“Hey, this fat-ass is the one thing keepin’ you from lookin’ like you went two rounds with the Hulk.” These days, Jimmy’s learned to never question how they end up in the situations they do - one way or another, through the job description or a secondary mutation for attracting danger, there’s always some mishap or multiverse-wide apocalypse on the horizon - so it’s best to just buckle up and take things as they come, for better or worse.
Paying little mind to the grotesque burns and wounds corrupting the flesh of his back, the dauntless leader marched ever onward with his companion in tow, bemused to note that, despite having nearly ended up a douchebag-flavoured skewer, Francis retained his award-winning sense of humour.
“How you holdin’ up, Kettle?” quipped the intrepid youth, helpless but to play along with the established gag. A firm hand accompanied the break of silence, grasping just beneath Francis’ chest cavity to support his broken ribs, for he wouldn’t be able to so effortlessly shrug off liquefied organs any time soon. “If we make it to cover, I’ll be able to take these goons out and buy us some time, but you gotta work with me, alright, birdie?”
“been there, done that ” alright, technically it had been ONE round with the Hulk, and technically Pym had been the one getting his rear royally kicked primarily but tomatoes, tomah-toes. part of his brain still tried to puzzle together ANY reason as to why this was happening to them; in a universe that, again, wasn’t their own. 555326 seemed almost PEACEFUL, now that Ultron was gone compared to this shit at least. how did those terrible punk-pop lyrics go? I’m just a kid and life is a nightmare?
“aaah well, y’know been worse.” followed by a sharp inhale through his teeth, the moment he felt his ribs SHIFT under Jimmy’s touch. it was safe, he knew; better this way probably, but goddamn he’d give his left kidney just for SOME of his pal’s healing factor right now. joke on the mutation then, cause the kidney would probably just grow right back or something. however it worked. and Francis huffed a pained laugh. “aw, lookit. the skunk wants to go with cutesy nicknames.” nose scrunched up lightly for a second. “nah sorry, WRONG rodent.” pretty sure his brain’s pain-handling mechanism weren’t entirely healthy.
“if we make it to cover and I don’t have half my lung hangin’ out by the time, I’m buyin’ you a drink.” they were saving the world right now, they didn’t need ID. “hate to say it, but we’re gonna need BACKUP, ‘n we’re gonna need it soon. I should be able to fire a little more, but those guys look pretty keen on testin’ just how immortal you REALLY are.”
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