverse chronological order, disregarding females, children, magic users, familiar faces- until he finds it, he finds it without getting out of his chair are you kidding me. A ridiculously long voice conversation Nails had with a crazy-ass newcomer (with the same raspy little cough-laugh he'd heard in Luke's death video are you kidding me was it really this easy) full of the exact same sort of cryptic bullshit that was in the message left in blood.
But now that he's figured out the little mystery, what could he do? Tell everyone and let the game end, less than a few days after it's started?
Adachi is out the door with his Guide tucked under his arm before he knows it. He slings the hood of his yellow rain jacket low over his head (a habit he had when he wanted to feel secret and dangerous) and walks (not runs) to the first place he'd look if he wanted to find Badou Nails.
Adachi walks into the friendly neighborhood space-tobacco store...and buys a pack. Classic cop move, buttering up the informant with a cig or two.
Now he just has to wait, put up with the heavy nose-crinkling smell and wait. He's sure of it. Call it detective's intuition.]