[Dodger doesn't usually use the door to the suite - or any door - so that might be the first hint that something is different. He announces himself with the door slamming shut, the skitter of claws on the floor and the loud whining and panting of a dog.]
Can you shut up...
[He's dragging a morbidly skinny dog along with a hand on its prong collar, nearly choking it to keep it at his side while it pants and drools and stares at him with eyes wide enough to see the whites. It's not really to keep the dog close; it's to keep the dog from jumping up on him, which it's clearly straining to do.
He's hoping Lester isn't around right now, but... he couldn't hide any dog forever, especially not this clumsy bastard.]
[The sound of animal steps is significantly different than the sound of feet on the floor, so it's unusual enough that Lester feels the need to see what the hell is in their room. To his knowledge Dodger doesn't have pets, and there's no one else they have to share the place with so he might need to shoot an intruder.
Where Bullseye got the shotgun is a secret, but he has it in hand, aimed at the scrawny dog when he steps out.]
What the hell is that and why is it in here?
[He trains the gun at Dodger instead, he's obviously the more threatening of the two. The dog hardly looks like it has the strength to chase a cat much less attack him. Eventually Lester lowers the gun, figuring that might be a slightly warmer invitation to receive some fucking answers.]
[Dodger honestly doesn't react to the gun being pointed at Crusher, but his brow twitches when it's moved to himself. Still, he relaxes when Lester lowers the gun, and he offers him a shrug.]
It's a dog.
[Crusher lets out a whine that turns into a yawn, licks his lips and breaks out into another round of loud panting. He's stopped trying to jump up on Dodger, instead wiggling to try and move behind Dodger's leg. It really just chokes him worse on the prong collar.
Dodger groans quietly and shakes his head.]
Crusher. Sit. [The dog immediately sits, hard enough that he chokes himself yet again in the process.] My boss saddled me with him a couple months ago. No fucking idea how he ended up in Hell.
[What he means is why is the dog in here? And his face must say as much because eventually Dodger explains.]
Crusher, huh? Whatever, just keep him out of my face or I’m throwing it out the window. [But then the pitiful dog is already more likable than his room mate.]
[He finally lets go of Crusher's collar, now that he's pushed the door shut. Immediately Crusher starts investigating the room but he sticks close to the wall, occasionally shooting nervous looks at Lester. The whole time he's still panting as loudly as dogly possible, and drool is dripping onto the floor wherever he goes.]
Ha-ha. [He answers the job comment, rolling his eyes while he works on getting out his pack of cigarettes and lighting up.] That's rich coming for you, you look like you came here from a mental ward.
[Lester watches the dog move around the place, noticing the shy interest toward him, but with Dodger watching he doesn’t do anything to make himself seem more inviting to the mutt.]
I only ended up there because I was too good at my job. Apparently assassins are only supposed to kill for pay.
[He shrugs, shotgun still in hand.] Anyway, your dog looks as stupid as you do. It’s a good match.
[That's an interesting tidbit to learn about Bullseye, though. There's something nice about how much they have in common.
He narrows his eyes at that last comment, and flips him the bird. Even if he's starting to gain a lazy grin.]
Go fuck yourself, man. Just keep out of his way, he's a little unpredictable.
[If by 'unpredictable' you mean 'will scream if touched after being hit so many times, but has never bitten in his life', then sure. Sure, that's what he is.]
[At least whatever is behind putting people with roommates did a pretty fucking good job with the two of them because Lester hasn't impaled or shot Dodger even once yet. Which, for him, is probably an accomplishment.
He..might shoot the dog, but only to put it out of it's pathetic misery. Look at that face.]
Unpredictable? I predict he's going to be a pain in my ass--just like you. [And definitely feed/bond with him when Dodger's out. Maybe teach it to bite someday (yeah, right).]
[Good luck, Dodger tried for most of a year. The dog doesn't bite.]
Aww, thought you liked me being a pain in your ass.
[That's getting a wink out of him.
