@dogdare // joey
[ sms: j 2 ] stay home [ sms: j 2 ] there is no need for you [ sms: j 2 ] and I will be leaving soon
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@dogdare // joey
[ sms: j 2 ] stay home [ sms: j 2 ] there is no need for you [ sms: j 2 ] and I will be leaving soon
@eyeshone // joey // x
"Joey, enough."
He's going to escalate from hysterics to hyperventilating, which will only exacerbate the gash between his ribs and make it more difficult for Dmitri to inspect the burns marring Joey's upper arms, his shoulders.
They're at the warehouse. There is no couch. The workspace that serves as Dmitri's lab is the best he can do. (The desk was too cluttered. It is always too cluttered, if he has anything to say about it.)
"I need to cut your shirt off," he mutters, mostly to himself. He has the impulse to ask for the scissors, but the person who would get them for him is currently trembling on the sterile table. Unnecessarily incensed, Dmitri opens the drawer his damn self.
"And you need to regulate your breathing."
@eyeshone // mysterio asked: [ TXT ] : who is this?
[ sms: M ] You know who
@eyeshone // joey said: [ TXT ] : i have nobody else to ask.
FOR THE RECORD? Dmitri likes it that way. He smiles at his phone.
[ sms: J 2 ] Ask Eddie
@jupiterfree // adrian asked for: [adrian] hooks a finger in the collar of [dmitri]’s clothes and tugs them closer.
IN WASHINGTON, THE KNIFE VIGILANTE HELD TO DMITRI'S THROAT WAS UNDERSTANDABLE. Respectable, even.
This display is more egregious and difficult to forgive. They're in Dmitri's warehouse. His territory. He should have some sort of superiority, here. What he says goes. Vigilante has one chance to disagree. Dmitri will correct him. Afterwards, the only correct option is to submit. Not to grab Dmitri. Not for Vigilante to plead his case.
It feels like he's losing the respect of those around him—respect he'd fought for despite not deserving in the first place—and he doesn't know how to win it back.
Vigilante's suit is durable. Dmitri cannot access any pressure points, and he doubts he could easily dislocate his shoulder. Instead, there's the primal and aggro urge to shove Vigilante, hard, which he follows through on. Whether Vigilante maintains his grip afterwards remains to be seen.
"Did you forget who I am? What I do?" As much as Vigilante might want to cringe at this, he better start listening; Dmitri believes it wholeheartedly: "I am a supervillain. I do bad things."
@apotheotica // slade asked: you have your own m.o., don't you?
DMITRI SMILES A CURT, CURDLING SMILE. The uneasy and uncanny natures of this expression are completely intentional; he is viscerally, obsessively aware of what he is doing with his face at any and all given moments. (Not that it matters much. The mask he dons at the Chameleon intentionally and effectively obscures just about every facial expression possible. And his eyes, well—those could belong to anybody.)
He wishes he possessed the same awareness of what was going on underneath Deathstroke's brutalist get-up. He likes being able to analyze the shifts in people's moods, the things they reveal without even realizing they're doing it.
All these Gothamites, their costumes and their dramatics and their ominousness—it's gotten him a bit testy. Gotten him smiling creepy smiles nobody can see.
"What I have and what I don't have are hardly any of your business." He lowers his gun.
"I'm certainly nothing like you, if that's what you're asking."
@arcticrime said: forgive me. i didn't mean to laugh.
WHAT THE FUCK IS HE, THEN, THIS FAT FUCK HERE, SOME KIND OF JO—
"This is hardly a laughing matter, Cobblepot."
Perhaps due to his Russian nature, Dmitri is immune to the contagious quality sometimes possessed by certain people's laughter. He remains severe—almost gaunt. There is a cut above his eyebrow that will not heal.
He comes to Oswald not as the Gothamite from that morning after the club, but as a could-be-anybody, just-has-one-of-those-faces meaningless motherfucker meant to help him evade detection until he got his audience with the Penguin.
"You screwed me over. You set me up."
@eyeshone // joey
"—I just need a little air."