[ Whether you're in the camp of it being grotesque or gorgeous, it's hard to deny the thing is eye-catching.
It's been nicknamed The Heart of Geb, probably due to it looking uncannily like a human heart blown from glass until the venae and arteries give way to a more crystalline formation, suggesting it was pulled right from the earth. The smoother sections of the ventricles are somewhat foggy, but what looks like a thin, glossy liquid can be seen stagnating inside, facets of light mysteriously catching from within to project what can only be described as rainbow constellations when plunged into complete darkness. It really is a sight to behold.
But most of the time it's not for anyone but its "owner" to see, locked away in a much less brilliant box for safekeeping. Once in a blue moon, and only then, does the "owner" feel a sliver of generosity in their own heart to allow the starved masses a few moments to glut themselves on its presence...for the appropriate fee, of course.
That's what has the museum in such a tizzy these recent nights. The exhibit isn't fully set up for the paying public just yet, but of course word's already gotten out that this precious thing is swapping its usual maximum security cage for a slightly less reliable one. Seeing Zwei agents on duty is enough to scare most two-bit punks with delusions of grandeur off, but that doesn't mean they get to just sit back and be intimidating their whole shift.
Another name has wormed its way into public consciousness in the past few months: Dodomeki. A demon with many eyes. That's what the fella calls himself after he swoops in unseen to snatch such oddities for himself--or is it all for himself? Rumors have gone this way and that about mysterious sums of money going to places like orphanages and hospitals, or to businesses with already shady reputations; it's difficult to tell what's an actual lead and what's just curious people extrapolating and spreading fantastical stories as a way to kill time.
On this night, in this corner of the property, his presence is still a looming threat. No one's seen hide nor hair of him, though, let alone any kind of ne'er-do-well, so maybe they really can relax for just a second. Just a sec. Lil breather, it'll be fine.
So long as they don't notice a vivid red eye blink into existence at the edge of a corridor wall, looking every which way as if to hastily find its bearings. ]
[Gregor figures it's just one of those pieces of art that you're not meant to get (despite evidence towards natural formation so on and so forth). He's not sure if it's pretty or not; it sure is impressive, but...
Eh. Beyond his ken to understand. He's not meant to, either; this isn't about appreciating the thing, just protecting it, ensuring order when people come in for viewings in short time, so on and so forth. And he intends on doing just that to the best of his ability. Zwei involvement usually keeps the majority of folks bar the most desperate or the cockiest away, which helps, but it also leads to the number one killer.
Complacency.
Whiiiiich he might be exhibiting when he stretches and yawns, of half a mind to find Heathcliff just around the corner and see if he can't bum a light off him, if not a smoke as well. He's already turning, actually, when something flickers in his peripheral vision. Something red, brightly so, without any alarm sounds to say that it's at least part of the building. That's all he needs to snap out of it, though; the benefit of Gregor is, underneath that lazy mien, how quickly he can snap to attention and get work done.
In this case, 'work' is just him sprinting towards that unassuming eye, zweihander curving through the air to make up for its wielder's lack of height. There's no delay; every second of vision stolen is a second of layout relayed back to the owner, assuming it's some sort of stealth monitor system.]
Ahaaaaa, achtung, baby! [let him have a cool one-liner, at least once. Just once.]
[ Luckily for Gregor he's quick enough to catch the eye before it catches him, the thing instantly squeezing shut upon contact with the zweihander as if that spot on the wall was made of flesh. Just as organic, it'll ooze muted red until the wall is once again smooth and unmarred, the droplets mysteriously fading with the it, though when Gregor pulls back his weapon what red's clung to the metal will stick around as a reminder that those moments did indeed happen.
It's quiet for a few beats, five, ten...
Until another eye, just like the other, pops up even further down the corridor in full view of where Gregor should be able to see it. It searches left, right, then stops dead on him once he's found.
What will he do? ]
michelin star-level rp for me.....u shouldn't have u////u
[The smart thing would, of course, be to yell out to Heathcliff or Faust, corner this thing and destroy it effortlessly. However, that's no fun for anyone involved, especially not the sort of guy who's keen to spice up his night. He figures that, if it gets too much, he'll get in the kids to help, but for now?
