#interactions.gilbert

[sshibalx]

A Spoonful of Rot Helps the Truth Serum Go Down || THE EXPERIMENT ROOM.

@thegillionaire

being captured is a load of bullshit. taken prisoner sucks ass. asking for his sister was FUCKING JUSTIFIED as he KNEW she was somewhere close. talking back to SHITTY guards was natural to him. additionally questioning authority wasn’t strange for him given the FUCKWIT SHACKLES. the CURRENT torture was obviously the result of his SHIT BEHAVIOR. HE GOT THAT MUCH. But if they’d just let him see his GOD DAMN sister, he’d stop. 

and YEAH, torturing others, Han had to agree was fucking FUN. and while, he’d only dabbled in a bit in the masochistic tendencies ONCE before with a vampire feeding on his neck, he’d never, ever hated being tied down more. he hadn’t gritted his teeth any harder and you’d think he hadn’t ever wished death upon anyone before with a set of eyes sending daggers into that dove’s mask as he was reeled into the same damn room as one half of TEAM CROCKET. 

han noticed the voice almost instantly, and it seemed as if GIL had been talking for a while now. muttering his grievances that intense stare down he held with the dove was INSTANTLY replaced with a set of pleading eyes. 

“No. Nonononono. NO. FUCK NO. TAKE ME BACK. CUT ME UP.  FINISH YOUR EXPERIMENTS. TAKE ME BACK TO THE OTHER ROOM. ”

any attempts at thrashing about were obstructed by the restraints on the chair. the dove to his right--the one who’d reeled him in, finished setting the IV into the inside of his elbow, patted down Han’s hair, and continued on his way.

“DON’T LEAVE ME WITH THE CLOWN.”

he was soon realizing the cell with the two civilians was far better than this one.  “Don’t tell me this is my new cell. Please don’t tell me this is our new cell. I’m sorry for fighting back. I’m sorry for admitting to killing everyone. I’ve never said sorry before in my life. I SWEAR.” he whined a very distraught whine as he took his first full breath from his cries.  “I SAID I’M SORRY. TAKE ME BACK. This can’t be my punishment. I TAKE TORTURE OVER GILBERT. PLEASE”

he tossed a quick look over to Gilbert  “Do you think they can hear me?” the obvious exhaustion of the day and shock of his wounds finally settling into his system. 

[sshibalx]

it was a peculiar time to have lunch. the neon sign out in the parking lot was the only glow to the night sky. the stars hidden or rather choosing to not grace the earth with their presence. it didn’t matter.  Han, even still felt like he’d be waiting forever for––

@thegillionaire || 🍔 Captain Mold and Compostaboy rendezvous at Denny’s

the sounds of toon blast© low on the cellular tracphone© that was given to him for the planning of the takedown of those who’d done each of them wrong.

there was a laundry list of names to be scratched off. there was speculation to the accuracy of names. there wasn’t a care in the world for that accuracy, as Han was ready to put a knife in someone’s anyone’s back.  the celebratory dings and whistles emanated from the phone as he’d reached yet another level 795 being the highest he’d achieve in such a short amount of times.

bored and under-challenged he exited the app, to draft the text message, a bit of a snarky and impatient, “I should have started holding my breath to be out of this eternal misery. This is why I rely on no one. You’re only proving my point to not trust others. Maybe I was foolish to consider you a friend.”

a tad bit dramatic, but not as dramatic as the bangs that fell from his face nor the scars that were still placed together by bandages and Simon Muhn’s care. the bleach blonde caused even more discomfort as a waitress brought over two menus for him and his— what appeared to be an imaginary friend. he tried to ask himself, was it suspicious?-- the scowl he wore. was it contradictory to the bright golf shorts he was wearing? did he stick out like a sore thumb? because it sure felt like he did. he felt like all eyes were on him in that empty corner of the cafe.

he scanned the menu, “A Mandela effect?” he snorted, “There is a severe lack of clown pancakes on this menu.” eyes shot up to finally meet the other he’d spent some time with at the compound.

“I’ve been thwarted yet again.” a set of raised eyebrows as he repeated the other’s last words-- or what he thought would be the other’s last words, “Aw, pinenuts.” 

the friendly smile, however hard keep from his lips. “How are you Gilbert?”

[sshibalx]

one half of the mold fold, with his black ball cap pulled over his eyes, leaned against that vending machine lazily as he pulled that trackphone© out of his jacket pocket. the sounds of ToonBlast© immediately filled the air, though it wasn't time to spiral into a quick round. he was waiting for––

@thegillionaire​ || mission 001: SNART AND RORY TAKE THE LAUNDROMAT [aka let’s snatch these identities fam]

it was the perfect cover-- he was the current undesignated guardian of snacks, waiting on his laundry to dry. for an added bonus there was actually a set of laundry he had switched over for an unsuspecting customer in their absence, congrats, and just in case there were any doubters in that building.  there was no such thing as too cautious anymore. though that idea did conflict with the current mission at hand. argumentative, and with a clenched fist, Han was apprehensive in joining Gilbert for something as simple as identity retrievals. in the past, secret identities were already supplied in a folder, the end no question about it.

but in this case, it was for the entire Syndicate. he supposed Gil needed help carrying a damn briefcase or binder. nothing says camaraderie like joining your favorite torture buddy down the rabbit hole of the black market to gather false documents and the like for wanted mutants of the Sector of Humanity. it wasn't the result he craved, but it was a step in the direction to finding those asshats who flipped his world upside down. footsteps approached, and he tilted his head to the side to address the man. he groaned out his complaint.

"Can we please make this quick?" not that he had anywhere to be, in fact, his willingness to complete said mission was out of sheer boredom from being confined to such a small temporary living space with two people who either wanted to murder each other or make out and Rowan. the only other option he had at his disposal was bothering Min, which would lead him to lay on a leather couch staring at an aquarium while classical music played in the background. 

"My patience for idiots has run dry lately, you understand." he sighed, a twinge of spite in his words, as Gil was still not completely forgiven for his refrigerator heists. "We'll have to empty this shit machine of Cheetos or I may die of starvation or has the Grocery Goblin retired for mission night?  OR does he apologize while treating his wonderful friend to moldy pancakes after all this?"