bootyhunter | CALL ME OUT

[In direct retaliation to her chiding, Rex pulls the zipper of the top half of his supersuit all the way down in one foul swoop. He shimmies out of it and chucks it messily onto a chair.

His body type isn’t particularly uncommon in this field, and he has no visible scars or tattoos. There aren’t all too many male superheroes with his skin color, but that’s already out there.]

No!

I just happen to like the taste of meat n’ cheese. And bread and shit.

Doesn’t everybody?

[She watches him-- not moving an inch, as she takes in his entire body. And so, begins the most intense game of chicken-- Parker refusing to break or look away, or anything, until--]

[She has to argue with him about this.]

In moderation. You'd never hear me saying so many about Hot Pockets!

[He flashes her a cocky, lop-sided grin.

He's worked hard for this body. A little prolonged eye contact from a pretty girl is the last thing he'd think to turn away from. If anything, he revels in the attention.]

So are you sayin' you like the taste of meat in your mouth?

[He chuckles at the obvious crudeness of the joke.]

C'mon! Be aw-nest.

[*honest butt like

make it more jason mantzoukas boston... u kno???? anyway]

In moderation, of course.

It's not the meat that's the issue! It's all the grease, and the-- [Parker lets out a little huff, catching herself getting actually argumentative about this, and rolling her eyes.]

I don't get looking like this by eating a ton of Hot Pockets. That's what I'm saying. Don't make this into something gross.

[Wow, she is great at dodging horrible questions, and gracefully too... Maybe he does need her help.]

Yeah, but isn't a sweet little cheat meal just so good?

Liiiiike, just the idea of it. Yeah, it's greasy, and, huh, yeah- It's a little gross.

That's the appeal.

[He tilts his head to the side.]

That's why I said in moderation -- [He's exhausting. If she were anyone else, she's positive she'd have walked out by now. At least he's nice to look at.]

I'm not going to deprive myself of junk food, that's ridiculous, but it's called junk food for a reason. It's literally just putting trash in your body.

[Oh, he knows.

Rex hasn't grown up with many privileges thus far, so he uses the very few he does possess right, left, and center.

He's well aware that if it weren't for his striking looks, he'd pretty much be solidly striking out.]

Seems to me like you don't know how to have any fun, Osama Bin-PomPom.

[With an infuriatingly keen smile on his face, he undoes the zipper to the bottom half of his neon tracksuit, exposing the white boxer briefs. In his mind, he is protesting.

Protesting common human decency, probably.]

I'm plenty fun. [Her eyes glance downward, at him messing with the zipper, then immediately dart back to his face. Oh, no. She isn't let him distract her like that. He's still not off the hook.]

You'd know that, if you showed up to more events with me. [And... then she leaves where she's standing by the door, and returns back to the chair she was in before.]

I was going to get you dinner. But since you're being so... [madlibs a rude adjective here!] ... I'll have to just stay here. And regale you with tales of how fun I am.

What?

[She's finally managed to crack the paper-thin shell of his buffoonish bluster, and for a moment, the metaphorical backing track of circus music slows to a sharp halt.

His brows furrow and his nose crinkles, but not in disdain like usual. Instead, he seems legitimately confused. Seconds pass as he tries to make sense of things.]

Why?

[Rex lets out a snort. The following dialogue is his attempt at keeping his cool, but he's failing miserably.]

I haven't even taken my pants off yet.

[Meaning that he hasn't done anything for her, not in his mind. Saving lives is his job, and it's how he earns his keep.

Or, well, it's what keeps him out of jail. His proximity to constantly being six feet under is ironically what allows for him to continue walking, breathing, and unfortunately talking like that.]

[Parker scoffs, bending to unbuckle the delicate clasp on her heels, so can take it off, gentle instead of kicking it off in a messy heap.]

Or your helmet. Or do you keep that on, when you’re trying to sleep with a girl?

[Her voice is dry, but when she peers back up at him? There’s a hint of a smile.]

Why do you have such an issue thinking someone might want to do something nice for you?

Well, no, but...

The girls I've slept with are also my coworkers, so they've already seen me without the...

[He gestures to his face, despising the hint of melancholy that's not-so-subtly setting in. It's easier to keep from being combative with Parker, in a way, because she too maintains a fiery sort of intensity. While it may be different than his own, it makes her a little more relatable.

Mostly because it's unpleasant.]

Aye-yai-yai, I don't owe you that sob story!

It's long. And sad, okay?

Nice?! "Nice" is bullshit.

[Here, he uses the finger quotation marks for emphasis.]

Most people aren't nice! They're just bein' nice because they want something from you!

How do I know you're not some sort of sleeper agent, huh? Someone who knows exactly how much arsenic it takes to kill me, since it's not even twice the regular amount!

[cue an awkward dead silence]

...Actually, I do know the answer to that one, mostly on account of... Well, I kinda-sorta bugged your phone because your fancy teeth looked suspicious to me? Uh...

Edited 2022-09-13 01:30 (UTC)

[Parker pauses. Runs her tongue across those fancy teeth. Offers him a dazzling smile.]

You think I’d know that kind of thing? [Shes kind of charmed. Then… she starts to laugh.]

What—- What kind of bug? Not the audio kind, right? Because if it was, you must have sat through a lot of dressing room gossip.

No, yeah, audio... But I filter for a few specific things, or anything that sounds like it could be code-word jargon?

[He looks like he doesn't want to get into it, but somehow, her truly insane reaction to ALL of that seems to warrant an explanation. She's not freaking out. Why is she not freaking out?]

If anybody were to send someone after me, a pretty girl would probably be their best bet. You're young and shit, but I've known operatives who were significantly younger, so...

[He's mostly referring to himself.]

It wouldn't be off the table, not entirely.