It's just him, and whoever's behind that eye. That reappearing eye, staring right at him, which he gladly allows considering he's already racing towards it yet again. (And really, if the other Zwei Fixers don't hear him laugh-panting by this stage, their collective failure is on them.) This time, however, there's no swing to his blade; the madman's attempting a stab, which is. It sure is something, considering his height and all.]
Hey hey hey, fella, where's your mouth? Let's have a little banter here, if you're gonna be this ballsy! It's no fun like this, yanno?
[ The eye doesn't seem to react to the attempt at banter, but it sure does react to the charge. It's at a height Gregor can reach for a good stabbing, but once the point's stuck in the wall there's no spurt of blood to let him know he got the damn thing. It sure looks like it's gone now, but--
Ope. The bottom of his zweihander's pommel is twitching, that same red eye blinking open onto it and searching for him.
No mouth, but it does crinkle as if pushed up by a smile once eye contact is made. ]
[For a second, Gregor's lost as he tries to find where the fucking thing's slipped off to. In the lapse between blows, as he dislodges the blade and looks around with too-keen eyes, his expression's stern and completely professional.]
[Annnndddd there goes the professionalism once that glaring red catches his attention once more. Without his sword, there sure isn't much he can do, is there
bar using his prosthetic arm, reinforced enough to handle a whole zweihander on its own with decent proficiency, to gouge at it. The finest force he could get, all coming to bear in the pad of his thumb as he moves to gleefully pop that smug fucking eye like a Tide pod.
Never mind that Faust's poking her head around the corner, finally moving to address Gregor's ecstatic wheezes; she sees the spatter on his blade, the hyper-focus on his face, and simply waits for him to acknowledge her.]
--Ah. Red eye, blinking on the walls, moves. Can manifest on our swords, so probably anything it can see? Tell the others.
[ Well it certainly reacts to that, lids frantically blinking on the intruding finger as if that'll actually stop it before POP! goes the eyeball. This time it bleeds again, a trail following it down as what space there had been on the pommel for it closes back up, only leaving that small spatter behind.
That's not the most interesting thing, though. That would be two noticeable noises, a heavy thud and a louder metallic crash both in opposite directions happening simultaneously with that gruesome gouging.
Perhaps whatever it had been attached to really, really didn't like that. ]
[The metallic crash is intriguing, certainly, but if Greg's hunch is right, then he figures the other Zwei kids have got that under hand. The heavy thud might be more humanoid, though, might be the real seed of discord, so that's the direction he's headed in.
Until that eye shows back up again, he's going to be practically sliding along the walls, one ear pressed to the white plaster as if that'll help him figure out exactly where the noise came from. And if he's wrong, well. Frau Faust's on the case, so what's the issue, right?]
C'mon, c'mon...Come out already...Papa needs a new lighter.
[ Following the source of the noise, Greg will be lead into a room with little space for any mysteriously appearing eyeballs, what with the walls being covered in paintings of all sizes as if the way they jigsawed together is all part of the presentation. For those paintings to be at the right temperature at all times to be kept nice and healthy for as long as possible there are a number of vents on the decently high ceiling, which all seem just wide enough for a grown man's shoulders to fit through, one of them missing its casing and wide open for the world to see.
Right under that one, wouldn't you know it, is what looks like a grown man all in black, practically swallowed by a hooded jacket as he seems to be having some difficulty getting himself upright off the floor despite the urgency his heavy breathing suggests.
At the slightest noise announcing Gregor's presence the man's head snaps up, revealing a mask covering the lower half of his face sporting large, protruding fangs both top and bottom. And, perhaps more notably, two wide red eyes with one looking like it's popped a vessel something nasty. ]
[There's a small voice in the back of his head telling him that he needs to be careful, to take this outside this particular room for now lest he still get his pay docked bigtime for any property damage.
The rest of the conscience voices decree that instead, he should simply drop the sword and use his arm. They win, and Gregor stalks closer once his zweihander clatters to the ground, stretching and grinning as he stares down this genius little intruder.]
Wonder what hurts more right now; that eye I damaged, or your pride? [The joints in his prosthetic hand click-clack softly as he wriggles them in anticipation, before balling them in a fist, ready to strike. Not yet. Can't move too fast, or he'll risk panicked lashing out. That's his cigarette budget we're talking, here.]
Neither are feeling too good right now, I'll be honest.
[ Somehow despite the strain, the voice that comes out is still smooth, confident. Even as he makes a cautious hop backwards on all fours instead of waiting to completely stand up. ]
You're awfully talkative for security, you know that?