And Crusher is slinking away toward the kitchenette, sniffing around hopefully for food. Dodger's smile drops and he groans, snapping his fingers and causing Crusher to snap to attention and skitter right back out.]
He's staying in the living room, I'll put his crate in Setsuna's old room so he's not wasting our space. Just lock him in there if you've got company, I guess.
Fuck off. I’m not here for your entertainment, asshole
[The last time he went along with this shit he ended up not getting to follow through on all the nasty sexting that went on, so he’s reluctant to get disappointed again. Or worse, blue balls.]
That's not what you led me to believe. The fuck kind of conman are you, anyway? That's just fucked up.
[He knows if he pulls something like that other time and agrees to let Dodger top, he's going to keep doing that shit over and over, and Lester is not having it.]
I don’t want a goddamn instruction manual. I want you to get over here so I can figure this shit out. There has to be some fucking middle ground because I’m not letting you fuck me again like last time.
So poof yourself in here and stop wasting my time.
[He understands that there must be a reason why Dodger is dodging him on this, but he wants to know why, or otherwise he doesn’t want to talk about it at all.]
[There's been a lot going on in his life, and honestly, most of it is his fault. But if he dwells on it being his fault, he's just going to make himself sick. Francis is out of the suite, so it's just him and Lester; he can almost pretend things are back to normal, before the kid moved in.
Lester is sitting on the couch, and Dodger does his best to be casual about sliding into his lap and resting his head on Lester's shoulder. For a moment it seems like he's just going to stay like that, but no, he wants to talk.]
Do you think I'm a monster?
[He got a black eye on his birthday, but it finally seems to have faded away. He's been flighty since then, and he's barely spoken to Lester or Francis.]
[He's been doing his best to give the two men some space after their threesome. While he enjoyed it, there was a sense that something more was going on between them and their dynamic that he didn't want to mess with, get in the way of, or be involved with. They also seemed to make a good match, so to avoid any potential to get sentimental he'd been trying to space himself from them when they were in the suite.
So he's surprised that he missed Dodger being there, but when the man lands right on his lap he can't in good conscience shove him off. Fuck, he definitely has a soft spot for both his room mates. He hates it.]
What are you talking about? I kill people for money.
[It's the first he's getting a good look at Dodger since his party, and when he sees the barest remnants of a black eye he sighs and puts an arm around him, pulling him closer.] What I mean is, I'm obviously not a good judge of character. Why do you feel that way?
[Dodger is a little surprised that he's not getting snarked at, but he's not about to complain. Actually, the arm around him feels sort of nice, and he shifts to settle a bit more comfortably on him.]
That's why I'm asking you. [He shrugs awkwardly.] You're not a hero, or a... normal person. If you think I am, then it's probably true.
[His gaze slides down, and for a moment there's a hint of the real reason he's asking. Because he's hurt, and he wants some reassurance. Though he can't say why exactly he's looking for it here... probably because he and Francis have finally found a few things they disagree on.]
I tried to kill someone on my birthday. I lost my temper and I- ... It wasn't fun, I wasn't doing it for sport, I just stopped thinking. She's someone I was supposed to be keeping safe, because her boyfriend means a lot to me, and now he's... not speaking to me.
[There's a time and place for the snark and Dodger does seem like he's going though some shit, so the least he can do is be honest with him.]
A normal person. [He repeats the words, and rolls his eyes.]
Is this coming from a takes-one-to-know-one sort of kindergarten logic? [Lester shuts up when his roommate keeps talking, and his grip on the man loosens as he processes, frowning.] What the hell do you want me to say, Dodger? I can't sit here and tell you you're a good person. So if that's what you're looking for you came to the wrong fucking place.
[He lifts his hands to let Dodger up if he wants to go.] So what if you're a monster? Own that shit. When people play with fire they get burned, and when they associate with monsters who breathe fire they know the fucking risks. I'd say kill the boyfriend for good measure, but I guess it's pointless since they all just come back.
