notrosecolored | Duplicity Contact Post

"It has something to do with the temperature at which they melt." Clamps seem pretty self-explanatory. "If you're into this, why didn't you know that?"

Midnighter snorts.

"I'm not into waxplay. Might as well be a tickle," he tells Scott. "Jamie was. He taught me which candles work best for his poor normal skin. I'd prefer using hot slag, but that wasn't his scene."

The last comment is a "joke." Sort of.

He stops walking and turns slowly back toward Midnighter and lifts his eyebrows a little bit above his glasses, considering. "What were you getting in return?"

"With him, keeping him alive. And great sex," he starts, but doesn't stop there. "He had a debilitating power, and it needed pain to cloud its effects. I helped with that. But he, ah, didn't like the harder stuff." He ends it with a shrug, as if it were no big deal. In truth, it was in no way an outlet for his violence, but he liked the guy. He liked him a lot, and that made it gratifying.

"Most people don't like my harder stuff!" He laughs at his own joke, He always laughs at his terrible jokes.

He's starting to catch a pattern in Midnighter's conversations - or speech. Real information and seriousness - to some degree - sandwiched between ... assorted kinds of 'humor', or smart-assery.

So, basically, he just sort of... discards the less than relevant parts.

"So, sadistic submission." Which is what this sounds like. He resumes walking the box into his bedroom (ruthlessly clear of anything). "Open the closet for me." There are clothes there, including the suit from the night he pole danced, and something in a suit bag in the back. Otherwise? Sweater,buttondowns. "What was the power?"

"Sure, if you need to label it," is his answer, not wanting Scott to think he's right. The man's far too sharp as it is. Can't just hand him more information than he needs.

But at Scott's rather odd and menial request, he pauses in his steps, then stalks past him to open the closet. And you better believe he snoops, takes in every detail of the very boring collection of clothing. He was really hoping for some skintight leather.

"Clairvoyance. Anyone he touched would trigger it, but it caused him brain damage. The pain helped distract his mind from going there..."

Doesn't want Scott to think he's right, confirms that Scott is right. Midnighter's great at this, isn't he?

He leans against his dresser, palms resting on either side of him to hold the edge loosely and considering all of this - without giving away much of what he's thinking.

Or feeling.

"How did you feel about doing it?"

"How did the psychopath engineered for doling out pain feel about it?" The patronizing smile he gives Scott is likely infuriating.

"Again, he was a special case. Jamie needed help and I was well-equipped to help. But most of the time I don't dish out pain to help. I dish it out to fracture bones, pull out spinal columns, calculate just how much pressure I need to apply to make a body literally pop. That's the fun part."

"That is the worst sell I have ever heard in my life, particularly given how evasive it was."

Look. He just-

He's just putting that out there.

"Evasive?" he laughs out loud, shocked and surprised by the accusation.

"I think most people consider me an open book." One they would like to shut tight most of the time. "If you ask the right questions. I have precognition, but it's for fighting."

Edited 2022-08-01 22:11 (UTC)

"Yeah. You realize you can use saying technically true things and being obnoxious as a defense, right?" His eyebrow - just one - shows up over the rim of his glasses. "I technically have something similar but it's not actually a precognitive ability; it's math."

"What do I have to be defensive about?" He knows, deep down, he shouldn't ask. But Midnighter was not built to retreat. So instead, he barrels on down the road littered with traps. He'll survive, though. He always does, even if he comes out the other end a little rougher for wear.

But, ike every fight, he doesn't want to give his next moves away. His focus ends up on the plastic container that he thoughtfully finds a spot for in the closet.

"I don't know, maybe about the fact that you don't like yourself very much and if you aggressively pretend to be nothing but the killing machine in your head no one will notice."

Well.

Midnighter asked.

Midnighter doesn't pause or blink. Doesn't give away any indignation about how he feels about this very rude attack on his person. He stands back up, nudging the storage bin into the far back of the closet, and then looks at Scott.

"Please, I love myself." Look at him: six-foot-five and handsome. What's there not to love? "Every day is a holiday when you're me, Scotty."

And it's true. He does love what—who he is. He's the boogeyman, and that thrills his black little heart when he goes out a'wassailing with a giant sickle and some bubblegum.

He looks Midnighter up and down, very pointedly and while he's tempted to outright say 'I don't believe you', he does not.

Instead he says, "Yeah. Halloween."

Midnighter snickers with genuine amusement.

"Hey, it's the best holiday." Then a light bulb flashes above his head. "You haven't seen me in my costume yet."

"No, just your dye-job." Or you know pubic hair. "How interesting is the costume?"

"The usual tight black leather trope. No cape, though. I'm not an idiot." He silently hopes that Scott has a uniform and that it has a cape.

"I like leather for the aesthetics, but it is almost as impractical as a cape. " He has a uniform - has always had them - not usually leather. "Less risk of being hung by tight leather than some kind of cape I guess."

"Parts are treated with flame retardants or carbon fiber. But I lose my pants more than I care to estimate," he tells Scott to make it sound a little less impractical. But, really, the whole thing is when you are the carbon fiber below your skin.

"Please tell me you have your uniform here." Immediately Midnighter starts pawing back through his closet for signs of evidence.

"It's something." Then he shakes his head, and starts to answer: "No, just the orange jumpsuit from prison-" But that reminds him and he breaks off. "I do have something else from prison you might appreciate more than anyone else I know." Hell, mid might get some use out of it.

"Prison?" Ohh, now Midnighter's interest is piqued. "I have so many questions, but let's start with the surprise present first!"

He doesn't want to talk about it. Not that he indicates that in any way, as opposed to just walking to the nighstand and pulling out... a really heavy, metal, collar and a remote. He tosses both onto the bed.

"Shock collar. Remote."

To be sure, Midnighter wasn't sure what Scott would pull out. A pair of strong cuffs, a cattle prod maybe. A shock collar, though...

"Interesting." He picks the collar up in his hands to judge the weight. It's not some cute little toy you would buy at a kinky store; it looks pretty nasty.

"This is a pretty kinky engagement ring, Scotty." It's twirled around his fingers like it weighs nothing. "How'd you get ahold of it?"

"It went with the orange jumpsuit and showed up here when I did. I should probably count myself lucky it showed up with the remote." It is nasty. It is seriously, seriously, nasty.

Who better to give it to.

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