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@cubxnfury
"Would be a shame if someone were to suddenly grab it." Someone like him at this very moment, for example.
Once again, his warning goes on deaf ears, giving a blind bat with his hand to keep the other away with an angry huff. “Stoddard I swear to whatever god is watching I will kick your ass if you grab my ass again--”
"That's a nice ass you've got there."
Here they go again, Nick unable to stop from rolling his eyes. “Stoddard I swear--”
[Text --> Favourite Cuban]: Did you really manage to shove your gun that far into your pants or are you just happy to see me around again?
Note, coffee really hurts going through the nose.
{Text To: Pain in the Ass}: What the hell Stoddard! Don’t send me stuff like that, you almost killed me with my own coffee!
{Text To: Pain in the Ass}: And it IS my gun, for your information.
At least his efforts hadn’t gone to waste. Hearing that Dawes was finally six feet under was enough to bring a small smile to his face, and it’s the first time he’s done that since the explosion. Recovery was going to take a long time, he’s still sore in a lot of places from burn wounds that were still healing up, and he aches everywhere, but it’s better than dying. Now that Preferred Outcomes was gone - or so he hoped - he could be back to being a spreadsheet guy before too long.
“So much for me calling you a bivalve, what with how expensive they look.” It’s an awful attempt at joking around, but he genuinely appreciates the effort, and he hopes that it shows when he thanks Nick and means it. “-Think I owe you one for them now…the doctors said there shouldn’t be too much permanent damage, except for a few scars.” So much for the good looks and charm, he couldn’t think of anything worse than being permanently scarred on his face, even if the ones there would only be faint.
“Scars huh?” The ex-cop gathers a chair from the room, noting it seems even less comfortable than the average hospital chair, and settles down. “I hear women like scars. Puts some mystery behind a guy.” It was oddly hard to joke, or do something besides the dry humor he and the other had exchanged in the time they had together. To see the able, confidant dealer be so--vulnerable was oddly boggling.
And just set the guilt in Nick’s stomach a little deeper. "Listen Tyson, I have--I’d like--I want...your help with something. When you’ve recovered.” He adds hurriedly at the end, because he knew his request would already piss the other off immensely, to imply it was priority over his recovery was out of the question. As odd as it seemed, he considered Tyson his friend. He considered all of them his friends on some level. You get shot at with them a few times you end up trusting the most unlikely of people. “You’re allowed to say no, because this is going to sound stupid and ridiculous.”
@cubxnfury - continued from this
♉ - Stoddard’s only response is to laugh, going back to his seat to admire his handiwork from a safe distance. ❝ -That’s payback for when you did it to me! ❞
He doesn’t bother tugging on it, instead turning all the growing irritation on his oh so charming partner. “Stoddard, que culo!" Nick can admit he deserves it. Just a little. “I need to do reports!”
"-Is that your devilspawn of a cat over by the window?" Aaaaaaand he's gonna casually handcuff Nick to the desk whilst he's distracted
He can admit it’s stupid falling for such a thing, knowing his sweet, emphasis on sweet, cat was too lazy to wander so far. But the fear is what still gets him, stiffening at the cool touch of metal against his wrist.
“What the--Stoddard!”
♉ - Unfortunately for Nick, ‘needing to get to work’ was exactly why Stoddard was still looking to continue this conversation to start with. ❝ Guess you could say I’m curious. ❞ He’s definitely not going to stop calling him Nickie though. Nor is he going to stop with the teasing. ❝ …God, thought the running thing around here was meant to be that we’re married, right? What’s with turning your back on me like a hurtful husband? ❞
Of course he brings that up, the Cuban unable to stop his eye roll as he turns back to Stoddard, certain his expression says it all. “Spouses usually aren’t interested in one anothers’ previous sex lives.” Or current, in all honesty. “They also are allowed to want some distance, so consider this me saying I want space, my dear husband.” And just like that he turns back to his monitor.
Battlefield Hardline: Locations [4/?] » Santa Rosata
Nicks’ varied ‘done with your shit’ faces.
❛ they’ll only ever use you, it’s all you’re good for. i can give you so much more. ❜
MEME: Antagonize the antagonist
♉ - ❝ After everything you’ve done, you’ve got so much fucking nerve to be coming out with that bullshit. ❞ He wasn’t quite sure what he expected from Mendoza– another bullet to the chest to try and finish the job, perhaps? But he didn’t expect what he heard, and quite frankly it was insulting, as well as enough to ignite his already incredibly short fuse, darkened eyes narrowing as he damn near snarls at his enemy.
❝ Whilst you were locked up in a shitty little cell for three years, I made myself good for a lot of things. I made millions, I killed a lot of people, and I made many more answer to my every beck and call. And now you think you can just come along, all full of your usual ‘delivering justice’ bullshit, and take everything from me? ❞ Stoddard’s voice kept rising until he was shouting the last few words, anger not even covering half of what he felt for Nick right now. ❝ -They didn’t use me because I fucking used them, you could at least do me a favor and get your facts straight if you’re going to try and spout some kind of bullshit to try and win over my loyalty. You don’t deserve it, Nick, you never will! ❞
By this point he’s acting entirely on impulse, moments like this was why he was called the bull. And it’s a nickname Stoddard’s all too happy to live up to right now, drawing his gun before Nick can do the same and aiming right at him, at his chest. Because that’s where he shot Stoddard the last time they met, and he’s going to return the favor if he decides he’s getting bored of trying to make the fucker beg for his life first.