I like talking. Finding things out about folks...Isn't that grand?
[Never mind that it's a distraction away from any actual skill, which seems to be somewhat of a multiversal constant. Step step step, closer and closer until he's within swinging range, but swing he does not.
Instead, he drops onto his haunches and grins wide, reaching out to grab a fistful of that jacket, something, anything to hang onto the intruder.]
So, what's some rich kid like you doing in a place like this, before the opening date? Backstreet punks don't have the dosh for a mask fancy like that, I know that much.
[ Gregor gets a fistful of the jacket and both of the intruder's hands at his wrist, a reflex more than an actual attempt at getting him off. Still, the guy's grip is tight, strong--maybe not Zwei strong, but fit enough to throw his own punches if and when it comes to that.
Just like the one on its own both his eyes crinkle, a pleased smile clear as day despite the mask. ]
Isn't it such a different experience, walking the halls at night like this? You can actually sit and consider what you're looking at without all the buzz of other people hanging around your senses.
Have you seen anything that's really gotten you thinking in here?
[Instant, nonchalant, even as his free hand's reaching down to grab one of the little thief's ankles; jackets can be slipped out of with ease, so two grips always helps.] See, I'm not really one'a them art types. Don't have the mind for interpreting or seeing meaning in a monochrome canvas.
But you? You. How'd you do the eye thing? You're not gonna get the thingermajigger now, that's for sure; my work buddies'll be in there packed tight as sardines in a can, and Frau Faust? She's brilliant beyond brilliant. She'd know how you did what you did soon as she saw it up close. Me?
I don't. I want to know, though; a neat trick like that, that gets me all fired up, buddy.
Edited (we are both fucking floundering here) 2024-06-01 11:05 (UTC)
[ That's. Not an answer he was expecting, judging from the quirk it gets in his brows. It gives him pause, a moment to study Gregor's features to try and find some kind of hint that his leg is being pulled more metaphorically, and despite searching he finds none.
Strange. Strange, but as Gregor had said, the thief can't help but let himself get fired up. ]
You know, I do respect curiosity like that. Out of all the things you could've done when cornering me you ask a question that ultimately doesn't matter just because you want to know? I like it.
[ Just a little, Gregor may feel a tickle at the back of his throat. ]
What's your name, Zwei?
[ And then might have some trouble answering. That tickle's worsening, expanding into what is clearly something, somethings growing inside his trachea, round and wet and gathering up against each other as closely as they can to take up as much possible space. ]
That's interesting. Real interesting. But they can't be abode, no sir; Gregor pitches forward to pin Akira's ankles down with his knees instead, prosthetic hand letting go of his jacket to
uh? instead start jamming down his throat, in an attempt to remove whatever the fuck's growing there. He makes eye contact the entire time, even as he gags and makes wet noises around his own metal fingers straining, extending, creaking and groaning in an attempt to find a grip point and tear the intruders free.]
Instead of using his now free hands to try something else cheeky to get away, they're left struggling for purchase on the nice, shiny museum floor, every now and then twitching towards one of his many pockets but not ever quite getting there.
And if there was any lingering doubt as to what exactly is bubbling up inside Gregor's throat, there shouldn't be when combined with that grasping and twitching of his hands the thief's entire everything is contorting in pain, eyes especially squeezing and blinking rapidly to fight back the defensive tears welling up.
The intruders shift and undulate with the thief's reactions, trying so very hard to stay an obstruction while avoiding those prosthetic fingers despite the mounds of eyes in there squishing and slicking at the slightest touch. ]
[Another gurgle, victorious when he's able to notice Akira's reactions through his own gasping and gagging, before Gregor's fingers extend even more, beyond the reach of flesh and bone. If he can't grab, then he'll gouge more, and poke, whatever it takes to dissuade those bulbous, tacky-wet eyes from blocking his airway.
..............god he hopes the others don't find them, because he's about to do a real gamer move. Deep breath, as deep as he can manage with all of this shit in his throat at least, before his meat hand grips his throat and squeezes hard. Gregor Samsa, choking himself out just to spite this absolute babe/shithead/tease.]
