pushtheboundaries | IC INBOX; MoM

[...]

I barely remember you
you don't know what we are
and you're telling me you're pregnant.

[just so he has this story straight]

we were friends and we hooked up a few times and then stopped talking a while and then you had a heart attack

facebook status its complicated

now will you PLEASE tell me where you are so we can talk about this face to face like grownups

[...................]

de chima.

[it's half a test; would she know about his 'safe' place here?]

fine

ill bring lunch

[if she can find him.

not that he's...hiding or anything. he's sitting at the table in his workshop, staring at the papers spread across it. he's already taken to wearing the bracers he found here, and a few more pieces that can be worn under his...'activewear'. dressed in black from neck to toe - his balaclava is set on the table, mask staring upwards at him in silent judgement - he wonders if this sense of impending doom is normal.

either way, it's setting him on edge. at least he's solved the mystery of the earpiece; it's attached to the sensors by the front door. when it opens, however silently, he should be aware.]

[ She shows up eventually, with takeout from the only noodle place in De Chima he'd deemed decent.

Her confident stride slows when she takes in the state of things. When did he start a goth phase? When did he get a mask? ]

Oh, what in the hell?

Edited 2016-03-28 15:47 (UTC)

[other than looking over his shoulder towards her, he doesn't do much - but there's a look in his eyes, a narrow intensity as he gauges her, paranoia whispering about the possibility of a threat, about getting others involved - but involved in what? this isn't San Fransokyo. from what he can tell, there isn't a San Fransokyo. no SFIT, just Xavier's...

he frowns, finally turning away. well, at least she seems to be realizing that things are different from...whatever they were before.]

[ She carefully clears enough space on the table to set up lunch for the both of them, and for her to perch on the edge of the table and swing her legs. ]

So you know the the good guys don't go for black, right?

[his eyes track her motions, ready to act if she disturbs anything - but the fact she's taking clear care does earn her a bit of credit. and while there's no verbal response, he gives her an arched brow that all but says, and?.

apparently, he doesn't seem to be bothered by the implication. he never said he was good.]

[ She presses the plastic takeout utensils into his hands. Eat your damn lunch, you big bad man. ]

What's the deal with the wardrobe change? Not that I'm complaining, exactly. You look hot.

[wow, no. he can take care of those himself...once he pulls off the gloves, that is. hard to eat with those on, but he'll reach for the food and start investigating]

...What was I like before?

[his voice is quiet, but...firm. there's the sense that he can trust her, at least, to some level...]

Khakis. Sweater vests. Crocodile pajama pants, on special occasions. Really into responsibility and second chances.

And technically I think we're talking after, since it seems like you slid backwards a little.

[that...gets him pausing with the food halfway to his mouth, looking up at her again, this time with something else to him. confusion, and...]

What do you know about it?

[that intensity is back, this time combined with a need-desperation. if he's so interested in second chances - does that mean he found a new life? but responsibility- hoe does that figure in? hell, he burned the expo hall down to rid himself of the sort that would hold him back...]

More than I'd care to, probably.

[ But other than that, she ignores the question. It seems that telling him is cheating somehow, when weirdo timey-wimey bullshit is afoot. She picks up his mask and turns it around for a thorough inspection. ]

You weren't kidding about being into Kabuki.

[ She stops suddenly as something occurs to her, and looks stricken. ]

Please don't tell me you're calling yourself Kabukiman and making, like, obscure theatre puns.

[his eyes narrow - and the mask abruptly pulls out of her grasp. the simple mechanics within it are enough for him to seize control, and for him to summon it to his suddenly upright hand.

he doesn't look amused.]

I didn't call myself anything. What do you know?

[firmer. just shy of angrier. don't change the subject.]

[ That takes her aback for a beat -- now there's something new!-- but then she breaks out into laughter instead of cowering before his awesome might. ]

Are you trying to intimidate me? That's adorable!

[oh, Harley. he doesn't really like being laughed at. and he doesn't care if you are pregnant, because you're clearly early enough not to show. which means there's barely even something in there, much less an innocent human being.

and even if there was, well - it's the responsibility of the mother to be smart, isn't it?

the various shelves of the room rattle softly, not unlike the hiss of a snake's tail - a warning. Callaghan lowers his hand - and the mask - to the table, setting down the one chopsticks as well as he just stares at Harley with a darkening expression.

he's not sure why he was building the things here, but he'll sure as hell use them if he feels the want.]

[ She observes the rattling with raised brows and a smirk around the noodles she stuffs in her mouth. Ooooh, so spoooooky. She gives him the time it takes her to chew and swallow to calm down, if he's at all inclined. ]

Since you don't remember, here's a little reminder. Whatever tricks you've got up those sleeves, whatever cruel little ideas are running through your brain, there's nothing you can do to me that I can't take. You're never gonna scare me off.

So think about how you want this to go, before you try to start a scene.

[he remembers not being able to scare someone else off. or, well- he tried. he did try, and nobody can say that he didn't. he remembers the kid coming back, and him having to take more...direct measures.

so he shrugs, expression relaxing as he reaches back for his food.

...right before what could be some sort of metal bolas fly at her, the launcher aimed right for her neck. if scaring won't work, then he'll just go to the next step.

it's not like she's convinced him he needs her.]

[ Maybe he'd hit if he'd thrown something shaped like a bat, but as it is she rolls to the side and pushes off her shoulder to leverage herself into a handspring. She takes an indirect route in case he tries something like that again, bouncing off walls and corners, before she sticks the landing behind him. She drapes herself casually across his shoulders and kisses his cheek. ]

But Robert, what about the baby!

[agile little thing.

he eats without seeming to care, either about the bolas' actual landing, or Harley's recovery. it's only when she leans across him does he pause, looking forwards

and then make a very deliberate decision to elbow her as hard as he can in the gut]

[ Oof. Apparently he doesn't care much for their little bundle of joy.

The air is forced out of her, but she still grips his arm with surprising strength, her other hand pushing down on his shoulder so she can launch into a handspring off him. A twist in the air and she comes down again on his lap, thighs clamped on either side of him and one hand gripping his hair. The other suddenly, inexplicable, holding a wooden hammer. ]

Now now, Puddin'! Just 'cuz I love you doesn't mean I won't bash your head in if you don't play nice!

[

#thatescalatedquickly

Robert hadn't taken her for anything more than an airhead, and now he's realizing how much of that was for show. his teeth bare in surprise as he reaches up to grab her wrist to stop the weapon, his other at her shoulder, the workshop practically alive as everything with moving parts seems to wake up and aim directly at his threat

and for a long few seconds he just stares at her.

then, finally, dubiously;]

'Puddin'?

[ She's tense and hard (hurrhurr) under his grip. She won't push the attack if he doesn't, but there's no way in hell she'll yield either. Her grin is like a butcher knife, sharp and gleaming and dangerous.]

Puddin. Pumpkin. Sweetcheeks.

Or are you more in the mood for "oooh, Professor, I'll do just anything for extra credit"?

[at the moment he's holding position, ready to defend against this sudden realization that she's not just a ditzy blonde he somehow befriended(?). but that expression of distaste breaks through his proverbial mask, and finally, he gives a little shove.]

Enough.

[get off him and he'll consider this a draw.]

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