bootyhunter | CALL ME OUT

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?!

It's so sad looking, and smooshed-- [She doesn't react much to his yelp, but does pull her hand back a little.]

-- but still, weirdly, looks so healthy? Most guys just use that awful bodywash-shampoo combo, but--

It’s from a helmet I had on when I was free-falling fifty feet in the air!

[He barks, a running a hand through it after growling.]

Yeah, I can’t use that 3-in-1 stuff? It makes my scalp all itchy.

And my balls, yeugh.

Uh, yeah, no one should use that stuff. It's practically criminal that they even make it.

[She ignores the last comment. And since he's taken his hair down on his own, she gives up on doing it herself.]

Not bad, under the helmet.

[Rex frets with his hair, his gaze going sideways. He despises himself for not feeling more confident and acting on impulse like he usually does, but there are days when even The Rex Man/"""~Rexy Boi~"""/and "sexy rexxy???" ~~jfc~~ doesn't feel particularly, well... Sexy.

He wonders, in part, if it's because she's being nice.]

Yeah, well, it's a lot nicer when my face isn't fucked.

[As if the universe knows exactly what's going on, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out to look, and... Oh, great, another horny text from Kate.]

It should fade in a few hours, though.

My healing factor's pretty reliable in a pinch.

It’s part of your charm. I won’t hold it against you.

…Does it hurt? [Her voice is gentle, the hint of concern there as she leans in just so to get a better look at it. It’s— almost a moment, then his phone buzzing jerks her back to reality.]

Please tell me they aren’t calling you back out.

No, no!

[Ah! Genuine Concern, he's immediately uncomfortable. Also, him? Charming??? Yeah, she's definitely horny 4 hotheads or something because, uh, even he's not sure he's falling for that...]

That would be my teammate tryin' to get me to throw her back out.

And those're two very different things!

[He scoffs, letting that joke pass, even though an awkward silence still hangs between them.]

Also, "charming?" If you're gonna flirt with me, at least tell me the truth.

Edited 2022-09-14 02:01 (UTC)

I didn’t say charming. I said your charm. Different things. You should probably just take the compliment.

[She sounds annoyed, but she’s still smiling.]

What, you’re not even going to reply to her? Poor girl.

[She's smiling. He should be happy, and the shitty part of him is! For some reason, his awful, shitty, undeserving-of-love ass, still manages to get people's attention.

He projects his body as his, when it isn't, not completely. The teeth in his mouth aren't the ones he was born with, as most of them have been knocked out by now. There are wires running all the way up and along his arms beneath his skin, and his bones have been injected with this bizarre polymer that keeps them limber, flexible, and oddly resistant to fractures under high amounts of pressure.

What's his are his shitty jokes. The love he never received from his parents. His lack of responsibility.

And the love he so disastrously spurned from Eve.]

I'm positive the girl just wants a dick pic.

It ain't that serious.

[He waits. There's no second notification.]

If it was, she'd hit me up twice.

Edited 2022-09-14 02:33 (UTC)

[She nods, not really believing him-- then hanging onto that little bit of a wait.

But then he mentions Kate hitting him up twice if she was serious, and her polite pageant-girl layer slips aside. Here's queen bee, cheer captain Parker Rochford, erupting into laughter. It's probably a little mean, but Parker's always been a little mean, when it's harmless to do so.]

Oh my god-- you've got it down to a system. Now I really feel bad for her.

[Laughter.

Laughter helps. Rex knows that he's not funny enough to be a professional, seeing he's not the kind of suave, charming fuckead with rich parents who's constantly in and out of big-budget films. But a laugh is so much more genuine than the attention paid to his physique, and making someone crack a real smile is a lot less head-hurty than dealing with the constant objectification of his body.

Rex's body isn't really his, and he's often struggled with that. To be quite frank, it currently belongs to the government. But his dumb quips? That's all him and indisputably so, for better or for worse.

He likes that she's a little mean. It's a welcome relief from all the personality policing he receives on the daily. When your job becomes something you have to take home with you, it gets tiring.]

Do you, though? Between Jailbait and the guy who's already halfway to the superhero retirement home, she doesn't really have too many options, so!

We do the occasional team bonding exercise once in a while...

That sometimes requires actual bondage.

[He rubs the back of his neck haphazardly.

Rex knows what he wants. It's something he always wants.

Company. Attention. To feel like he deserves to be seen, if only for a little while.]

She hates me.

[Parker leans back against the corner of the loveseat, her head tilted in his direction so she can still see him while she finally lets go of her precise posture. He does look tired, and she knows she should probably leave him alone so he can get some rest. But she also doesn't want to leave him here, all on his own.

She knows what lonely's like. Immediately after the accident, she'd lost her best friend and her boyfriend. It was her own doing-- and she bounced back okay, but it had still been lonely. If it weren't for her pageant work, she doesn't know if her social status could have been maintained-- if her future would have been okay. So much weighed on carefully built social relationships, crafted throughout generations. She'd damaged things with the Boleyns. The heir to the Tudor fortune was off in some swanky prison. Her pageant friends were nice enough-- but they were competition.

Maybe they were both a little lonely. So she stays.]

Does she really? Why?

[Rex's shoulders heave and he exhales sharply, the noise long and drawn out. This is nice, in a way. Nice doesn't come his way too often.

There's a sort of pleasantness to just talking. He usually does everything to get around to doing literally anything else, usually something physical, whether it be sex, a fight, or another strange beer-filled milk-carton excursion, because he trusts his poise more than he does his heart or his head.]

I can think up a few reasons.

[Parker watches him carefully, noting the way that he breathes. He seems a little more relaxed now, at least.]

Do you care that she hates you? [Its maybe a bit personal— but the questions still sincere.]

[He puffs up one cheek, those nostrils of his flaring momentarily.

It's a good question. Rex can't be sure he has the answer.]

Sometimes?

[Being hated is unavoidable, and it's definitely less desirable than being liked, that's for sure.

But it's better than being ignored.

At least if he's the asshole, he is someone. He will still be remembered.

Even though it isn't for anything great.]

It might be bigger than her, though.

And all the other "hers".

[It’s weird to see him like this. Vulnerable and unmasked, literally. He looks so different than he did prom night, as he pulled her away from the flames.]

It’s normal to be hated. People hate me, all the time.

[Tentatively, she scoots closer to him.]

And for what it’s worth? I don’t hate you.

Edited 2022-09-15 01:32 (UTC)

Haters are different.

[Vulnerability is uncomfortable, and uncool.

He despises it.]

They're people who don't know your ass, so they take potshots atcha on the 'gram! Havin' haters means you're relevant enough to make randos think about you for way longer than is clinically, contractually, and factually normal, which means-

[Here, he takes a breath.]

They're also probably makin' use of at least a teeeeeny-tiny bit of that frustration to jerk off!

And I dunno about you, but I happen to count any imaginary visitations to the grimy dustbin of brain-sin a win in my book.

[Do you see how long-winded he is getting just to avoid addressing the fact that someone doesn't hate him...]

Okay, but like, you can't know that for-sure for-sure!

You don't even know me that well.

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