driftfleet | first one to make that doctor who joke loses

[Davesprite shrugs. He can't make a face back because that's easier said than done when almost all of it is covered by sunglasses or a mask.]

Did I ask about ears. I don't know, man, maybe you were trying to hide it. My kidbro tried to hide his when he got cattified and chased me up a tree.

[He makes a vague gesture with his hands, backing into someone behind him.] Sorry.

[ Isaac at least has his eyes and eyebrow to help him make a face. What can he say, he's expressive ]

Yeah, no, not trying to hide anything. You've seen me wolf out. I watched a werewolf movie with you while looking like that, okay. No ears. No tail. [ A beat, then: ] Your bother was cattified?

[ Where are all of these people coming from? Even Isaac is starting to feel a little cramped, brushing shoulders here and there as he walks. ]

[He refuses to drop Isaac's weird wolf condition just yet. Maybe they'll discuss Dirk's freaky feline incident after that.]

You definitely had shit going on with your ears, bro. It was some twisted elf fuckery; kind of gross, actually, these like. Nasty, naked bat ears.

Better to hear you with. Or something.

[ he's not really sure why they have to look the way they do when they transform, but nothing is normal in Beacon Hills. ] Like your wings aren't gross? I think there are feathers everywhere.

[There is no way Davesprite didn't roll his eyes from the way his head moves.]

I'd say nice try, but that burn was so weak it doesn't even deserve to be called a burn. More like you splashed me with some lukewarm water? Not even that.

How have you not been punched before? Seriously you say things sometimes -- you really should have been punched by now.

[ He only halfway means it, but for real, for the verbal barbs they throw, it's amazing they haven't been in more fights. ]

I'll spare you this time, I guess. Pretty embarrassing, getting punched by a werewolf. You'd never survive.

Right. I'm terrified. Shaking on the spot, in case that wasn't obvious.

[It is not obvious. In fact, it's safe to assume he's being sarcastic.

He'd give Isaac a shove, but this moon has been all kinds of weird already. The last thing he needs is for someone to think he needs a few rounds of remedial chess.]

I'm quivering like a sludge bubble in a polluted puddle. Look, there's one right now. [He points.]

Probably shouldn't point. I think it's the sign of a challenge here or something.

[ He's making it up, but there are enough people crammed in around them now that one is bound to take offense and make an ass out of themselves. ]

Especially since you're calling people sludge bubbles. Gross. [ He gives a one shouldered shrug. ] I always knew you were a polluted sludge bubble anyway. Go be with your people. Davesprite.

I'll point wherever I goddamn want.

[Don't dad him, Isaac. But at least it isn't as bad as Pokémon...stepping in front of someone is the worst battle prompt ever. Even if it looks like someone is considering it, just outside Davesprite's peripheral vision.]

Anyway, normally that would mean I need to introduce you face-first to a sludge puddle [big difference between it and a bubble!!!], but that might end up counting as accidental manslaughter. Or something.

[Davesprite isn't sure what kind toxin levels they're looking at here. It's also just kind of gross.]

[ Isaac wouldn't know how to actively dad anyone. It's not like he had a model dad to learn from. ;o; ]

Is it accidental if you meant to shove me face first into a toxic puddle? I think that counts as pre-meditated murder, actually.

[ Isaac is idly aware of the people around them, but definitely not of the dude that practically steps out in front of them, unawares that they were in the walking space before. Damn those Jr. Trainers! Isaac practically falls sideways trying to avoid him. ]

How many people live on this moon? Jeez.

Pre-meditated murder means you need to actually intend to kill someone before you do it.

[He rolls his eyes again and only narrowly manages to dodge the opposite direction, taking his cue as soon as he sees Isaac move. But he still bumps into someone else for his trouble; an alien perusing a stall, specifically, who Davesprite has only half-faced when something—not a hand, that is definitely not a hand—grabs him by the shoulder and forcibly turns him around.]

