Clive the Leftovers Guy

leftoverseer:

Clive’s mouth twists to the side and looks over Zeke again in consideration. What’s this guy been up to, then. “Ye, you do look different but, honestly, the workers here get 2 hours of guaranteed free time everyday besides showers and sleep. And they’d mostly have their head in the desserts, they ain’t gonna notice much about a guy who looks close enough but just has weird eyes and is a bit pink.” Zeke gives the other Elsen a bit too much credit, the ones who weren’t sweetened up enough to notice where probably too busy wanting to get sweetened up. “Like, it ain’t like you’re planning on robbing the sugar vaults or anything. It’s the cafeteria,” he snorted slightly before turning around and began walking off. “Look,I’m heading there anyway so if you’re jittery about it you can just come with me.” The offer was casual, the guy seemed weird before and he’s still weird but he doesn’t seem like a dangerous sorta weird. At first impression, second impression??, anyway… “Besides. I’m a good guy like that, wouldn’t you say so, Mister Passing-Through?”

“True, I suppose.” Zeke knows what sugar-high elsen are like - hell, he’s had enough of the stuff to feel it himself, a few times - and he has to agree with Clive. They can barely remember their own names.

He almost flinches at the joke about the sugar vaults. Well… Hopefully he won’t have to do that again anytime soon. He catches up to Clive as he walks away.

“Th-that sounds wise. I’ll g-go with you. I think.” It’d probably look a bit less suspicious if he walks in with a native worker. “…Though I d-don’t know if I’d call you ‘good’ just yet,” Zeke says, quirking an eyebrow.

Clive’s grin pulled up as if mirroring Zeke’s eyebrow, the expression nearly looking genuine. He can’t say Zeke was wrong. “Well, you don’t have to, plenty don’t. They usually just call me ‘Clive’ instead.” He looked over briefly while introducing himself, casual in tone and a bit amused at the last quip, but he was expectant. It felt like about time to actually share names, he doesn’t really expect a truthful answer but Clive, personally had no reason to lie. Clive’s an uncommon name in these parts and jars with most popular naming conventions Elsen follow but Clive himself isn’t anything special. If he doesn’t get a name in response at all then Zeke can just stay ‘Mister Passing- Through.’ They were coming up to the Cafeteria now, built like most other buildings in Vesper, large and blocky. There was already a crowd of Elsen single-mindedly pushing through the doors, the Lunch break had just begun for the Factory staff of Area 2 and they were eager, or maybe desperate. Clive reached back, casually, and circled Zeke’s wrist with his fingers, mostly to not loose the guy in the initial throng but also to make sure he didn’t draw undue attention to himself by trying to back out. Clive wasn’t lying when he said most wouldn’t notice that Zeke looked different, but looking different isn’t the only way to start Issues. Someone thinking you’re an obstruction would also do it.

#curiousmotion #clive ic

Hey everyone! I've been pretty inactive for a couple days but I'm working on replies and some blog changes so hang tight and thanks for sticking around

#ooc #clive arts

#clive quickly leaves whistling #nothing to see here #thread complete #tarclaws

leftoverseer

Yep, that’s a definite line right there. Clive may have shit self-preservation but he doesn’t have a legitimate death wish, so faced with a exceptionally pissed off half burnt he fell back on his instincts. His instinct to kick his foot up into the other elsens crotch. Hard. Doesn’t matter what they have, or used to have in this case maybe, he’s a worker with standard issue capped boots that just impacted into the pelvic bone, that should h u r t.

If Clive’s instincts hadn’t kicked in so quickly, things would have gotten messy, Rel would have gone to town tearing him up - instead, they fell to the ground with a surprised and pained screech, landing on their side.

Somehow, despite everywhere else burned having been toughened and virtually unfeelling, being hoofed directly in the crotch was AGONY.

They curled up into a fetal position, teeth grit and eyes screwed shut. Clearly they had no intention of getting up and chasing a certain asshole that may run away. All they could do now was lay there and feel sorry for themselves.

leftoverseer

A muscle in his cheek twitched, the deep feeling of the bruise spiked and his grin pulled up at the side, barring dark gums as well as crooked teeth. “Well,” he borderline laughed, “that must be something you’re actually an authority on right? I mean,” he took a stride forward towards the guard “well, your deal. D'you get like this” he gestured loosely up at down “by being reported?” Clive felt like he was treading a thin line between calling bluffs and provoking them even more. It was probably time to wind down…

Now,Rel had a response for that. Despite burning they were useful which only proved just how much of an asset they were,in some kind of sense. They could have spit that bac and then dragged Clive’s sorry ass to the grinder. Their chest tightened and their teeth grit as rage welled up more and more with each word Clive spoke.

