[Instead of making her mad, it stirs something in her, and makes her laugh instead. She peers up at him as he gets up, but doesn’t move.]
Than George? Yeah, you’d win that bet easily. [Poor George. It’s true, though. He wasn’t unathletic, but he was in the Newspaper Club. That should have said it all.]
He wasn’t setting any records. Still hot. Just. Not strong.
He halts himself mid-sentence. Rex is sure that she's said it and he didn't catch the specifics, something about how Parker and her now-dead ex were a perfect set, raised in privilege and together long enough so that they knew each other best.
But what Rex really feels the need, the incessant urge to inquire, is why a woman would like him. Sure, he's got superpowers, and thus he's snagged a cool and seemingly glamorous job, and he's handsome, but that is all Rex Splode, everything you'd see in the papers. Truth be told, his powers were a gift so that he could become a tool, and before that, he had nothing. Not riches nor smarts i the conventional sense, but what Rex fails to acknowledge in himself is that through sheer willpower and a considerable amount of dumb luck, he survived. In a way, he earned the gift, and then some.
Most kids his age wouldn't have stood a chance. Most adults, in all honesty.
What of Rex Sloan? What about him could be attractive to anyone but Samantha Eve Wilkins, who shared a similar uncanny origin and troubled childhood, other than the all that glitters on the outside? There's a reason the colors on his suit and even his voice are so damn loud- He needs to distract from what lies beneath.
If his mother and father couldn't even love him, a child they themselves created from their very DNA, how could anybody else?
Parker probably doesn't have an answer.]
You wanna get outta here?
[Rex isn't sure to where. His room's probably too crowded, as three's far too much company. Especially when he always feels so left out.]
[In Parker’s defense, there was a point when George had seemed strong—- but that was like. Middle school. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. She watches the question fall from his lips before she finishes—- and for once, she doesn’t push it. Instead, she holds her hand up for him to help her up off the ground.]
Ugh. Yes, please.
Are you going to be able to handle yourself while I wash the chlorine out of my hair, or am I going to have to lock you in the hall?
no subject
Than George? Yeah, you’d win that bet easily. [Poor George. It’s true, though. He wasn’t unathletic, but he was in the Newspaper Club. That should have said it all.]
He wasn’t setting any records. Still hot. Just. Not strong.
no subject
[Why?
He halts himself mid-sentence. Rex is sure that she's said it and he didn't catch the specifics, something about how Parker and her now-dead ex were a perfect set, raised in privilege and together long enough so that they knew each other best.
But what Rex really feels the need, the incessant urge to inquire, is why a woman would like him. Sure, he's got superpowers, and thus he's snagged a cool and seemingly glamorous job, and he's handsome, but that is all Rex Splode, everything you'd see in the papers. Truth be told, his powers were a gift so that he could become a tool, and before that, he had nothing. Not riches nor smarts i the conventional sense, but what Rex fails to acknowledge in himself is that through sheer willpower and a considerable amount of dumb luck, he survived. In a way, he earned the gift, and then some.
Most kids his age wouldn't have stood a chance. Most adults, in all honesty.
What of Rex Sloan? What about him could be attractive to anyone but Samantha Eve Wilkins, who shared a similar uncanny origin and troubled childhood, other than the all that glitters on the outside? There's a reason the colors on his suit and even his voice are so damn loud- He needs to distract from what lies beneath.
If his mother and father couldn't even love him, a child they themselves created from their very DNA, how could anybody else?
Parker probably doesn't have an answer.]
You wanna get outta here?
[Rex isn't sure to where. His room's probably too crowded, as three's far too much company. Especially when he always feels so left out.]
no subject
Ugh. Yes, please.
Are you going to be able to handle yourself while I wash the chlorine out of my hair, or am I going to have to lock you in the hall?