#glaciadaemoniica

[sidestriker]

@glaciadaemoniica / continued.

"Now hold on just a second. I didn't say anything like that."

The lightheartedness in his response would be uncharacteristic if it were aimed at practically anyone else. Andrealphus is different, though, and Striker would only be kidding himself if he pretended he didn't want the damn bird to miss him.

Not that he'll ever admit to hit. Just like he suspects Andrealphus won't ever use straightforward words to say he does.

"Job's goin' fine," he confirms, messing with the cord of the motel's phone idly. Andrealphus is probably having tea right now, he thinks, then mentally kicks himself for knowing his schedule. "It's a long one, I'll tell 'ya that much. Can't get good enough access to the target without makin' myself at home in his circle. Expected as much when I signed up for it, but it's not half as fun as gettin' right to the point."

He'd rather be back at Andrealphus's place, funnily enough. For all he complains about the cold, it's definitely less of a drag than this.

[sidestriker]

"I don't care about winning, I just don't want to lose."

The sentiment draws out a low, throaty chuckle from Striker, who's about a second away from slipping free of his icy prison.

A good fight, for old times' sake. That's what he'd proposed; deadly in nature as they'd been, Striker often finds himself missing the loss of that combat with the shift in their relationship. This one is living up to expectations, even if there is something different about it.

"That so?"

Striker's rattle is the only warning for his sudden outburst, but by the time it sounds the ice has melted enough for him to break it by kicking off the ground and jerking his arms up. It stings like a motherfucker, but there's too much adrenaline. He doesn't really want to kill Andrealphus, not anymore, but the only place that fact has any bearing on the fight is the end of it.

When he wins.

Because Andrealphus clearly hadn't expected him to free himself so easily, he takes the momentum and uses it to pin, the side of his forearm meeting Andrealphus's upper chest as he knocks him to the ground, other hand just as quickly drawing his gun.

The press of the muzzle to his chest is a little teasing. The revolver's just as loaded as it always is, but Striker's finger isn't on the trigger.

"I've gotta say, I'm a little disappointed. You lose your fightin' spirit just 'cause we're friends now?"

Adrenaline still coursing through him, it takes him a few seconds to realize the error in his words. It's the first time, even in private, that he's called Andrealphus a friend.

game changer. / accepting.

[sidestriker]

“It’s hard to hold this much anger in my body.”

He's had a little too much to drink, obviously. If it wasn't clear from the way he's just a little less composed than usual, Striker can tell because there's no way in hell he'd be saying something like this under ordinary circumstances.

"You Goetia and your damn obsession with lookin' perfect."

He leans against the icy wall, thick jacket protecting him from the worst of the cold, and twirls his knife between both his hands---an idle motion to keep him from standing there not knowing what to do. Normally a comment like that would be teasing, but there's more truth to it than usual this time.

Maybe it's because Andrealphus started the personal talk, but he doesn't feel particularly bad about breaking the usual boundary of not discussing the Goetia at large during their meetings.

"I've only gotta keep myself in check for jobs and I can hardly stand it. Not sure how you manage." He refrains from making too-scathing commentary about Andrealphus's situation. He at least knows better than that, now. "Sometimes the shit you say about expectations sounds like much more trouble than it's worth."

game changer. / accepting.

[sidestriker]

staccato. irritated, the sender drums their fingers against you beneath the table. (at SOME point during this mess of development. potentially the stage where they happen to be in the same place in public, having to deal with the same person idk)

He's not really sure how he feels being around Andrealphus like this quite yet.

One one hand, there probably isn't another Goetia he'd be more keen on being spotted with, considering all the shit everyone thinks they get up to anyway. On the other, he's still a Goetia, and Striker is too freshly finished with his admittedly shitty game plan of attempting to assassinate them to not feel a particular sense of self loathing being caught like this.

He's been just another goddamn sellout of an imp ever since he started taking jobs for them, but that doesn't make the reality of the situation much better.

That in mind, both he and Andrealphus are lucky the guy they've found themselves with is heedless of the warning his rattle provides; nor does he seem to realize that Striker's fangs are also bared every time he offers another easygoing grin.

"'Fraid I'm not exactly offerin' out comments to anyone who asks about my situation." The smooth response is accompanied by the usual jittery shake of his tail, the sound of a rattle. It isn't quiet, but only Andrealphus would have been capable of hearing the muted growl that accompanied it.

And hear it he has. Striker barely manages to not startle at the brief feelings of a hand on his forearm. A pacifying touch.

He doesn't say anything about it now, but resolves to as soon as they're in private; then the moment's passed and Andrealphus retracts his hand.

What a goddamn embarrassment.

noir scenes. / accepting.

[sidestriker]

.

Like with most things involving Andrealphus---

"No comment."

[sidestriker]

he's a 10 but somehow the very on fire horse ALWAYS ends up in the house.

"Careful there. It almost sounds like you want me to leave Bombproof out in the cold." Besides, Andrealphus is perfectly capable of keeping his walls un-melted. Probably.

they're a 10, but... / accepting.

[sidestriker]

❛ is that a challenge? ❜

"That depends."

Striker's voice comes out gravelly with exertion---he's not quite short on breath, but it's obvious that he's a little more tired than Andrealphus is. It's fine, obviously; he understands Andrealphus's strengths and weaknesses better than he probably understands his own, and the blue-blooded bird in front of him doesn't do well with pushing past his limits once he starts getting run ragged.

"You feel like risin' to it? Or are your sensibilities just a little too delicate today?" The question comes out mocking, and it's clear from Striker's tone that he doesn't intend for there to be more than one option. He's not going to be the one who stops before one of them is well and truly through. "Come on, birdy."

Knife in hand, Striker doesn't wait to take the opportunity. He knows, despite the airs Andrealphus puts up, that the Goetia is just as ready for it.

"Why don'tcha give me a real fight?!"

rivals! / accepting.

[sidestriker]

❛ hold still. this might sting a little. ❜ (said with as much feigned disinterest as possible, trying aggressively not to make a whole thing out of it idk. what ELSE do you do when your former would-be assassin breaks into your palace already a little hurt & you're a living icepack-maker.)

Striker manages to not give Andrealphus the most affronted look he can possibly muster, but it comes pretty close.

'I don't want you bleeding on my floor' is a better excuse when the floor is carpeted and not made of ice. Besides, though Striker's dexterity isn't anything to laugh at, it wouldn't be the first time his blood has stained the royal halls of this goddamn place. It'd be easier to just lean the offending arm against one of the walls.

"I know what ice feels like," he mutters, but the fact that he keeps himself rooted in place might as well be open acquiescence, from him. "Not sure if you noticed, but you've done a damn fine job gettin' me introduced to it."

Its cold, unfamiliar sting had been painful to his desert-dwelling self the first time he stepped foot in Andrealphus's palace. That had been one of many things he'd blamed for his first downfall over the obvious---that Andrealphus was just too smart for him, and he was too weak to do any real damage without catching one of those birds off guard.

Not that one of those birds hurt him today. That it was another imp stings more than the ice.

"Just get it over with."

rivals! / accepting.