Reasoning and logic were gone.

An animalistic roar tore from Rel’s throat as they charged at Clive, hand drawn back and claws at the ready to end the other elsen’s life should they be given even half the chance.

#tarclaws #rest in rip rel #cw genital trauma??#the douchiest of fighting instincts

Yep, that’s a definite line right there. Clive may have shit self-preservation but he doesn’t have a legitimate death wish, so faced with a exceptionally pissed off half burnt he fell back on his instincts. His instinct to kick his foot up into the other elsens crotch. Hard. Doesn’t matter what they have, or used to have in this case maybe, he’s a worker with standard issue capped boots that just impacted into the pelvic bone, that should h u r t.

leftoverseer:

Clive shrugs casually, part of him feeling unused to talking this amicably to another elsen. “It’s a living,” he could tell Zeke was a skeptic and honestly couldn’t blame the guy, “don’t worry it won’t cost you money.” Okay, so the second hand feelings coming from Zeke were giving him the most amusement he’s felt in weeks, sue him. He doesn’t want the guy too stressed out though, so he continues after a beat. “Like, you get a meal yeah. You have some, much as you want but you leave some. You give what’s left to me and I read it from there. Simple enough.” Yeah, Clive probably wouldn’t believe that either but hey. “If you feel like giving it a go sometime, or you have some free time to spare after all, passing through. You could usually find me at the cafeteria. Gonna guess you know where that is?” Zeke doesn’t look like he’s from Clive’s Vesper but he definitely looks like he could be from another places Vesper.

Zeke listens curiously, though he squints at the last remark. He’s already come to expect jabs and double entendres from Clive. “V-very funny. Yes, I do know where it is.” He lets it slide; in his experience Vesper elsens tend to be more laissez-faire about weight. It’d be a little difficult not to be, in a lot of cases. It was certainly that way back in his home file.

He looks thoughtful. “D-do you honestly think they’d just let me in and take a plate, though? I m-mean, really. Like you said, I d-don’t exactly look native.” He shifts, a little uncomfortably, and breaks eye contact. “I’m, er, a b-bit hard up at the moment, so it’d help, at least.”

Clive’s mouth twists to the side and looks over Zeke again in consideration. What’s this guy been up to, then. “Ye, you do look different but, honestly, the workers here get 2 hours of guaranteed free time everyday besides showers and sleep. And they’d mostly have their head in the desserts, they ain’t gonna notice much about a guy who looks close enough but just has weird eyes and is a bit pink.” Zeke gives the other Elsen a bit too much credit, the ones who weren’t sweetened up enough to notice where probably too busy wanting to get sweetened up. “Like, it ain’t like you’re planning on robbing the sugar vaults or anything. It’s the cafeteria,” he snorted slightly before turning around and began walking off. “Look,I’m heading there anyway so if you’re jittery about it you can just come with me.” The offer was casual, the guy seemed weird before and he’s still weird but he doesn’t seem like a dangerous sorta weird. At first impression, second impression??, anyway… “Besides. I’m a good guy like that, wouldn’t you say so, Mister Passing-Through?”

#curiousmotion

leftoverseer

Clive barely managed to not roll his eyes. “Oh, wow a height crack. Did it hurt to come up witg that one?” He snarked, his hand still lingering on the injured skin on his face.

“And I’m terrified, totally.”

Rel clacked their jaws together, having to force themselves to not head charge Clive. They’d just make it worse for themselves if they barrelled directly into the wall. They did however take a few steps closer, flexing their hands, a low growl rumbling from their throat.

“You must be some kind of faulty elsen if you provoke fights. That should be reported.”

#tarclaws #ok clive stop provoking the half burnt guard #play nice #tho u gotta love elsen with backbones

A muscle in his cheek twitched, the deep feeling of the bruise spiked and his grin pulled up at the side, barring dark gums as well as crooked teeth. “Well,” he borderline laughed, “that must be something you’re actually an authority on right? I mean,” he took a stride forward towards the guard “well, your deal. D'you get like this” he gestured loosely up at down “by being reported?” Clive felt like he was treading a thin line between calling bluffs and provoking them even more. It was probably time to wind down…

leftoverseer:

Clive grinned at the others reaction and half-assedly brought a hand to his mouth to cover the suppressed laughing.