[ Well that sure does it, sending his head careening back as far as his spine will allow, letting out a strangled cry of pain only muffled by the mask. One by one those malignant globes seep back into the lining of Gregor's throat until it's smooth and free to breathe again, all the while accompanied by the thief fervently tapping his hand against the floor as if this is some childhood wrestling match and he's finally calling uncle. ]
[And lo, Greg frees his hands, wiping the prosthetic on his overcoat as it clicks back into place. A man who was just choking himself has no right to look so pleased, and yet, he does.]
Let's not do that again, alright? I'm trying to have a real upfront conversation with you, man to man, and you go pullin' dirty tricks...Really wounded me, fella. Pissed me off a bit, actually; got half a mind to just drag you outta here and throw you to the others.
[And yet he sits, panting, grinning, patting himself down for cigs already.]
[ Give him a second, he needs to breathe and let some of the pain thrumming at the back of his eyes subside a little before he can get back to bantering. ]
Wouldn't...wouldn't have lasted long doing this if I just...gave out my secrets to every handsome stranger putting his hands all over me...
[ Handsome, huh? Sure his face is flushed but that could be from all the exertion just now. Effectively getting your eyeballs squeezed, picked at, and pulled twenty or so times over is going to do an awful lot to you.
Eventually, though, he'll have enough of his breath back to tilt his head up to look at this crazy son of a bitch with much less ire or fear than Gregor might be expecting after a stunt like that. In fact, he seems much more intrigued than anything. ]
Fair play, fair play. You acting alone? I'm guessing you are, since you haven't tried to call out to anyone instead of pissing me off, but it never hurts to be sure.
[While he natters away, he flicks a cigarette out of the pack and offers it to Akira with a wink, though that might be hard to see behind his transition lenses.] You're not that punk who's been stealing from rich assholes to give to the deserving, huh? Maaaan, if it wouldn't risk a few sections' reps, I'd let you have that damn thinger. Dunno what it does, but I'm sure there's way better it could be used for than sitting here.
[A contented hum, as Gregor pulls a cigarette out for himself and sits it on his bottom lip, before fishing for a lighter. Swt swt swt-- there, there's just enough fluid for a few more lights. Not that he's going to waste it. He's just going to pocket the lighter again, waiting for Akira to take that mask off and get the cigarette in his mouth.
Yeah, this stupid motherfucker's going for a homoerotic tip-to-tip light to save on lighter fluid, and because he just got called handsome and he plans on capitalising on that, thanks.]
[ He wasn't, but the friend he brought along just in case is absolutely not the type to stick around if things got dicey, Akira be damned. The moment all the other Zweis started moving as if they knew something was up he would've turned literal tail and been long gone by now.
The offered cigarette gets another pause as he's finally fully back upright, eyes flicking from it, to Gregor, and to various spots in the large room. He lingers on one in particular for just a second longer than the others before taking that offer.
Carefully the mask is lowered, revealing a perfectly normal nose and mouth accented by a beauty mark and a smile. With the same hand he holds it up as if to protect the cigarette from some kind of nonexistent wind as he puts it in his mouth, pointedly blocking the view of the direction he'd lingered on. ]
You make it sound like I'm some kind of Robin Hood. [ The smile quirks with a laugh, light and good natured. ]
Far as my research has told me, all it really does is look pretty. The advertisements try to work the angle of it being some kind of mysterious natural growth, but I've looked pretty damn deep into the most reputable sources I could find and there aren't any science journals or whatever talking about it. So either the owner's held it so tight he won't even let the pros look at it, or he's got a fancy paperweight and a good sense of drama.
[He notices that look, but also like. He's getting complacent again, knows that he at least has an advantage here in proximity. Speaking of which: time to go in for that light at last, lips quirked lopsidedly.]
...Knowing rich folks, probably the latter. If it did anything, a Wing woulda long purloined it for use, but this just did the rounds as something neat and mysterious, far as I was told.
[puff puff, right in Akira's face. Sorry, bro.]
Still. What makes you think folks wouldn't eventually rat you out, if you passed it off for money's sake? Someone down that supply chain's gonna get weak in the face of a beating, and you're done for. Helluva risk you're running. [Running, not ran. Hm.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
@blattella
It's been nicknamed The Heart of Geb, probably due to it looking uncannily like a human heart blown from glass until the venae and arteries give way to a more crystalline formation, suggesting it was pulled right from the earth. The smoother sections of the ventricles are somewhat foggy, but what looks like a thin, glossy liquid can be seen stagnating inside, facets of light mysteriously catching from within to project what can only be described as rainbow constellations when plunged into complete darkness. It really is a sight to behold.
