riverviewlogs | You can hear it right? I can see you nodding

You can hear it right? I can see you nodding

who: Reaper

hellshot and Ichimatsu Matsuno

ichimyatsu
what: Chillin and talking about Space
when: Beginning of December
where: The Matsuno abode
warnings: mentions of murder in space, reaper's face

[It's easier to settle in a place where only people he knows could come busting in at any time. It's certainly not noisy with Heroes like his own place is, and it's relaxing enough to be somewhere that Sombra isn't sitting on his bed, chattering away about all the friends she's making.

It's even moreso when you can feel at ease in the company of at least one person who doesn't drive you crazy in a city full of relatively normal people with relatively normal lifestyles. For Reaper, having lived part of his life in the military and even more recently as a mercenary-for-hire, it's a rare feeling.

One that doesn't come without its encroaching feelings and memories that niggle at you when tired eyes glance over at a calendar one of the Matsus have stuck on the wall.
December 1st.

It makes Reaper frown, and actually speak--as he's been sitting in silence with the frumpier of the three Matsus who have been stuck in this place alongside him nearly this entire time.]

Always hate this time of year back home. [Despite the silence, it's not at all difficult to slide into casual conversation with Ichimatsu at all.] Didn't think I'd have another reason to hate a date like this, but here we are.

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[They sort of vacillated with their living and sleeping arrangements-- Ichimatsu had gotten somewhat used to sleeping on his own, even if he still never slept quite well, but he figured until he was home and their huge futon he may never, again, so he took what he could get. So some nights he slept alone in Room 2, "his" designated space, and other nights he piled in with one of his brothers. He appreciated having his own space regardless, and times like this cemented that.]

[For years he'd scorned friendship, saying he didn't need it and didn't want it, until it came to light that he was just afraid of being hurt, and who even needed friendship when you had five brothers? But... between months in space and months in Quarantine, he'd somehow made a few friends anyway. Reaper, against all odds, had somehow warmed him to the idea, through approximately nothing at all-- and maybe that was the best part. Neither of them had any expectations of the other, and they most frequently would just sit in the same room in silence doing their own thing. Ichimatsu had never really found that with another person, and maybe that was why he'd never achieved anything like friendship.]

[He looks up, having nearly forgotten the wraith was even in the room (he was so quiet), and then follows his eyes to the calendar.]

..."another"? [There are plenty of reasons to dislike the season, but he wasn't sure of the reason for dislike of specific dates, especially this early in the month.]

[Yeah, another. He's not quite in the mood to bring up how Christmas used to be a grand tradition, both in the Overwatch base as well in his family life, what with how his Abuela would make sure every damn person in their family would be squat into a tiny little house, but...

He gestures, uselessly at the window. Pointedly, outside. He doesn't really care if the other doesn't realise he's gesturing at the sky, because his next words would be telling enough.]

In a month, I'll be able to mark an exact year that I've been out here in space.

[His head turns, tired, red eyes focusing on Ichimatsu.]

A year since I've been grabbed out into space. The Eluvio.

[It's all right, you're in good company. Christmas in the Matsuno household is... Well, it's lively in a way the holidays were never meant to be. The gesture catches his eye and he follows it, looking at the window, frowning before turning back to Reaper about the same time he focuses on him, and he pales when the real reason is placed on the table.]

[...Ah. He can't keep the eye contact for long, averting his gaze and drawing his knees up closer to himself.]

...you were there before Karamatsu and I were, weren't you. [He does not want to have this conversation, actually, at all.]

[His fingers pull back when the other mentions that he was there before, and he can only nod his head. letting his fingers settle over his lips as he quietly exhales, a cloud of fog escaping him.

he doesn't necessarily WANT this conversation either, but. Some things can't--shouldn't be--avoided.]

Old habit from when I was in the military. You don't lose track of days. Time, how long you've been on a mission.

January 5th.

That's when I first arrived on the Eluvio.