Uh—

[The alien says something—several somethings—that Davesprite doesn't understand. In fact, there's a second or two where he just stares blankly at the guy (girl???), until he realizes what's about to happen. Not quickly enough to dislodge the weird claw on his shoulder and duck, but enough to angle his head so his shades don't take the hit when the alien sucker punches him right in the fucking face.]

[ Isaac has an apology half out of is mouth when he sees the alien's hand swing. He watches it in slow motion, in a way, unsure of how they went from walking down the street to Davesprite being punched in the face. A strange sort of anger rises up from his belly where it's been waiting, into his chest, filling it with pressure.

He goes from looking like a normal boy to werewolf very quickly, and wastes no time in reaching out to grip the alien's arm, his own claws extended, his fangs bared. The sound that comes out of him isn't human, either. It's feral and raw. ]

I don't think that's a good idea. [ He removes the alien's hand from his friend's shoulder and shoves the large creature backward, enough to make it look like the Alien simply lost his balance. But the energy coming off of Isaac isn't just protective and offended, no. But the look on his face borders on murderous. He squares his shoulders, leaving a healthy distance between him and the fallen alien, almost like a challenge, a taunt. ]

Are you okay? [ It's quiet, almost inaudible. He's trying to focus on his breathing before he does lose control completely, before he blinks and he's killed half the people here. ]

What the fuck.

[Davesprite clutches his face more out of astonishment than real, actual damage. All those rungs he climbed up his echeladder, hours wasted grinding for grist and exp, turned out to be worth something after all.

It's still pretty disorienting, though, to get fucking struck in the face and not be able to cushion the blow by moving with it. He staggers a couple steps when the alien lets him go, not quite comprehending what Isaac is doing, and his head snaps around warily at their sudden gaggle of spectators.

"Challenge wasn't for you!" someone calls to Isaac, but no one seems eager to intervene. Instead, they look more ready to set up a few bets. Fuckin' christ.]

Yeah, dude, I'm fine. [Davesprite gingerly probes at his cheek, even as he semi-anxiously hovers behind Isaac.] It's cool, no big deal.

Edited (fuckin english not distinguishing between multiple pronouns of the same gender in the same sentence) 2016-04-24 07:04 (UTC)

[ While the words make sense, he can't quite put them to action yet. Isaac focuses on his breathing, on his anchor, trying to remember every lesson he's learned about being a werewolf. What a shitty way to put it all to the test. He can smell the excitement on the crowd, the anxiety in some, the greed in others. He stands his ground, though. Challenged or not, Isaac isn't about to let this guy take another swing.

The alien gets back to its feet, and acts like he might parry forward, but Isaac takes a step forward as well and snarls again. It's comical, in a way, this scrawny, wolf-faced kid against a plump and fiery alien. The creature backs off finally, turning his nose (is that his nose?) up and dismissing the displeased crowd. ]

We should go. [ He sounds pissed, all gritted teeth and clenched fists, but slowly, very slowly, his ears round, his teeth square up, his hair withers back. his claws recede. His hands are trembling slightly, however, in a way the transformation usually doesn't cause. ] Before someone else gets a bright idea. [ He gestures forward and starts walking. ]

Edited (i fail at html life) 2016-04-24 07:44 (UTC)

[Davesprite's own anxiety ratchets up when Isaac steps forward, because oh shit???] Isaac—

[He reaches for the werewolf's shoulder, though he keeps his eyes on the alien that punched him in the first place. A part of him is fucking boggled this is even happening; there's an element of something surreal to the whole situation. Like sure, Sburb was pretty fucking weird, but did he really just get punched on the street by a complete fucking stranger? Who he wasn't even (intentionally) provoking? Why the hell did Isaac step in? Should Davesprite stop him?

Isaac, at least, provides the answer to that last one all on his own when the alien backs off and he starts dewolfing.]

...Yeah. Sounds good. [Davesprite can't help a couple glances over his shoulder, even as he fixes his mask. He guesses he should count himself lucky that the asshole didn't manage to punch that off him.] You ok, man? You didn't have to do that; it would've been fine. Probably.

