⠀⠀ ꒰⠀⠀ steph. slashy the GOATTT

[ thinks about it for a second then shrugs, doing a so-so gesture with his hand. ] depends.

store bought. i make two boxes. [ huge. absolutely massive. ] do you add bacon bits?

❛ すると、第三の生き物が「来なさい！」と叫ぶのが聞こえた。そして見ると、黒い馬がいて、その乗り手は手に天秤を持っていた。 ❜ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ♡ + ↻

[ simply nods instead of adding his preference. ]

that isn’t consistent at all. but thanks. do you like homemade or store bought.

that’s not true. i don’t remember what my mother used to make for me when i was a child. but i like pizza a lot. and sandwiches. macaroni and cheese.

... it’s childish. i don’t want to say.

i don’t explore.

i’m not going to answer that.

i’m not being serious. i don’t have betting money.

i would bet money on it.

no.

that’s wretched.

[ he’s slamming the car door shut behind him and is in the process of about to snuff his cigarette out when she approaches him, and has to just laugh in the face of her question, surprisingly genuine. ] no, and i have no intention of doing so.

[ he soberly watches her, almost sleepily, as she climbs onto her motorcycle and partially shakes his head to himself after a few heartbeats of nothingness, of no action—think of like a disapproving parent, almost—before he eventually climbs into his car, some old piece of shit he bought +

[ he’s very nosily—and not secretively at all, either—staring at the mass of keys she has. there is no way and no reason she needs so much, to him it indicates she must own so much. how? blink, blink. ] uh... i have things to do later in the evening. so not for a while. +

a motorcycle? oh god, no, no, no. [ god, he thought she meant a regular bike—he’d have been thrilled if she’d came at him with a motorcycle when he was younger, but now it’s almost laughable, the thought of him on one of those. ] no—i’ll—i’ll just follow in my car.

that’s today? right now? [ that confusion still remains etched on his face even the further more he’s presented to the real world, rising gracelessly from where he’d been sitting at. one of his fingers is bleeding—and he quickly pops it into his mouth so she doesn’t say anything. ] +

[ comes back to reality gradually—must have been daydreaming, or deep in thought. he looks at her, almost confused. ] have you been speaking to me this whole time?

[ idly picking at his cuticles. ]

i must be high on every drug imaginable.

i mean... obviously, i can’t stay forever. [ there’s a glimmer of a grin, but it’s awkward and vanishes as briskly as it came. ] you can just call me. when it’s over. [ if she can, at least. ] and i’ll either come or i won’t, i might be asleep or busy. i do a lot.

[ he has to think for a moment. it’s been a while. ] donkey kong or pacman.

⠀⠀ ꒰⠀⠀ steph. hasan pikers dog

in an arcade? [ looking at her a little like she’s kind of stupid. no offense, slashy. ] yes, when i was a child. all of the time.

[ just stares at her blankly for a moment—then twists away to cough, thankful for that interruption, even if it’s wracking his body. ] um—okay. sure. i’m not. i don’t really want a burger after, though.

why... would you even want to?

do whatever you want. [ but another burger? really? to last you so long? ]

⠀⠀ ꒰⠀⠀ steph. im so sorry mutt i got so sidetracked

sounds like you’re already getting used to the schedule change.

hm.

⠀⠀ ꒰⠀⠀ steph. i follow everyone on my 50 accts idc im free

⠀⠀ ꒰⠀⠀ steph. i’m going to steal and do this for michael, actually, since i actually DO put a lot of thought into his portrayal. 🤔

‎ ୧ ‧₊˚ 🎨 🫀୧ ‧₊˚ 𖹭.ᐟ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎✎ᝰ - The Ripper . an independent portrayal of Jack from identity v . ୧ ‧₊˚ 🎨 🫀୧ ‧₊˚ 𖹭.ᐟ #mvrp #idvrp #historicalrp

💭 — — does she really think i am going to touch her food? what the fuck. i am just going to keep eating and be quiet.

[ oh, she’s the type to talk and eat, okay. well, it’s better than an uncomfortable silence. ] don’t talk about it in public. [ the job, he’s meaning. ] that isn’t for the people to know.

[ it doesn’t take a while at all for their food to be finished, but he doesn’t wave her up for her to grab her food—he’ll just juggle the trays, and the drinks, and very... very slowly... find his way over. he makes sure everything is grabbed beforehands—napkins, condiments—so that they can eat +

💭 — — this is so awkward and awful i need a. I need to run. 🤔

i like pickles. it’s fine. [ his hand goes to instinctively pull at the front of his shirt—like its too tight, or too warm—but stops himself, turning away, since he needs to order something for himself too. ] i—um, could you find a place for us to sit?

[ doesn’t answer, just looking at her a little earnestly. then— ] are you going to order your food?

[ a spark of irritation burns on his face, but it vanishes as swiftly as it appeared, left to just—an empty solidity. ] i’ll rest when i get my belongings back, thank you.

[ nods slowly in agreement. ] fair enough. do you like pickles?

zero. [ because he’s never been here. but... well, he wouldn’t mind straying over to those later after eating or something. there’ll always be a part of him that likes those stupid games. ] [ long, quiet pause. then he looks over at her, as if curious. ] what do you usually like on a burger?

( mdni ﹔ adult mun ﹠ muse ) 𓏻 the false shepherd ⸻ 𝙶𝙰𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙻. fandomless portrayal. mandela catalogue canon. by 𝘺𝘰𝘳𝘪.

[ his head dips a little as a 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶, sidling past so he can make his way inside. despite his appetite originally waning, it seems to flare now, when confronted with the smell of food, and he hopes to god they aren’t able to hear his stomach growl. ] what do you mean, 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦?

they don’t usually finish a shift. [ he won’t elaborate on that. ] i mean, you can try, but that technically would be me... in a way.