[He doesn't look up, but flinches subtly as Reaper brings his hands to his face and exhales in a puff of smoke. His mouth pulls crooked to one side, like it so often does, and he squirms in place. He realized, very suddenly then, that he would never feel adequate around Reaper. He enjoyed his presence, he valued the silence they could share, he probably always would, but... Who was he to consider this mammoth of a man, who had seen war and bloodshed and everything Ichimatsu had never been subjected to, a friend?]

...'s a long time. It was February when I got there, but I don't remember the day.

[He feels selfish, for taking up his time, like he's constantly asking to be babysat. He curls further in on himself, trying, maybe, to disappear.]

[He'll hit you if you dare bring that kind of shit up again, brat. He doesn't reach out easily, or at all really, but if there's something he can appreciate, it's someone who isn't always on his ass for information or asking him to do things for them.

That aside, he seems to settle just a bit when the other admits he doesn't remember the day. He wants to laugh--because of course Ichimatsu doesn't remember. People don't obsess over time like he does, counting every day as if it could be your last.]

I was barely settled when I ran into you and your brother. So it was somewhere in February.

[His eyes open and he stares at the other, how he's shrinking against the couch, like he's trying to make himself look small.]

...Dates aren't important for everyone. Don't beat yourself up about it.

Time hardly stands up to experience, a lot of the time.

[AKA for a normal goddamn person, you've seen some shit.]

[He's already small, and more or less in a constant state of trying to look smaller, because he doesn't especially want anyone looking at him. Possibly less so, still, with Reaper, because of his aggressive inferiority complex that chooses the absolute most inopportune of times to rear its ugly fucking head. He ducks his head into his knees, hugging them closer still and shrugging. His voice is muffled further by speaking into them, on top of his existing mumbling.]

And lacking experience means I don't pay attention to time.

[Stop being so negative, you actual clump of cat litter.]

It's a little easier to ignore the pass of time when you're far from home, isn't it.

[He can't say he feels like this himself, but. Remembering how Eichi used to say he would 'lose count of the days', he can only figure it was the same for normal people who aren't like him. Unsure if the nanites buzzing around your body will stop working one day, and you'll finallly be allowed to die.]

Starting to feel like this place is going to become the place where we stop.

Better here than that damned fleet out in space. Whatever happened to that place...

....Hah. I hope it blew up. [It's okay, we can be negative together.]

[Stop heading him off at his negative pass, he doesn't know what to do with this. He frowns a little at the second statement, picking his head up to ask what he means by "the place where we stop", only to snort at the last bit, closing his eyes almost entirely and shrugging.]

With how everything was going up there, honestly... it probably did.

['How everything was going up there'...

Yeah, that's one way to put it. Reaper doesn't make much of an expression, but the hand over his mouth is enough of a tell that he's at least trying to hide an expression of some sort.]

You and your brother saw a whole lot more than people like you ever should.

Can't say I was too bothered by much. Even killed one of those alien things. [Something he's never told anyone.] But there were a whole lot of fucking civvies up in that fleet that didn't deserve to see a tap of what they did.

[He looks the slightest bit nauseous, himself, because God he doesn't want to talk about this-- it doesn't really help that he got drunk and told Osomatsu and then was horribly ill because he can't hold his liquor. A shrug of his shoulders, and he hugs his knees closer still, somehow. He must be collapsible.]

Probably deserved it for being a fuckoff most of my life, or something. Glad you got one of them, I'll go ahead and wishfully believe it was the one that desecrated that girl we found. [Now he definitely looks nauseous.]

[Ichimatsu looks so small that he might as well be a throw pillow at this point. With a roll of his eyes, Reaper's entire form shifts. A cloud of shapeless black smoke swirls where the mercenary once sat, and in a moment, he's instead sitting next to the curled up ball of anxiety instead.]

Don't go using bad life experiences as some sort of Karma for the shit you go through. Life doesn't work like that.