Edited 2022-09-13 01:47 (UTC)

[She’s not mad. In fact, she looks oddly pleased with herself, as she takes off the other shoe and sets them down carefully.]

Maybe it’ll be a second career. After I win Miss America properly, of course. I’m impressed you think I have the time.

What is it with you?

[He groans like a old man who once served in some kind of war effort, only he's just turned eighteen and has the maturity of an unmedicated toddler.]

Y'know, maybe it would have been better if you were a sleeper agent one of Radcliffe's old goons sent after me! At least I would've gotten some target practice out of it! Plus the whole hero-villain thing is... Hot.

[...Why does he sound disappointed all of a sudden.]

You're gonna hate me even more than you already do, probably, but can I be honest with you?

Ew. I don’t hate you. [She wrinkles her nose in disdain, then waves her hand for him to go on.]

Sure. Be honest. Unless you think I’m—- [She waves her phone at him] Oooooooo, Secret Miss America Spyyyyyyyy—-

[...Oh.

He looks surprised at that.]

It's not you, I just...

[Honesty, when free from sarcastic commentary and vulgar potshots, is uncomfortable for Rex. He hasn't had much experience with it working out in his favor, but as unfortunate as his final breakup conversation had gone with Eve, there was something oddly honest about it.

Rex will carry the mistake of betraying her trust to his grave, but there is something oddly freeing about the two of them finally being over. He's known all his life that she was too good for him and that their relationship was living on borrowed time. She wasn't used to being understood or appreciated, and he was buying hard into that first love bullshit, constantly dismissing the thought that someone better would come along and swoop her up.

Even though eventually, he did.]

I'm exhausted.

Omni motherfucking nightmare-man is on the loose in space somewhere, the girl I'm screwing doesn't particularly like to listen to me talk, and the girl I screwed over is smoochin' some lame-o dirtbag who could shuttle me into the stratosphere if he wanted.

Oh yeah! And the one dude friend I've ever had decided to steal my DNA just so he could finally bang. He didn't even have the decency to clone this version of me, because he's a lunatic, so he's currently prancin' around in my former kid body.

Do you know how fucked up that is? I don't wanna think about that guy usin' my baby dick! I see enough crazy, fucked up shit on the daily! Ugh, so... Long story short?

I'd like to get some shut eye.

Edited 2022-09-13 02:29 (UTC)

[For what it’s worth? Rex’s honesty softens Parker’s entire being. She even feels a little guilty—- she, Parker Rochford, guilty! —- about having interrupted what must be a rare period of rest. She scoots to the edge of her seat, ready to get up. But she doesn’t move, not just yet. Instead she’s watching him carefully, letting him vent, her perfect posture slipping away.]

That’s… Ugh. And I thought my best friend’s boyfriend trying to explode her and my ex was dramatic.

Are you—- [She inhales sharply.] —- Do you want me to go? Leave you alone?

I couldn’t hate you for being tired.

To be fair? That was pretty unwarranted.

Fuckin' psycho.

[And that's being said by someone who was once tempted to blow up his own parents. In his defense, they were pretty fucking horrible.]

You don't have to go if you don't want to, I just...

[Finally, after so much back and forth, the helmet comes off.

It doesn't matter what he decides to do, he thinks. Danger is unavoidable, and at this point, he's fairly screwed either way.]

I thought I'd give ya the chance to make an exit.

Consider it a courtesy for helpin' me fix my "reputation" or whatever the fuck.

Completely psycho. [She hadn’t expected the helmet to come off—- at all! So even though it’s technically a win for Parker, she can’t help but completely divert her eyes, trying to be polite.

… It doesn’t last long. She gives into temptation, and looks back at him, taking in his entire Rex-ness.]

You don’t have to thank me for that. I owe you.

You saved my life.

No... You don't.

[Rex is sporting a black eye from earlier in the day. He's gotten so used to being in pain that sometimes, if he's not in front of a mirror, he forgets that it's eve there. Still, he has that straw, sharp jaw that could cut glass, ad the nose that's been broken in one too many times. He looks significantly younger without the helmet, a lot closer to his actual age. His manbun is suffering a bit from being airlocked for so long, but his hair is an unusual shade of reddish brown by default.

Definitely the kind of color that's hard to forget.]

Keepin' people alive is what I'm supposed to do.

It's my job.

[He wonders if he's saved enough of them to even the tally.

As a child, Rex had taken one hundred and forty-eight lives. But as a baby adult, how many more have died as a result of his stubbornness, due to his sheer inability to think outside of his own head?]

If you had kicked the bucket, it would've been a shit loss!

That was an easy call, like, real easy.

If I fucked that one up, I might as well have hung up the suit.

Edited 2022-09-13 03:30 (UTC)

Shut up. It might be your job. But it meant a lot to me. Like. Everything. Obviously. [From the way he says it, it’s not so obvious. But she’ll fight him on that one, too.

There’s something about the way he looks right now that compels her to stand. She’s lost a few inches with her shoes off, her own tiny kind of vulnerability. It’s nowhere near the same thing as his mask. But it’s something. She moves to perch on the side of the loveseat with him.]

You’re right about that last part. A world without me—- that would be the worst. It would be worth quitting over.

[She reaches for that sad man bun, slow and deliberate, like she’s working with a spooked animal.]

[She twists his words in a way that he doesn't like, although something about it feels familiar. He too has done the dance of restructuring the jabs of others to stroke his own ego, and so as he removes his own steel-toed boots, he's able to mostly tune her out.

That is, until her hand gets close enough to his hair-]

[After which he lets out a loud, high-pitched yelp:]

NO!

[Despite the elevation in pitch, that signature Rex Splodian rasp remains.]

Why?!

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cw: um... offensive, i dont even know, who is reading this

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