Pyro and Fatale | Backdated to 3/31
Mar. 31st, 2018 11:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ax_fatale posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ax_mainPyro hears Fatale and Alex are leaving, and has a few things to say on the subject.
Pam was still holding it together, mostly for Alex's sake, when she made her excuses to him and told him she needed to go find Mort and get something back from him before they started packing it up. It wasn't even a lie - Mort did have one of her DVDs, and she did want it back - but mostly she just needed to get away from Alex for a bit, so she could let the facade crack. Even focusing on being Fatale wasn't going to keep it in check much longer.
She debated turning invisible, an easy way to make sure she wouldn't run into anyone, but decided against. Given her current frame of mind, she had no idea how long it'd take her to get visibility back. It wasn't worth the risk.
Pyro was flicking his lighter open and close as he headed towards his room - their room, really, although right now, he couldn't even feel happy about that. Not after what he'd just learned, and he couldn't make it make sense. No, seriously. So when he suddenly found himself face to face with Fatale, one of the two reasons why he felt so shitty right now, his confused expression turned into a scowl. "You're fucking leaving?"
"Wow. Feeling the love. Thanks, Flamehead." Returning his scowl with one of her own, Fatale started past him. Yeah. Just what she'd needed. Invisibility was sounding better and better.
"You're the one who's leaving, fuck you!" Pyro retorted immediately. "What did you expect, a goodbye party?"
"I didn't expect this," Fatale shot back. She turned towards him, planting her hands on her hips (despite how ridiculous that looked, with the right one still in a cast). All the pent up fear, frustration, and resentment bubbled up to the surface, and she glared at her teammate. "But fuck you, too. Because they call me the crazy one, but you're the fucking idiot who didn't have enough brains to not set explosives on fire. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be going anywhere."
"They got what they deserved!" Pyro ignored the way her words echoed what he was feeling, because that way lay massive hurt. Better to just focus on the anger burning in his chest. "It's not my fault your boyfriend can't fucking handle it."
Fatale didn't take time to think, she just reacted. A moment later, she was glaring up at Pyro, who she'd slammed into the wall, her cast against his chest and a knife pressed against his throat. "Want to say that again?" she hissed. He could say what he wanted about her, whatever. But he was not insulting Alex. Even if - or especially if - what he was saying was true. Alex didn't have to be able to handle things he couldn't. That was why he had her.
For some reason, Pyro hadn't actually expected her to go there. That reason was probably something awfully close to still thinking of her as family, and he hadn't meant the same sort of family who had banged him around all his life. So he was unprepared for the attack, like a fucking idiot, and his lighter fell from his grip as his back hit the wall. The bruises on his side weren't enjoying the moment, but the pain helped him get through the hurt and to the anger at the other side, still, so he'd take it. "Your boyfriend. Can't fucking. Handle it," he repeated, the look in his eyes daring her to do something with that knife.
She kept glaring a minute longer, fingers trembling as she held the knife against his throat, then swallowed hard and took a step back. Pissed or not, Pyro was her teammate.
Had been her teammate. And more than that, once. And...fuck.
"No, he can't. End of story." She turned to walk away, then paused. "Sorry. About that." And started walking.
Pyro slumped against the wall, then crouched down very quickly to pick up his lighter. He watched her back as he straightened up, then called out, "Good fucking riddance!"
He needed to go burn some shit.
Pam was still holding it together, mostly for Alex's sake, when she made her excuses to him and told him she needed to go find Mort and get something back from him before they started packing it up. It wasn't even a lie - Mort did have one of her DVDs, and she did want it back - but mostly she just needed to get away from Alex for a bit, so she could let the facade crack. Even focusing on being Fatale wasn't going to keep it in check much longer.
She debated turning invisible, an easy way to make sure she wouldn't run into anyone, but decided against. Given her current frame of mind, she had no idea how long it'd take her to get visibility back. It wasn't worth the risk.
Pyro was flicking his lighter open and close as he headed towards his room - their room, really, although right now, he couldn't even feel happy about that. Not after what he'd just learned, and he couldn't make it make sense. No, seriously. So when he suddenly found himself face to face with Fatale, one of the two reasons why he felt so shitty right now, his confused expression turned into a scowl. "You're fucking leaving?"
"Wow. Feeling the love. Thanks, Flamehead." Returning his scowl with one of her own, Fatale started past him. Yeah. Just what she'd needed. Invisibility was sounding better and better.
"You're the one who's leaving, fuck you!" Pyro retorted immediately. "What did you expect, a goodbye party?"
"I didn't expect this," Fatale shot back. She turned towards him, planting her hands on her hips (despite how ridiculous that looked, with the right one still in a cast). All the pent up fear, frustration, and resentment bubbled up to the surface, and she glared at her teammate. "But fuck you, too. Because they call me the crazy one, but you're the fucking idiot who didn't have enough brains to not set explosives on fire. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be going anywhere."
"They got what they deserved!" Pyro ignored the way her words echoed what he was feeling, because that way lay massive hurt. Better to just focus on the anger burning in his chest. "It's not my fault your boyfriend can't fucking handle it."
Fatale didn't take time to think, she just reacted. A moment later, she was glaring up at Pyro, who she'd slammed into the wall, her cast against his chest and a knife pressed against his throat. "Want to say that again?" she hissed. He could say what he wanted about her, whatever. But he was not insulting Alex. Even if - or especially if - what he was saying was true. Alex didn't have to be able to handle things he couldn't. That was why he had her.
For some reason, Pyro hadn't actually expected her to go there. That reason was probably something awfully close to still thinking of her as family, and he hadn't meant the same sort of family who had banged him around all his life. So he was unprepared for the attack, like a fucking idiot, and his lighter fell from his grip as his back hit the wall. The bruises on his side weren't enjoying the moment, but the pain helped him get through the hurt and to the anger at the other side, still, so he'd take it. "Your boyfriend. Can't fucking. Handle it," he repeated, the look in his eyes daring her to do something with that knife.
She kept glaring a minute longer, fingers trembling as she held the knife against his throat, then swallowed hard and took a step back. Pissed or not, Pyro was her teammate.
Had been her teammate. And more than that, once. And...fuck.
"No, he can't. End of story." She turned to walk away, then paused. "Sorry. About that." And started walking.
Pyro slumped against the wall, then crouched down very quickly to pick up his lighter. He watched her back as he straightened up, then called out, "Good fucking riddance!"
He needed to go burn some shit.