[ The hand on his shoulder is another anchor of sorts, brings him back down to reality. He adjusts his own mask, that's dropped under his chin after the change in his face, and it's then he realizes he probably shouldn't have been breathing this air in. Oh well, too late now. Isaac shakes his head, trying to clear the rush of adrenaline, of anger. ]

Yeah, I'm okay. I did have to do that. Dude, he punched you. You're my friend, I'm not just gonna stand there.

[ If Davesprite thought Isaac was just gonna stand there while some alien tried to hit him again, he has another thing coming. He's well aware his friend can take care of himself, that much is obvious, but Isaac's instincts took preference over logic for a few moments. He rolls his head and shoulders. ]

Needed to let off some steam anyway. Are you okay? How are your shades? [ Important questions, okay. Isaac is gonna ignore that he almost went murderous wolf for now. ]

[The rest of his face might be more or less hidden, but Davesprite's eyebrows knit together in bafflement.]

Um, fine.

[He ends up rubbing at his cheek again, almost self-conscious, before he drops his hand. A part of him is struck by the absurdity of Isaac asking about his sunglasses.]

You sure you're ok? I dunno how werewolves handle an environment literally made of pollution. I mean, actual wolves don't dig it, right.

Yeah, dude, I'm fine. You're the one that got punched.

[ There's a tiny bit of an edge in his voice. Isaac isn't fine, and he can't understand how he lost control so easily. How he went from fine to seeing red in no time flat. He shakes his hands a little and then adjusts his masks. ]

The air smells like something died, by the way. Don't take your mask off. I'll probably get sick from it, I didn't realize it came off.

[ He was way too busy baring teeth and looking generally woofy. ]

[Davesprite also doesn't think Isaac is fine, but he doesn't press the issue. For now, anyway.]

Maybe you should visit a doctor. Or at least get checked over by a lab tech.

[It's uneasy, but Davesprite really doesn't like the idea Isaac might get fucked up because he wasn't quick enough to dodge an alien on the street. Pretty fucking sloppy work, on his part; his reflexes should be better than that.]

Nah. I'm probably just tired. That guy just pissed me off. Who just wails on someone in the middle of the street like that?

[ Isaac shrugs, still tense, but he's at least starting to calm down a little bit. His heart rate isn't through the roof and the adrenaline is wearing off. ]

If he'd tried it again I would have fought him. Probably would have punched me, too.

Yeah, well, I guess you were right, either way. It was inevitable I was gonna get punched.

[It's mostly dryly ironic, but Davesprite is still pretty stunned by the whole thing. Confused, because game or not, he isn't sure he deserved that. He's not even sure he did anything wrong in the first place—or maybe the alien picked a fight totally at random, who fucking knows.]

I could've handled it ok on my own.

A face like that? Yeah. Inevitable.

[ He isn't be as dry or ironic, he's trying to get the situation back to feeling somewhat normal, even if he's shaken, too. ]

You probably could have kicked his ass better than me, but I don't know. [ He shrugs, shoves his hands into his pockets again, a go-to when things get uncomfortable. ] I just reacted. I mean you got punched in the face, and you're my friend, so.

Yeah, but...

[He trails off, less interested in clarifying he can look after himself and more unsure how to articulate that he doesn't expect anyone else to do it for him. Sure, they're friends—of course they're friends—but Davesprite is used to people leaving him to his own devices, whether because they don't think he needs the help or he cuts them off first.

His head ducks and he rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed and awkward.]

...Thanks.

Sure. [ Isaac shrugs, because it isn't that big of a deal. Back home it was par for the course to casually defend his friends and fight for them. Werewolf life is very odd in Beacon Hills.

He's distracted enough to not notice just how awkward Davesprite might feel, but he's not so distracted he doesn't notice some of the shop signs as they pass. He points up ahead at a sign, grinning a little. ]

They even have alien pizza. We'd have to take bets on who'd die from toxins first, though. I mean, with the air and stuff.

You, probably.

[Deadpan, even if the set of his shoulders is still unsure.]

How much of that shit did you even breathe in. Do werewolves breathe more than the average human?

[He knows that's a stupid question; he's just being a douche.]

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