[He's going to prod a finger into the others' side, as if to try to get him to loosen from his metroid-like ball.]

Secondly, maybe it was one of the ones that were murdering people on the ship. Makes me wonder if I shouldn't have shot more of them.

[In comparison to Reaper, he pretty much is a fucking throw pillow. He catches the way he disperses into smoke out of the corner of his eyes and starts to turn, only to have Reaper very suddenly right next to him, and the poke gets its desired effect and thensome. He sucks in a sharp breath and puffs outward, making a funny wheezing sound a moment later.]

You're a fucking apparition, holy shit.

[He can't help but to scoff out a laugh at that reaction, of all things.]

What's the matter? It looks like you just saw a ghost.

[Yeah, he can't fucking help himself. A crooked grin moving up his corpselike face.]

Thought you knew all about my tricks.

You-- that is not funny. I know you do the weird wispy shit but I wasn't expecting you to wisp your way right the fuck up on me!

[Gee, he sounds a lot more like Osomatsu and Karamatsu when he speaks up and isn't mumbling.]

[No, it's funny. It's really funny--and he even barks out a laugh as he sits up straighter against the couch, letting one of his arms rest over the back of it as he crosses a leg at the knee. His head leaned back as his teeth click together unevenly with the rasping, barking sound.]

Didn't realise you were so easily spooked. Looks like I've found something new to have fun with.

You're even more like a cat than I gave you credit for in the first place, brat.

[He would hiss at you if it wouldn't just make this worse for him. Instead he just rolls with it, grumbling and oozing over against Reaper's hip on the couch, leaning with the hugest full-body sulk of a tiny Asian man you have ever seen ~~or not, depending on the Asians in your life~~.]

What, are you suggesting it's not smart to be spooked by a giant wall of smoky wispy nonsense with military experience? And don't test me, I'll spitefully shit on your things like a cat, too.

[The only Asians in his life are the Shimada brothers and Hana Song. None of which actively participate in things such as full-body sulking or threatening to shit on his things.
Probably a good thing, that.

Either way, when the other moves enough to almost puddle up against him, his first reaction is to almost freeze, and consider pushing him off.
But today, he decides he'll allow it--even going so far as to reach down to pinch toe others' ear between a thumb and forefinger.

Without his gloves on, Ichimatsu avoids getting a good new hole for a snazzy piercing, but being pinched with two corpse-cold fingers is likely startling.]

Shouldn't be spooked by someone who wouldn't cause you harm. You shitcat.

Defecate on my things and I'll shave your head.

[He feels him shift but has no idea to expect his ear to get pinched, nor his fingers to be that cold-- it makes sense, but it still makes him jump. He bristles and puffs outward again, but doesn't shirk the contact, and leans back into his hip a moment later, rolling his eyes.]

That's sweet, but you're still as tall as three of me and it's ingrained in us small things to fear larger predatory-looking creatures.

[He leans back along his side, dropping his head somewhere about Reaper's second-to-last rib and squinting.]

You say this like it's a threat to the guy who rarely uses a hairbrush.

[He takes a moment to look at him, tipping his head back to take in his image.

Yeah... Yeah, you're a pretty small guy, Ichimatsu. And you don't look like you even know the meaning of the word 'work out'.]

Going to have to fix that. You're only a young guy once. If you fuck it up now, you'll regret it later.

Should start you out on a workout regime.

[As he reaches down to pinch just behind one of his arms.]

[He squirms under the scrutiny, folding in on himself to appear smaller still, and puffs his cheeks out, looking at him upside-down. He inhales to argue the point of a workout regime for a NEET, only to squawk a startled sound at the pinch and roll his way directly into Reaper's lap, away from his hand. He settles there, folded awkwardly on his knees, and glares even if his ears are bright red.]

Fuck off, I don't care if I'm fat. [He's not, he's just soft from laziness.]