But most of the time it's not for anyone but its "owner" to see, locked away in a much less brilliant box for safekeeping. Once in a blue moon, and only then, does the "owner" feel a sliver of generosity in their own heart to allow the starved masses a few moments to glut themselves on its presence...for the appropriate fee, of course.
That's what has the museum in such a tizzy these recent nights. The exhibit isn't fully set up for the paying public just yet, but of course word's already gotten out that this precious thing is swapping its usual maximum security cage for a slightly less reliable one. Seeing Zwei agents on duty is enough to scare most two-bit punks with delusions of grandeur off, but that doesn't mean they get to just sit back and be intimidating their whole shift.
Another name has wormed its way into public consciousness in the past few months: Dodomeki. A demon with many eyes. That's what the fella calls himself after he swoops in unseen to snatch such oddities for himself--or is it all for himself? Rumors have gone this way and that about mysterious sums of money going to places like orphanages and hospitals, or to businesses with already shady reputations; it's difficult to tell what's an actual lead and what's just curious people extrapolating and spreading fantastical stories as a way to kill time.
On this night, in this corner of the property, his presence is still a looming threat. No one's seen hide nor hair of him, though, let alone any kind of ne'er-do-well, so maybe they really can relax for just a second. Just a sec. Lil breather, it'll be fine.
So long as they don't notice a vivid red eye blink into existence at the edge of a corridor wall, looking every which way as if to hastily find its bearings. ]
(β€Β΄θΈο½β€) love the meals u cook always
Eh. Beyond his ken to understand. He's not meant to, either; this isn't about appreciating the thing, just protecting it, ensuring order when people come in for viewings in short time, so on and so forth. And he intends on doing just that to the best of his ability. Zwei involvement usually keeps the majority of folks bar the most desperate or the cockiest away, which helps, but it also leads to the number one killer.
Complacency.
Whiiiiich he might be exhibiting when he stretches and yawns, of half a mind to find Heathcliff just around the corner and see if he can't bum a light off him, if not a smoke as well. He's already turning, actually, when something flickers in his peripheral vision. Something red, brightly so, without any alarm sounds to say that it's at least part of the building. That's all he needs to snap out of it, though; the benefit of Gregor is, underneath that lazy mien, how quickly he can snap to attention and get work done.
In this case, 'work' is just him sprinting towards that unassuming eye, zweihander curving through the air to make up for its wielder's lack of height. There's no delay; every second of vision stolen is a second of layout relayed back to the owner, assuming it's some sort of stealth monitor system.]
Ahaaaaa, achtung, baby! [let him have a cool one-liner, at least once. Just once.]
( Λ Β³Λ)β₯οΈ made with love for u, baby
It's quiet for a few beats, five, ten...
Until another eye, just like the other, pops up even further down the corridor in full view of where Gregor should be able to see it. It searches left, right, then stops dead on him once he's found.
What will he do? ]
michelin star-level rp for me.....u shouldn't have u////u
It's just him, and whoever's behind that eye. That reappearing eye, staring right at him, which he gladly allows considering he's already racing towards it yet again. (And really, if the other Zwei Fixers don't hear him laugh-panting by this stage, their collective failure is on them.) This time, however, there's no swing to his blade; the madman's attempting a stab, which is. It sure is something, considering his height and all.]
Hey hey hey, fella, where's your mouth? Let's have a little banter here, if you're gonna be this ballsy! It's no fun like this, yanno?
no subject
Ope. The bottom of his zweihander's pommel is twitching, that same red eye blinking open onto it and searching for him.
No mouth, but it does crinkle as if pushed up by a smile once eye contact is made. ]
1/2
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bar using his prosthetic arm, reinforced enough to handle a whole zweihander on its own with decent proficiency, to gouge at it. The finest force he could get, all coming to bear in the pad of his thumb as he moves to gleefully pop that smug fucking eye like a Tide pod.
Never mind that Faust's poking her head around the corner, finally moving to address Gregor's ecstatic wheezes; she sees the spatter on his blade, the hyper-focus on his face, and simply waits for him to acknowledge her.]
--Ah. Red eye, blinking on the walls, moves. Can manifest on our swords, so probably anything it can see? Tell the others.