That was beautiful.

“Okay, passing through, could already tell you’re a file hopper. Not gonna lie its pretty obvious.” He said, gesturing casually at his own eyes to in point. “You’re certainly prettier than the lot you tend to get around here, anyway.” Okay, yeah he’s being a asshole. “Though, I wouldn’t worry about any of your Virtues,” Clive smirked, “that ain’t what I was offering. I’m a fortune teller, one with a fairly good satisfaction rate around here.”

Zeke experiences a poorly-maintained kiddie-coaster of emotion: rather short and not terribly dramatic, yet still somewhat jarring.

First comes nervousness. He’s perfectly aware that he doesn’t quite blend in in this file, but it still sets him on edge to hear it stated so plainly. He’s been finding it progressively harder to hide in general; he used to be pleased to be getting taller, but since many files have elsens on the shorter side, it’s getting difficult for him to disappear into a crowd even when things like his eyes don’t give him away.

Then he is, admittedly, a little flustered. “Pretty” is something he hasn’t been called for a long time, and it’s pleasant to hear. Even if he’s not interested. (Not right now, anyway.)

Finally comes relief (he didn’t much feel like trying to talk his way out of that politely) and curiosity. A fortune-teller? He hasn’t encountered any fortune-telling elsens, as far as he can remember. It’s probably bunk, but… He’s not about to turn down even the smallest possible chance of an advantage. “Ff-fortune-telling? Sounds… Interesting. Hh-how’s it work?”

#he wasnt intending that to come out like a weight crack but #curiousmotion

Clive shrugs casually, part of him feeling unused to talking this amicably to another elsen. “It’s a living,” he could tell Zeke was a skeptic and honestly couldn’t blame the guy, “don’t worry it won’t cost you money.” Okay, so the second hand feelings coming from Zeke were giving him the most amusement he’s felt in weeks, sue him. He doesn’t want the guy too stressed out though, so he continues after a beat. “Like, you get a meal yeah. You have some, much as you want but you leave some. You give what’s left to me and I read it from there. Simple enough.” Yeah, Clive probably wouldn’t believe that either but hey. “If you feel like giving it a go sometime, or you have some free time to spare after all, passing through. You could usually find me at the cafeteria. Gonna guess you know where that is?” Zeke doesn’t look like he’s from Clive’s Vesper but he definitely looks like he could be from another places Vesper.

@leftoverseer:

Something in Clive, when he woke up this morning tense from the recent never ending stream of bullshit mixed with a near complete lack of anything interesting, had him looking at this partially burn, feral looking guard and thinking: Yeah, you’ll do.

Clive cleared his throat before playing coy. “Oh, I’m sorry would you rather I went ‘greetings and salutations on this fine day we have upon us, pray tell what have you been up to’,” he looked Rel straight in the eye before he finished, “Fuckhands”

As if Clive’s sarcastic spiel wasn’t enough to annoy Rel, he just had to be that asshole. Their hands curled into fists, and before they even registered what they’d done, they swung their fist directly at Clive, aiming to ciock him n the jaw.

Thankfully, not at full power - they weren’t trying to kill the guy.

Clive hit the wall hard, having turned around just enough that he avoided a broken jaw or missing teeth but the force of the punch scratching into his cheek was enough to knock him off balance.

He felt like he’d been stuck in a hot room and finally a window had been cracked open. Maybe its odd to feel better after being punched? Fuck it, he ain’t about to think too hard on that, thank you very much.

“I’m kinda disappointed, I’ve been hit harder by a drunk asshole at game night.” He smirked up at Rel, rubbing the back of his hand over the quickly forming black bruise. “You’re being downgraded from Fuckhands.”

Rel watched Clive hit the wall,for a second concerned they’d lashed out and killed the guy. It didn’t take long until they decided they hadn’t hit him hard enough.

“You want to die?” They snapped, hunching their shoulders and baring their teeth. It was taking altogether too much energy to not just wail on this douchebag. They figured Clive was doing this on purpose, and Rel could only wonder why.