[Oh my god Ichimatsu. He grins down at the other, resting his knuckles against his cheek as the angry cat settles in his lap, telling him to fuck off.]

Wouldn't call you fat. Just out of shape.

A good jog every morning before 5am would sort that right out in a few months.

[The color drains from his face and you can physically see him envisioning "a good jog every morning before 5am".]

5am is not a time that exists to me, consciously.

You don't look built for waking up at that hour.

[To be honest.]

But every good man can make sacrifices for the greater good.

[EVIL GRIN.]

[He shrinks away from that grin.]

You are an evil, unkind man, Gabriel Reyes.

[...there he goes again, calling him by name.]

[It's time for a long, edgy, and way too echoing laugh as his hands come up, accentuating the whole ordeal. He makes a show of it.]

You're forgetting, you're in the company of The Reaper.

Evil only comes naturally.

[Stop this. Also calling him by his name--it's weirdly comfortable.]

[He rolls his eyes approximately immediately, grinning crookedly.]

Yeah, uh-huh. And yet here you are, The Reaper, adopting a fat Japanese guy into the realm of physical therapy. I'm absolutely terrified.

[He's gonna look down at Ichimatsu, thinking about it for a long moment.

He then shakes his head.]

Wouldn't call you fat.

Pudgy? Out of shape? Definitely. Nothing a little regiment can't fix.

[He squirms under that gaze, worming away from it and directly off the couch, so he's seated somewhere near Reaper's knee, leering up at him from the floor like the affronted cat he is.]

I will bitch every moment of your time away and you will give up on me.

Don't try to write a cheque your ass can't cash. Saying I'd give up so easily is an insult to who I am, brat.

[A hand reaching out, fingers tugging a bit roughly through messy strands of hair, letting his head lean back against the back of the couch.]

[He flinches at the hand at first, but in the end doesn't mind the tugging, even rough. His mouth quirks crooked and he sulks, hunching up against the couch.]

...no offense intended. [Why does he care so much about pissing this guy off.]

...

[Yeah, why do you care. He raises an eyebrow at the other, fixing those glowing, pitted things you might call 'eyes' on the other. A low snort, a small puff of black smoke escapes his mouth.]

If I weren't crazy, I'd almost assume you were trying to say 'sorry', there.

Too bad you're crazy, then.

[This is... What, the third time he's been scolded for being a self-deprecating shit at the cost of other people's pride? He's not used to it, but he doesn't like it, and he's going to tell himself it's because he's not scared of Reaper but has a healthy respect for how easily the man could kill him if he felt like it for as long as he can, because any possible alternatives relating to a little vial of poison that made him hurt for twenty-four hours are clearly the farthest thing from remotely possible.]

Right. Of course.

So it's just a figment of my imagination, isn't it.

[Because he just imagined that you're capable of apologising, right? That's totally logical in a situation like this.]

100%. Probably more than 100%. I don't apologize for shit, because I am shit, and who has time to apologize for their entire selves constantly? Not me.

[Excuse him, he's going to ooze lazily forward, simultaneously neatly and haphazardly across one of Reaper's hips again, arms and legs hanging loosely off of him. He... looks like a cat. When does he not.]

Not you.

[He'll affirm that for you, look how graceful he is with letting you stay deep-seated in your denial.

He watches the other quietly as he oozes to the side. If a man could look like a stray cat in any moment, this was it, he figured.

He reaches down to tug at the others' hair with two fingers again.]

Swear you're some sort of non-Newtonian fluid.

I think I'd have to know what the fuck Newtonian fluid was in the first place to affirm or deny that,

[But if you're saying he's made of liquid, then yes, probably. He can and will fit into most things, he doesn't have his own true shape, he conforms to others.]

[Also, he likes when you play with his hair.]

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You can hear it right? I can see you nodding

is reaper's face not murder in space,

fuck you got me ur right

sparkles

eats your sparkles

now your shit will sparkle too

sounds like a medical disaster

or a medical SPLENDOR,

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