[He doesn't want to leave, and he looks a bit put out when Lester lets go of him. It seems that Lester agrees with Squalo; the issue isn't Dodger's temper, it's the guilty afterward. He's weak.]
Not really what I was hoping for. [He shifts, moving to straddle Lester's lap and slide his arms around the older man's neck.] But that's the right answer, huh? Give up and stop trying to be friends with good people?
[He takes a deep breath that comes out as a low sigh, and presses his lips against the side of Lester's neck. His motions are slow, almost shy, ready to be pushed off.]
Things were simpler when I had someone else to answer to.
[Which might be an offer. Not that he's thought it through in the slightest.]
[When Dodger doesn't make any movement to get up, he relaxes a bit more against the back of the couch. He suspects the other man will stay close, but didn't think he would straddle his hips and lean in closer. Lester inhales slowly like he's bothered by it, but pretending like he's not attracted to Dodger was pointless at this point.
His hands settle on strong thighs as he tilts his head back to look up at him.] I didn't say give up. Be friends with whoever the fuck you like, just don't make them believe you're someone they should feel safe around ever. If that happens and they let their guard down, it wouldn't be your fault.
[The lips against his neck make it hard to talk, so he considers just staying silent though he's torn between engaging with Dodger and shoving him off. Lester grabs that face firmly by the jaw to kiss his mouth directly, but only for a moment.] If you're looking for someone to slap your ass and keep you on a leash, that's not my thing. Too much responsibility.
[His hand slips to Dodger's neck, pushing him back as he licks his lips.]
[Dodger considers this, mulling the advice over slowly. He considers mentioning that Hector can't eat anymore because of him, that he can barely touch him without making him jump. It's more than just not being a safe person to be around, he actively hurts the man by being associated with him. But none of that is Lester's problem.
And anyway, he's busy melting into the kiss, a contented smirk tugging at his lips when that hand slides down to his neck. He's always had this problem with older men; they can do whatever they want to him, and yet they never seem to abuse it the way he likes.]
Did I ever tell you you remind me of my old boss? [He sighs softly.] It's fine... I don't want to follow forever. But we've got the place to ourselves so we could... indulge. For a bit.
[His hands are very subtly sliding under Lester's shirt, as if it isn't obvious enough already what he wants. Everything is a mess, and he wants to be broken.]
[Lester doesn't know Hector and wouldn't care. Not that knowing the guy would have changed the way he sees things. He's been living this way too long to change now. All he can do it give Dodger some shitty advice and a good distraction.]
No. You probably shouldn't fuck your boss, for a lot of reasons. [He smirks at the thought, not bothered so much by the comparison. Lester wouldn't hire Dodger for anything but the thing he's currently feeling guilty about, so maybe he'll keep those thoughts to himself.]
You could have started with that. I almost thought you really expected good advice from me. [He runs a thumb over Dodger's lips, stopping at his scar to press his thumb against it.] Now that we're done talking, you should put that mouth to better use.
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action; backdated to the 7th or so
Can you shut up...
[He's dragging a morbidly skinny dog along with a hand on its prong collar, nearly choking it to keep it at his side while it pants and drools and stares at him with eyes wide enough to see the whites. It's not really to keep the dog close; it's to keep the dog from jumping up on him, which it's clearly straining to do.
He's hoping Lester isn't around right now, but... he couldn't hide any dog forever, especially not this clumsy bastard.]
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Where Bullseye got the shotgun is a secret, but he has it in hand, aimed at the scrawny dog when he steps out.]
What the hell is that and why is it in here?
[He trains the gun at Dodger instead, he's obviously the more threatening of the two. The dog hardly looks like it has the strength to chase a cat much less attack him. Eventually Lester lowers the gun, figuring that might be a slightly warmer invitation to receive some fucking answers.]
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It's a dog.
