Gabriel Reyes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hellshot) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riverviewlogs2017-11-27 08:49 pm
hellshot) wrote in riverviewlogs2017-11-27 08:49 pm
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.
hellshot and Ichimatsu Matsuno ichimyatsuwhat: 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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He then shakes his head.]
Wouldn't call you fat.
Pudgy? Out of shape? Definitely. Nothing a little regiment can't fix.
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I will bitch every moment of your time away and you will give up on me.
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[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.]
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...no offense intended. [Why does he care so much about pissing this guy off.]
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[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.
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[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.]
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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.]
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[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.]
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[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.
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[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.]