“Call me that again and I wont hold back, half pint.”

Clive barely managed to not roll his eyes. “Oh, wow a height crack. Did it hurt to come up with that one?” He snarked, his hand still lingering on the injured skin on his face.

“And I’m terrified, totally.”

#tarclaws

@leftoverseer:

Something in Clive, when he woke up this morning tense from the recent never ending stream of bullshit mixed with a near complete lack of anything interesting, had him looking at this partially burn, feral looking guard and thinking: Yeah, you’ll do.

Clive cleared his throat before playing coy. “Oh, I’m sorry would you rather I went ‘greetings and salutations on this fine day we have upon us, pray tell what have you been up to’,” he looked Rel straight in the eye before he finished, “Fuckhands”

As if Clive’s sarcastic spiel wasn’t enough to annoy Rel, he just had to be that asshole. Their hands curled into fists, and before they even registered what they’d done, they swung their fist directly at Clive, aiming to ciock him n the jaw.

Thankfully, not at full power - they weren’t trying to kill the guy.

Clive hit the wall hard, having turned around just enough that he avoided a broken jaw or missing teeth but the force of the punch scratching into his cheek was enough to knock him off balance.

He felt like he’d been stuck in a hot room and finally a window had been cracked open. Maybe its odd to feel better after being punched? Fuck it, he ain’t about to think too hard on that, thank you very much.

“I’m kinda disappointed, I’ve been hit harder by a drunk asshole at game night.” He smirked up at Rel, rubbing the back of his hand over the quickly forming black bruise. “You’re being downgraded from Fuckhands.”

@leftoverseer

Clive shrugs, casually.“Eh, that’s fair. You can’t say elsen don’t tend to look kinda samey,” of course that doesn’t exactly explain why the guy seems tense. Maybe it’s the eyes? Some hoppers can find them a bit alarming at first. Or maybe he just thinks Clive looks like an asshole. “I work round here,” unfortunately, “you a tourist? If that’s the case I don’t mind being an attraction if you got time to spare".

“Erm.” Turning bright red, Zeke flounders for a response. He’s no stranger to being propositioned, but not quite so forwardly, and certainly not so suddenly. Is this elsen just unusually forthright but sincere? Is he looking to peddle… “Services”? Is Zeke barking up entirely the wrong tree? It’s hard to tell. He decides to play it relatively safe and completely ignore it. That’ll definitely work fine. “I’m, ah, n-not exactly a t-tourist. Just, er, p-passing through, y-you know.”

#u tend to get good ratings if theres no other competition #curiousmotion #ic clive

Clive grinned at the others reaction and half-assedly brought a hand to his mouth to cover the suppressed laughing.

That was beautiful.

“Okay, passing through, could already tell you’re a file hopper. Not gonna lie its pretty obvious.” He said, gesturing casually at his own eyes to in point. “You’re certainly prettier than the lot you tend to get around here, anyway.” Okay, yeah he’s being a asshole. “Though, I wouldn’t worry about any of your Virtues,” Clive smirked, “that ain’t what I was offering. I’m a fortune teller, one with a fairly good satisfaction rate around here.”

Sup Fuckhands

“Say that again, I dare you.”

#asking for it #this is what we in the business call #clive: hmmm i havent been self destructive lately #ic clive #tarclaws

Something in Clive, when he woke up this morning tense from the recent never ending stream of bullshit mixed with a near complete lack of anything interesting, had him looking at this partially burnt, feral looking guard and thinking: Yeah, you’ll do.

Clive cleared his throat before playing coy. “Oh, I’m sorry would you rather I went ‘greetings and salutations on this fine day we have upon us, pray tell what have you been up to’,” he looked Rel straight in the eye before he finished, “Fuckhands”

((Hey! I’m Louse and this is an rp blog for my OFF elsen oc, Rel!. Could you reblog if you’d be town for interacting with them? They have a full ref and about here ! Thanks in advance!))

Hey, you look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere, or d'you just have that kinda face?

Oh, Queen, it’s that elsen he’d first gotten that wanted poster from all that time ago. And that he bit the finger of that one time, too, so he’d kind of have a motive to turn him in, albeit a petty one (after all, he deserved the bite). Zeke tries to act natural.

“A-ah, I m-m-must do, I, um, d-d-don’t believe we’ve m-met?”

Nailed it.