[Crusher lets out a whine that turns into a yawn, licks his lips and breaks out into another round of loud panting. He's stopped trying to jump up on Dodger, instead wiggling to try and move behind Dodger's leg. It really just chokes him worse on the prong collar.
Dodger groans quietly and shakes his head.]
Crusher. Sit. [The dog immediately sits, hard enough that he chokes himself yet again in the process.] My boss saddled me with him a couple months ago. No fucking idea how he ended up in Hell.
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[What he means is why is the dog in here? And his face must say as much because eventually Dodger explains.]
Crusher, huh? Whatever, just keep him out of my face or I’m throwing it out the window. [But then the pitiful dog is already more likable than his room mate.]
Hard to believe you had a job, though.
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[He finally lets go of Crusher's collar, now that he's pushed the door shut. Immediately Crusher starts investigating the room but he sticks close to the wall, occasionally shooting nervous looks at Lester. The whole time he's still panting as loudly as dogly possible, and drool is dripping onto the floor wherever he goes.]
Ha-ha. [He answers the job comment, rolling his eyes while he works on getting out his pack of cigarettes and lighting up.] That's rich coming for you, you look like you came here from a mental ward.
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I only ended up there because I was too good at my job. Apparently assassins are only supposed to kill for pay.
[He shrugs, shotgun still in hand.] Anyway, your dog looks as stupid as you do. It’s a good match.
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[That's an interesting tidbit to learn about Bullseye, though. There's something nice about how much they have in common.
He narrows his eyes at that last comment, and flips him the bird. Even if he's starting to gain a lazy grin.]
Go fuck yourself, man. Just keep out of his way, he's a little unpredictable.
[If by 'unpredictable' you mean 'will scream if touched after being hit so many times, but has never bitten in his life', then sure. Sure, that's what he is.]
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He..might shoot the dog, but only to put it out of it's pathetic misery. Look at that face.]
Unpredictable? I predict he's going to be a pain in my ass--just like you. [And definitely feed/bond with him when Dodger's out. Maybe teach it to bite someday (yeah, right).]
Keep that thing out of my room.
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Good luck, Dodger tried for most of a year. The dog doesn't bite.]Aww, thought you liked me being a pain in your ass.
[That's getting a wink out of him.
And Crusher is slinking away toward the kitchenette, sniffing around hopefully for food. Dodger's smile drops and he groans, snapping his fingers and causing Crusher to snap to attention and skitter right back out.]
He's staying in the living room, I'll put his crate in Setsuna's old room so he's not wasting our space. Just lock him in there if you've got company, I guess.
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text // @dodger
what are you wearing?
[He walked through the suite to teleport into his room. He probably saw Lester on the way. He's just doing this to be a bitch.]
[text] @bullseye
I’m not here for your entertainment, asshole
[The last time he went along with this shit he ended up not getting to follow through on all the nasty sexting that went on, so he’s reluctant to get disappointed again. Or worse, blue balls.]
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come on, paint me a sexy word picture.
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[.....
SIGH.]
look, everything's got a price.
if you want to fuck, let's strike a deal.
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That's just fucked up.
[He knows if he pulls something like that other time and agrees to let Dodger top, he's going to keep doing that shit over and over, and Lester is not having it.]
I'm listening.
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look, if you want to top, you have to think of something that makes it worth my time. i'm not just gonna hand you an instruction manual.
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I don’t want a goddamn instruction manual. I want you to get over here so I can figure this shit out. There has to be some fucking middle ground because I’m not letting you fuck me again like last time.
So poof yourself in here and stop wasting my time.
[He understands that there must be a reason why Dodger is dodging him on this, but he wants to know why, or otherwise he doesn’t want to talk about it at all.]
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cw: blood
also cw: dodger being a freak
cw: blood is lube now ig
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leeeet's dooo the tiiiimewaaaarp agaaaaiiin
dances furiously
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action;
Lester is sitting on the couch, and Dodger does his best to be casual about sliding into his lap and resting his head on Lester's shoulder. For a moment it seems like he's just going to stay like that, but no, he wants to talk.]
