Duplicity Contact Post

[notrosecolored]

Call, text, action all go here

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[notrosecolored]

"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.

[fightcoded]

"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."

[notrosecolored]

"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."

[fightcoded]

"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.

[notrosecolored]

"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.

[fightcoded]

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.

[notrosecolored]

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."

[fightcoded]

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."

[notrosecolored]

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

[fightcoded]

"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.

[notrosecolored]

"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."

[fightcoded]

"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.

[notrosecolored]

"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.

[fightcoded]

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

[notrosecolored]

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."

[fightcoded]

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?"

[notrosecolored]

"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.

[fightcoded]

"The jumpsuit's not something issued in Duplicity," Midnighter implies without looking at Scott. He keeps his eyes on the collar, but his attention is firmly placed on the other man. There's a story here that he is dying to know.

[notrosecolored]

"Neither's the shock collar, as far as I know." He's watching Midnighter, and believe it or not trying to tell at least some of that story. He just has no idea there's a question in there. Or if there's a question in there. Making him rather uncertain.

[fightcoded]

"So how'd you get ahold of it?" He came with the clothes on his back when he showed up here, so the logical conclusion Midnighter can make is that he, too, came in wearing the jumpsuit and maybe the collar. But he's trying hard not to put words in Scott's mouth.

[notrosecolored]

"I was in prison. Specifically a private prison." Technically he'd just broken out, but he hadn't left the facility just yet, just been on his way out of the door with some help from Magneto and Danger. "The collar was part of the 'strategy' for controlling the mutant."

HE goes from being very not forthcoming to filling in more blanks. "I was there for... murder and terrorism, mostly."

[fightcoded]

His eyebrows rise up his forehead, but likely not for reasons Scott is used to—Or maybe he is. Scott is friends with Logan. The man certainly isn't going to blush at a little mass murder and terrorism. Neither is Midnighter.

Instead, he is more... surprised. Not necessarily for the better, but he didn't think the guy had it in him. Useful information indeed for his neural-inductive combat simulator.

"Mostly." Adding that the end there makes him smirk. "Didn't realize you were so dark."

[notrosecolored]

Not mass. Terrorism and killing That One Guy.

...not that he hasn't killed other people before.

Scott opens his mouth to begin to explain, actually gives every indication he's about to launch into some long, complicated, story--

then closes his mouth and visibly deflates.

Too much work, and he does not even know where he would have to begin.

"It's been a long thirty years."

[fightcoded]

The collar is tossed back onto the bed, and Midnighter moves in front of him. His hands then settle on Scott's shoulders.

"Sounds like it," he tell him, letting his hands rub up and down once, twice. And then they squeeze Scott warmly. "Thanks for the present. I'm sure it'll be put to some obscene use."

[notrosecolored]

He's pretty tired overall and really appreciative he doesn't need to get into All That right now. He is also confused at being touched.

Not alarmed, just... confused.

Or maybe it's the kind of touch. It's nice. He physically relaxes at the pressure, but also... confused.

He stops and tilts his head a bit to the side, angled slightly up to be able to look at Midnighter. Scott's only a couple of inches shorter, but he's half sitting on the dresser, increasing that.

"I'm all right."