[She nods right as he hooks his thumb in.]
no subject
That's not the most interesting thing, though. That would be two noticeable noises, a heavy thud and a louder metallic crash both in opposite directions happening simultaneously with that gruesome gouging.
Perhaps whatever it had been attached to really, really didn't like that. ]
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Until that eye shows back up again, he's going to be practically sliding along the walls, one ear pressed to the white plaster as if that'll help him figure out exactly where the noise came from. And if he's wrong, well. Frau Faust's on the case, so what's the issue, right?]
C'mon, c'mon...Come out already...Papa needs a new lighter.
no subject
Right under that one, wouldn't you know it, is what looks like a grown man all in black, practically swallowed by a hooded jacket as he seems to be having some difficulty getting himself upright off the floor despite the urgency his heavy breathing suggests.
At the slightest noise announcing Gregor's presence the man's head snaps up, revealing a mask covering the lower half of his face sporting large, protruding fangs both top and bottom. And, perhaps more notably, two wide red eyes with one looking like it's popped a vessel something nasty. ]
no subject
[There's a small voice in the back of his head telling him that he needs to be careful, to take this outside this particular room for now lest he still get his pay docked bigtime for any property damage.
The rest of the conscience voices decree that instead, he should simply drop the sword and use his arm. They win, and Gregor stalks closer once his zweihander clatters to the ground, stretching and grinning as he stares down this genius little intruder.]
Wonder what hurts more right now; that eye I damaged, or your pride? [The joints in his prosthetic hand click-clack softly as he wriggles them in anticipation, before balling them in a fist, ready to strike. Not yet. Can't move too fast, or he'll risk panicked lashing out. That's his cigarette budget we're talking, here.]
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[ Somehow despite the strain, the voice that comes out is still smooth, confident. Even as he makes a cautious hop backwards on all fours instead of waiting to completely stand up. ]
You're awfully talkative for security, you know that?
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[Never mind that it's a distraction away from any actual skill, which seems to be somewhat of a multiversal constant. Step step step, closer and closer until he's within swinging range, but swing he does not.
Instead, he drops onto his haunches and grins wide, reaching out to grab a fistful of that jacket, something, anything to hang onto the intruder.]
So, what's some rich kid like you doing in a place like this, before the opening date? Backstreet punks don't have the dosh for a mask fancy like that, I know that much.
no subject
Just like the one on its own both his eyes crinkle, a pleased smile clear as day despite the mask. ]
Isn't it such a different experience, walking the halls at night like this? You can actually sit and consider what you're looking at without all the buzz of other people hanging around your senses.
Have you seen anything that's really gotten you thinking in here?
no subject
[Instant, nonchalant, even as his free hand's reaching down to grab one of the little thief's ankles; jackets can be slipped out of with ease, so two grips always helps.] See, I'm not really one'a them art types. Don't have the mind for interpreting or seeing meaning in a monochrome canvas.
But you? You. How'd you do the eye thing? You're not gonna get the thingermajigger now, that's for sure; my work buddies'll be in there packed tight as sardines in a can, and Frau Faust? She's brilliant beyond brilliant. She'd know how you did what you did soon as she saw it up close. Me?
I don't. I want to know, though; a neat trick like that, that gets me all fired up, buddy.
no subject
Strange. Strange, but as Gregor had said, the thief can't help but let himself get fired up. ]
You know, I do respect curiosity like that. Out of all the things you could've done when cornering me you ask a question that ultimately doesn't matter just because you want to know? I like it.
[ Just a little, Gregor may feel a tickle at the back of his throat. ]
What's your name, Zwei?
[ And then might have some trouble answering. That tickle's worsening, expanding into what is clearly something, somethings growing inside his trachea, round and wet and gathering up against each other as closely as they can to take up as much possible space. ]
no subject
[Ah.
That's interesting. Real interesting. But they can't be abode, no sir; Gregor pitches forward to pin Akira's ankles down with his knees instead, prosthetic hand letting go of his jacket to
uh? instead start jamming down his throat, in an attempt to remove whatever the fuck's growing there. He makes eye contact the entire time, even as he gags and makes wet noises around his own metal fingers straining, extending, creaking and groaning in an attempt to find a grip point and tear the intruders free.]
no subject
Instead of using his now free hands to try something else cheeky to get away, they're left struggling for purchase on the nice, shiny museum floor, every now and then twitching towards one of his many pockets but not ever quite getting there.