Do you think I'm a monster?
[He got a black eye on his birthday, but it finally seems to have faded away. He's been flighty since then, and he's barely spoken to Lester or Francis.]
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So he's surprised that he missed Dodger being there, but when the man lands right on his lap he can't in good conscience shove him off. Fuck, he definitely has a soft spot for both his room mates. He hates it.]
What are you talking about? I kill people for money.
[It's the first he's getting a good look at Dodger since his party, and when he sees the barest remnants of a black eye he sighs and puts an arm around him, pulling him closer.] What I mean is, I'm obviously not a good judge of character. Why do you feel that way?
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That's why I'm asking you. [He shrugs awkwardly.] You're not a hero, or a... normal person. If you think I am, then it's probably true.
[His gaze slides down, and for a moment there's a hint of the real reason he's asking. Because he's hurt, and he wants some reassurance. Though he can't say why exactly he's looking for it here... probably because he and Francis have finally found a few things they disagree on.]
I tried to kill someone on my birthday. I lost my temper and I- ... It wasn't fun, I wasn't doing it for sport, I just stopped thinking. She's someone I was supposed to be keeping safe, because her boyfriend means a lot to me, and now he's... not speaking to me.
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A normal person. [He repeats the words, and rolls his eyes.]
Is this coming from a takes-one-to-know-one sort of kindergarten logic? [Lester shuts up when his roommate keeps talking, and his grip on the man loosens as he processes, frowning.] What the hell do you want me to say, Dodger? I can't sit here and tell you you're a good person. So if that's what you're looking for you came to the wrong fucking place.
[He lifts his hands to let Dodger up if he wants to go.] So what if you're a monster? Own that shit. When people play with fire they get burned, and when they associate with monsters who breathe fire they know the fucking risks. I'd say kill the boyfriend for good measure, but I guess it's pointless since they all just come back.
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Not really what I was hoping for. [He shifts, moving to straddle Lester's lap and slide his arms around the older man's neck.] But that's the right answer, huh? Give up and stop trying to be friends with good people?
[He takes a deep breath that comes out as a low sigh, and presses his lips against the side of Lester's neck. His motions are slow, almost shy, ready to be pushed off.]
Things were simpler when I had someone else to answer to.
[Which might be an offer. Not that he's thought it through in the slightest.]
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His hands settle on strong thighs as he tilts his head back to look up at him.] I didn't say give up. Be friends with whoever the fuck you like, just don't make them believe you're someone they should feel safe around ever. If that happens and they let their guard down, it wouldn't be your fault.
[The lips against his neck make it hard to talk, so he considers just staying silent though he's torn between engaging with Dodger and shoving him off. Lester grabs that face firmly by the jaw to kiss his mouth directly, but only for a moment.] If you're looking for someone to slap your ass and keep you on a leash, that's not my thing. Too much responsibility.
[His hand slips to Dodger's neck, pushing him back as he licks his lips.]
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And anyway, he's busy melting into the kiss, a contented smirk tugging at his lips when that hand slides down to his neck. He's always had this problem with older men; they can do whatever they want to him, and yet they never seem to abuse it the way he likes.]
Did I ever tell you you remind me of my old boss? [He sighs softly.] It's fine... I don't want to follow forever. But we've got the place to ourselves so we could... indulge. For a bit.
[His hands are very subtly sliding under Lester's shirt, as if it isn't obvious enough already what he wants. Everything is a mess, and he wants to be broken.]
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No. You probably shouldn't fuck your boss, for a lot of reasons. [He smirks at the thought, not bothered so much by the comparison. Lester wouldn't hire Dodger for anything but the thing he's currently feeling guilty about, so maybe he'll keep those thoughts to himself.]
You could have started with that. I almost thought you really expected good advice from me. [He runs a thumb over Dodger's lips, stopping at his scar to press his thumb against it.] Now that we're done talking, you should put that mouth to better use.
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