❝ -I was going to drag this out because you deserve to feel all the pain you put me through but y’know what? I don’t know what I want more now– I don’t know if I want you begging for mercy, or if I want you screaming, or if I just want you fucking dead. So go on, Nickie– you think you can give me “so much more”? Tell me what you can give, or I swear to god, I’m going to fucking kill you. ❞
♉ - He’s only an ass because being one is fun. ❝ Nope, you’re an exception– feel honored, Mendoza. ❞ Stoddard’s pretty certain that Dawes regrets making them partners more and more with each passing day, but he’s going to take advantage of the Cuban’s inability to avoid him whilst it lasts. ❝ What’s with the sudden shying away from giving a proper answer anyway? C’mon Nickie, we’re partners. You can trust me with that kinda private shit, y’know? ❞
“Yeah, private shit like what school I went to and my opinion on politics, not my sex life. Which is no ones business but my own, thank you. And stop with the Nickie.” Another huff, turning in his chair in hopes the other will at least understand it’s not a subject to be prodded. He needs to get to work anyway. “Why do you want to know so bad anyway?”
He must look like a sight for sore eyes at the moment, and if he were in any better a condition that’d bother him, he has his own standards to uphold after all. But as it stands, he was lucky to even be breathing at the moment– so he’d rather count his blessings for now, and worry about his appearance when he was actually in any state to do something about it. Funnily enough, he was already halfway to another deep sleep by the time Nick’s voice cuts through the silence, and he’s drugged up enough to decide against feigning ignorance, he wasn’t in too bad a condition anymore.
“Vaguely…” It takes a while for him to adjust to the lighting of the room again, until he’s eventually able to open his eyes and not want to close them to avoid squinting at the brightness. He looks like shit, but it’s better than being six feet under. Speaking of which… “Did you get Dawes?”
Well, it was a comfort to know Tyson was at least okay enough to speak. “Yeah, I got him.” There’s a millisecond where the elders words rang through his head, sending a flash of heat in his stomach from still waning anger. How’s your mother Nick? Bastard. His body was still thrumming from the events, making him jerky when he pulls the thankfully still lush flowers from his jacket. “I uh...I know this is totally cliche but I brought a get well present.”
Ever so delicately he places the flowers on the one avaiable surface in the redone room, letting them rest there as he really studies his companion. God, the fact he lived through that was sheer luck and convenience, but he wasn’t going to complain. Nick had a...request to run by him. Not yet, the words are still swirling in his head as the rush and anger from earlier slowly wanes out of him.
Instead, he rocks on his feet. “So what’s the damage? Anything permanent?”
@notastreetguy
The flowers in his hand suddenly didn’t seem very appropriate, hiding them in his heated jacket as he takes in his surroundings. So this is a black market hospital. It looked like a hospital, but smaller scale. Almost like an elementary school with its multicolored linoleum squares and kid safe doors, dark blue paint bleeding through the attempt at painting it white, trying to make it seem more sterile, more professional.
He did not see himself in this position three years earlier. There was no turning back now however, stepping quietly into the room a man dressed in thankfully clean scrubs pointed him towards. “Hey Tyson, you awake?” Nick tries not to speak too loud, the steady beep of the others’ monitor reminding him underground or not, he was in a hospital, approaching his almost mortally injured colleague. Who’s going to most likely be tired, drugged up and asleep.
[Text --> Mexican Guy]: Eres lindo cuando te enojas. See, told you I was learning Spanish!
{Txt: Pain in Ass} I can’t believe you, I really can’t.
&& it’s at that particular moment that the reality strikes her similar to that of a punch in the gut — first stoddard, && now nick? even from beyond the grave, julian dawes was most likely laughing at her, aware that his legacy was all too existent. her emotions want to take control, yet she can’t find the tears to fall, ( as the majority of them dried up after the instance with carl stoddard. ) but just how could this be occurring once again? a familiar numb sensation begins to proliferate throughout the entirety of her body, making his words all the more painful to process as cobalt hues gaze upon him. this was no longer the nick mendoza she’d once known — this was both a stranger, && a pretender.
‘ — we’ve gone through so much. doesn’t that mean anything to you? ’
“Claire--” of course it meant something to him, it meant everything to him. Why he decided to do this. It was better this way, or he was trying to convince himself that. This way he wouldn’t have to hide, they could get away and he could actually maybe do something with this--
“I’m not going to repeat myself.” There’s frustration licking at his mind, teeth grinding together as he struggles to find words that do what’s on his tongue justice. “I’m doing this for you, for your safety. For the others’ safety. You need to leave, and you need to not look back. Don’t ever come back.”
No matter how much every part of them says otherwise, she needs to be away from him.
♉ - ❝ -Oh I’m so scared Nickie. Fuckin’ shaking in my boots at the thought of payback! ❞ If sarcasm was a tangible thing, it would’ve been dripping off him at that point. ❝ You’ve said it so many times by now, I’ll believe it when I see it, detective. ❞ He takes a seat by his desk at that point, looking as if he was actually going to try and work on some paperwork for all of a second before a thought occurs to him and he turns back to Nick, unable to hide the smirk that was starting to form. ❝ -So you don’t watch porn, you don’t like the idea of one night stands, and you don’t call sex lines…is there anything you do get off on, Mendoza? ❞
God he was an ass. “I’m not even going to go into how that’s a totally inappropriate question for coworkers and just get to the point--none of your business. Do you go around asking everyone about their sex lives?” He’s not very interested in the answer, mostly pointing out the others’ ever juvenile poking at him, and sometimes it seems only him.