And if there was any lingering doubt as to what exactly is bubbling up inside Gregor's throat, there shouldn't be when combined with that grasping and twitching of his hands the thief's entire everything is contorting in pain, eyes especially squeezing and blinking rapidly to fight back the defensive tears welling up.
The intruders shift and undulate with the thief's reactions, trying so very hard to stay an obstruction while avoiding those prosthetic fingers despite the mounds of eyes in there squishing and slicking at the slightest touch. ]
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..............god he hopes the others don't find them, because he's about to do a real gamer move. Deep breath, as deep as he can manage with all of this shit in his throat at least, before his meat hand grips his throat and squeezes hard. Gregor Samsa, choking himself out just to spite this absolute babe/shithead/tease.]
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Okay! Okay, stop, stopstopstop, red! Red!
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Let's not do that again, alright? I'm trying to have a real upfront conversation with you, man to man, and you go pullin' dirty tricks...Really wounded me, fella. Pissed me off a bit, actually; got half a mind to just drag you outta here and throw you to the others.
[And yet he sits, panting, grinning, patting himself down for cigs already.]
You smoke?
no subject
Wouldn't...wouldn't have lasted long doing this if I just...gave out my secrets to every handsome stranger putting his hands all over me...
[ Handsome, huh? Sure his face is flushed but that could be from all the exertion just now. Effectively getting your eyeballs squeezed, picked at, and pulled twenty or so times over is going to do an awful lot to you.
Eventually, though, he'll have enough of his breath back to tilt his head up to look at this crazy son of a bitch with much less ire or fear than Gregor might be expecting after a stunt like that. In fact, he seems much more intrigued than anything. ]
...Yeah. Yeah, I do.
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[While he natters away, he flicks a cigarette out of the pack and offers it to Akira with a wink, though that might be hard to see behind his transition lenses.] You're not that punk who's been stealing from rich assholes to give to the deserving, huh? Maaaan, if it wouldn't risk a few sections' reps, I'd let you have that damn thinger. Dunno what it does, but I'm sure there's way better it could be used for than sitting here.
[A contented hum, as Gregor pulls a cigarette out for himself and sits it on his bottom lip, before fishing for a lighter. Swt swt swt-- there, there's just enough fluid for a few more lights. Not that he's going to waste it. He's just going to pocket the lighter again, waiting for Akira to take that mask off and get the cigarette in his mouth.
Yeah, this stupid motherfucker's going for a homoerotic tip-to-tip light to save on lighter fluid, and because he just got called handsome and he plans on capitalising on that, thanks.]
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[ He wasn't, but the friend he brought along just in case is absolutely not the type to stick around if things got dicey, Akira be damned. The moment all the other Zweis started moving as if they knew something was up he would've turned literal tail and been long gone by now.
The offered cigarette gets another pause as he's finally fully back upright, eyes flicking from it, to Gregor, and to various spots in the large room. He lingers on one in particular for just a second longer than the others before taking that offer.
Carefully the mask is lowered, revealing a perfectly normal nose and mouth accented by a beauty mark and a smile. With the same hand he holds it up as if to protect the cigarette from some kind of nonexistent wind as he puts it in his mouth, pointedly blocking the view of the direction he'd lingered on. ]
You make it sound like I'm some kind of Robin Hood. [ The smile quirks with a laugh, light and good natured. ]
Far as my research has told me, all it really does is look pretty. The advertisements try to work the angle of it being some kind of mysterious natural growth, but I've looked pretty damn deep into the most reputable sources I could find and there aren't any science journals or whatever talking about it. So either the owner's held it so tight he won't even let the pros look at it, or he's got a fancy paperweight and a good sense of drama.
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[He notices that look, but also like. He's getting complacent again, knows that he at least has an advantage here in proximity. Speaking of which: time to go in for that light at last, lips quirked lopsidedly.]
...Knowing rich folks, probably the latter. If it did anything, a Wing woulda long purloined it for use, but this just did the rounds as something neat and mysterious, far as I was told.
[puff puff, right in Akira's face. Sorry, bro.]
Still. What makes you think folks wouldn't eventually rat you out, if you passed it off for money's sake? Someone down that supply chain's gonna get weak in the face of a beating, and you're done for. Helluva risk you're running. [Running, not ran. Hm.]
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