fighting fire with fire

Didn't your mother ever warn you not to play with fire? Ernst Drescher | 34 | Rogue | Phoenix Mimicry

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little lion man // mumford & sons

but it was not your fault but mine and it was your heart on the line i really fucked it up this time didn’t i, my dear? didn’t i, my …

[reganmcauliffe-deactivated20160]

Inhaler || Past-Para || Regan and Ernst

[reganmcauliffe-deactivated20160]

The seconds in between Ernst noticing the present and reacting to it were practically the longest that Regan could ever remember suffering through, but unfortunately the reaction was of the middling kind and didn’t quite take away from that whisper of fear. No matter, he could try to prod at things and turn them the way that he wanted. You fake it until you make it, that was the mantra of Regan’s life, wasn’t it? “Told you that I’ve got no self-control when it comes to you, but s’not always a bad thing.” He said quickly, far more quickly than he would have wanted but being suave was not something he could accomplish when he felt like he was dancing on the edge. Ernst looked a bit shellshocked by the fact that he’d been given a birthday gift, which didn’t take away from how damned beautiful he was, but made Regan want to scramble to cover up any mistakes that he might have made before things turned a wrong way. “Sure, I didn’t have to.” Regan began, reaching over to pick up one of Ernst’s hands in his own and gently trace the lines on his palm. “But I did, because I bloody well wanted to. Not a lot of people worth buying gifts for, in my opinion, but you’re one of them.” Maybe it wasn’t necessary to stare him full in the face, eventually to the point that they were locking eyes and Regan was wondering absently why his eyes were so damned blue, but the gesture rang of sincerity and that was exactly what he needed right now. 

“And there’s not anyone else who’d use these half as well as you neither, so what was I to do? Leave them sitting in that fecking window for all eternity?” That was most definitely bullshit, but he sealed it with a wry little smile as he picked up one of the gloves with his free hand. “They’re fireproof, y’see. Made for pyrokinetics so they don’t go settin’ things on fire by accident when they’re messin’ about or angry or something.” His earlier fear was giving way to childish excitement as he explained the significance of the gift he’d given, though only a little of that showed on his features as he wrapped Ernst’s hand around the glove and set both back down on his lap. “You know, like that time when we were messing about a month back and I had to go shoving you in the shower before you did yourself a mischief.” That they had ended up in the shower together after the flames were extinguished was immaterial, but it hopefully softened the memory a little in the explanation. It didn’t make Regan less antsy about the whole situation, but it did bring a shade of pink to his cheeks that hadn’t been there before and brightened his smile a bit to match. He wanted this to work, he wanted it to be acceptable, even right if he could manage that as well. There wasn’t a solid reason for why other than a surge of emotion in his chest that he couldn’t identify, one that showed up from time to time when he was around Ernst, but even if it was flimsy, it was something.

[withwingsofflames]

          Ernst had read his fair share of narratives which involved the world fading away until only a select few objects continued to live, to breathe. He’d always thought such descriptions were utter foolishness, manifests of a spectacular dull to the senses that simply did not exist in the real world and were only to serve as a way to hook the naive, hopeful souls being exposed to them. Yet here he was, and he could no longer hear the white noise of the television; the world did not shrink like in the flowery bodies of novels necessarily, but his focus was narrowed to the gift in his lap, barely registering Regan’s hasty reassurance that the purchase had been completely one of voluntary desires. When Regan took his hands, the older did not react other than the flash of his eyes to meet the others’; he was not one to gasp, and found himself startled at the breath that was lodged in his throat. Ernst wondered if Regan could sense his panic, if he could see the startling fear tracing the frosty circumfrences of his irises.

          It was difficult to strike the Rogue speechless. Though he was not one to talk more than was strictly necessary in his day-to-day life, unless he deemed his company suitable enough to warrant his time, efforts, and attention (a very limited group of folks), Ernst had no issue with finding the suitable response to someone’s prompting. Yet, for one of the rare times in his life, Ernst could not bring his voice to escape his mouth. Hands lying limply in his lap, fingers cruled around the gloves, he could only listen mutely as Regan avidly explained the present. Joy radiated from his smile, giddiness sifted from his words to dissipate in the air, and the only coherent thought Ernst could form was: No. Don’t be this happy. Not for me. The gift was not only the most thoughtful and generous present he’d received, but also one of the most sincere gestures he had.

