Cassel Sharpe. (
patheticvillain) wrote2015-06-26 09:09 pm
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fifty-five ➢ spam & voice
private } mickey
Hey. You busy?
private } beyond
Got something for you.
spam
[Recovering from being disemboweled physically took about forty-five seconds. Recovering psychologically is taking a little bit longer. Cassel takes comfort in simple tasks and routines in the meantime, trying not to think about what happened with Creed or what happened in the Enclosure or what's going to happen next. There's this feeling like the other shoe is going to drop - not uncommon on the Barge, but not something he wants to deal with, either.]
[During the day, when he's not in the gym, he spends time in his room or in the common rooms with yarn in his lap, curled up in an armchair, knitting and purling on autopilot. He has no idea what he's making, which is usually how he goes about things. Eventually he casts off and picks it up, examining it in the light. It appears to be a tiny sweater with at least three arms.]
[He never said he was good at this.]
[At night, a lithe black cat roams the halls. To Cassel's credit, this time he's wearing a little blue collar with a name tag. On the other hand, it took him this long to come up with that, so maybe he's not so smart after all. He curls up on the backs of couches, winds between people's legs, and wanders into cabins behind their occupants, purring loudly and very insistently.]
Hey. You busy?
private } beyond
Got something for you.
spam
[Recovering from being disemboweled physically took about forty-five seconds. Recovering psychologically is taking a little bit longer. Cassel takes comfort in simple tasks and routines in the meantime, trying not to think about what happened with Creed or what happened in the Enclosure or what's going to happen next. There's this feeling like the other shoe is going to drop - not uncommon on the Barge, but not something he wants to deal with, either.]
[During the day, when he's not in the gym, he spends time in his room or in the common rooms with yarn in his lap, curled up in an armchair, knitting and purling on autopilot. He has no idea what he's making, which is usually how he goes about things. Eventually he casts off and picks it up, examining it in the light. It appears to be a tiny sweater with at least three arms.]
[He never said he was good at this.]
[At night, a lithe black cat roams the halls. To Cassel's credit, this time he's wearing a little blue collar with a name tag. On the other hand, it took him this long to come up with that, so maybe he's not so smart after all. He curls up on the backs of couches, winds between people's legs, and wanders into cabins behind their occupants, purring loudly and very insistently.]
Spam
[The pillow goes wide, but Pietro grabs it anyway. And tosses it again. His aim is excellent.]
You little fucking snot. Guess dying didn't change anything, huh?
Spam
[The pillow hits him in the face. He splutters, picks it up again, crosses over to Pietro, and tries to just hit him with it.]
That's not actually all I can do. Just sometimes.
[A half-grin.] Why? Did you seriously think it would?
Spam
What the fuck do I know, man? I've never died. Why the hell are you wandering around as a fucking cat?
Spam
I mean, usually it at least puts a crimp in somebody's style. Not mine, though.
Because I want to. Because I can. Because it freaks people out. Because sometimes people say things to or around cats that they wouldn't say to my face.
[He cocks his head curiously.]
Like you. You were looking for me, weren't you.
Spam
Nah. I was just trying to get your stupid cat back before someone who's a bigger asshole than me fucked with it.
[Liar.]
Spam
[That's a patently obvious lie, but, well, if that's how it's gonna be. Cassel shoots him a positively dazzling smile.]
Thanks. I mean, for trying to help. It's really nice of you.
[Are you uncomfortable yet.]
Spam
[He looks away and huffs.]
I haven't caught you at the gym, lately.
Spam
[Still dazzling over here, even if you're looking away, the dazzle is palpable, Pietro. You cannot escape it.]
I missed a couple shifts. Coming back to life was - weirder, this time. I didn't death toll, but, I mean. Still. Super bizarre.
Spam
[What does it matter if he calls them he or she or it?]
So... coming back to life usually isn't weird, huh?
Spam
[Along with the stern look comes a shrug.]
It's usually weird, but it's usually more - I don't know. Natural-feeling? Like you'd think if you came back to life, you'd feel like shit. Usually we do, with the death toll. But this - I just felt clean. Organized. Like nothing had ever happened.
I know that's backwards, that I should feel better because of that, but I don't know. It was just off.
Spam
I dunno. Knew a guy who did something like that, once. Put dead people back together, I mean.
Seemed pretty un-fucking-natural then, too.
[Of course, Apocalypse had brought them back as puppets to his will... Pietro shudders at the memory.]
Spam
[Basically this place is just fucked up beyond all reason. But he's not gonna say that to Pietro of all people.]
Spam
[And then, as casually as he can manage, as if he's just making light conversation:]
He hasn't tried anything since, right?
Spam
He hasn't. He's been chill. As chill as he ever gets, anyway.
I went down to see him in Zero.
Spam
Why
Spam
[A small shrug.]
I don't think I got anywhere. He's a good liar.
Spam
[Of course, he's a good liar, too. An excellent one.]