                    It was too much.

          He couldn’t do this, didn’t deserve the care and attention Regan was giving him. They were just supposed to be casual. Their relationship was only to constitute a sense of companionship, someone to indulge in nights that would relieve the tension they both experienced from their positions within the Rogues. Ernst had vowed never to let himself become emotionally attached again, not with the way his last relationship had crashed and burned so extraordinarily. But the pressure constricting his chest was a sure enough sign that, despite his intentions, he was in far too deep with the other already. Regardless of whether or not Regan was beginning to feel the same way, this present served as a red flag, bright and alarming as it skirted wildly in the breeze of his panic; he had to put down the brakes before he let them both get carried away even further and he led them to their inevitable destruction when he wouldn’t be able to give the other what he deserved down the road.

          Almost not processing his own actions, Ernst found himself slowly but steadily rising to his feet, thankful his body did not betray him but shaking and hinting at his emotionally turmoiled state. When he spoke, he nearly cursed his voice for doing the exact opposite and wavering. “Regan, I’m afraid...” for one of the first times in his life, he could not meet the gaze of the person whom he was speaking to, “I, uh, I have to go. I’m terribly sorry for this.” He could feel heat prick at the back of his neck and swiftly moved to pull on the gloves out of precaution before he could fuck this up even further by setting the place on fire, moving towards the door as he did so. “Please do not-- please don’t believe this is any fault on your end. I just can’t do this right now.” At last, his eyes met the other’s, a pained expression on his features. He wanted to thank him properly for the gloves, but was ultimately too cowardly and hoped his gaze conveyed his sincerity. His departing words were a murmur before both they and he disappered into the deafening silence of the night.

                    “I’m sorry.”

[reganmcauliffe-deactivated20160]

Inhaler || Past-Para || Regan and Ernst

[reganmcauliffe-deactivated20160]

His heart was pounding in his chest even before he left the room, and he had to force himself to keep grinning at Ernst as he moved towards the door, pausing only to roll his eyes at his snarky little comments. "Jaysus, no. Only time that’s worth watchin’ is when you’ve not slept for three days straight. Best insomnia cure you’ll ever get, promise you that.” Regan retorted, standing half in the doorway and half in the hall on the other side. “I can think of something that’s a hell of a lot more riveting, but he’s busy making jokes about some channel on the telly and I can’t go stripping his clothes off just yet till we’ve seen who’s done this fecking murder.” It was ridiculous, really. He was a thief, a cat burglar, an adrenaline junkie who threw himself off buildings for a living, and here he was smiling lasciviously at the man he had been sleeping with for the past few months to cover up his anxiety, simply because he had bought him a birthday present to make up for missing out on a date he hadn’t known about until it was well past belated. Escaping into the hallway a moment later was a relief, he could practically feel the tension sliding away from his shoulders as easily as his smile had once he was out of sight. He wanted to stand there for a moment and shake off his fear, but he had to keep moving towards his room before Ernst got at all suspicious or the entire surprise would go up in smoke.  

At least he had time to decompress while he stood around the bathroom, the carefully wrapped package sitting on the laundry hamper, and he used it to organize the bottles in the medicine cabinet in some arcane order that only made sense to his garbled mind. It would have been useful if he had been a woman right about now, women stereotypically took longer in the bathroom, he thought as he flushed the empty toilet and ran the tap for a decent amount of time to cover his tracks. But only marginally, because he did have to go back to the living room with the package hidden in his jacket and go through with this seemingly silly romantic gesture. The last time that he had had stage fright this bad, he had been fifteen years old and on his first ‘mission’ for his father’s boss which had involved guarding a truck full of stolen electronics until three in the morning. Actually, he decided as he re-entered the room with what he hoped was a carefree sort of smile on his lips, this was far worse. Pausing would make things more obvious, so he took his seat beside Ernst again with a faint thump and quickly breached the gap between them to kiss him gently as a distraction and a way to fortify himself. “Know it’s late and all, but I got you somethin’ for your birthday.” He said once they had broken apart, reaching into his jacket for the package with its flame colored wrapping paper. “Couldn’t help myself, I saw the bloody things when I was scouting and they seemed like the right sort of thing for you. Don’t go fussin’ about not openin’ this now either, you prat.” Regan started biting at his inner lip about point two seconds after setting the package on Ernst’s lap, and perhaps he was staring as well, but in all honesty, he couldn’t quite help himself in this situation either.

[withwingsofflames]

         “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” he remarked dryly, eyes removing themselves from the annoyingly in-your-face ad on the screen-- marketing that was clearly meant for someone who actually wanted to wear lipstick that was such an alarmingly violent shade of lime green (read: not him)-- to flicker up to meet the other’s (he much preferred the rich hue of Regan’s eyes to the offensive one on the television). Still, there was a faint smile playing at his lips, one that only grew when he heard the thief continue on. “I’m sure I could manage to cease my joking if you wanted to strip me-- but yes,” a dramatic sigh, “I suppose the murderer is infinitely more important than such frivolous activities, you’re right.” His lips purse forward a little in what might have been considered a pout-- if it were anyone besides Ernst, of course. Ernst Drescher did not pout.

         The Rogue busied himself as he waited by seeing how many times he could roll his eyes in a three minute commerical break (many, many times, apparently). While he was not going out of his way to make an attempt to do so, commercialism just had a nifty way of bringing the cynicism out of him. Granted, that wasn't too difficult a task, but marketing these days all but baffled Ernst with how blatantly manipulative it tended to be. A soft humph of satisifcation escaped him when Regan returned; his lips were far more pleasant than the garbage on the screen. The last thing he expected, however, was the package that was gently set in his lap. "You... got me a present," he stated dumbly, staring at it for a few long moments and surely only looking like more of a fool. Presents weren't something he was accustomed to; he hadn't received a present since he was a child and allowed to keep the left over change from the booze run for his troupe. Gingerly, his fingers moved to peel back the wrapping; he was normally so violent, rough, but this required the utmost care. His fingers brushed over smooth fabric as he found himself staring at a pair of gloves unlike any he'd seen before-- was that leather? It had a similar texture but couldn't have been. Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been cheap. "I...” It was difficult to strike him speechless, but there was no other way to describe his state. “You really didn't have to do this."

[reganmcauliffe-deactivated20160]

Inhaler || Past-Para || Regan and Ernst

Thursday, August 31st 2017: 8pm

Of course both of their schedules had been wretched all week, he was exceptionally glad he hadn’t bought Ernst anything that would have required refrigeration or watering because by now it would have long since passed into the great moldy beyond by the time that they both had a night free. It wasn’t anything special, takeout and a night in doing whatever they pleased, but considering how shitty Regan’s own week was and what he had pieced together about Ernst’s own week from text messages, it was something they both needed. Mind you, the fact that he got pinned to the kitchen wall once he sat the takeout carrier on the table and kissed so fiercely that they were both practically wheezing by the time their lips parted for longer than a heartbeat also had something to do with the pall of a job gone awry lifting from his shoulders, but he wasn’t picky. They had settled on the sofa to watch terrible police procedurals and pick them to shreds one badly thought out plot point at a time, Ernst’s arm slung over the back of the sofa, when Regan began to think he might have the nerve to go fetch the present he had hidden in an empty drawer in his wardrobe. Began, but didn’t quite have the gall to, not yet.

For someone that nursed a deep and abiding hatred of being surprised himself, he enjoyed the planning and reaction one got from giving someone he actually gave a damn about a well chosen present more than any thirty-something thief ever should. So the first commercial break didn’t seem right, not even after a pithy comment about someone’s shoelaces being untied in an interrogation scene sent them into peals of laughter and won him a kiss for good measure. He wasn’t afra-okay, maybe he was a little anxious about the whole thing, but you couldn’t not be anxious about any sort of present, let alone a surprise one for a person you’d gotten exceptionally comfortable around in the past several months and who knew quite a lot about how your neighbors felt about loud moaning sounds coming through the walls at 4am on a Sunday night. They had finished a whole episode and had just began another when he decided to pull the oldest trick in the book and just pretend that he needed to use the bathroom even though what he really needed was another drink or a good slap to the face to make him stop acting like a damned wuss. "Don’t go changing the channel or nothing, I’ve got to see if they’ll pull a fast one where the arsehole with the poofy hair’s not done it. I’ll be right back." He said to Ernst as he pulled himself to his feet, wincing internally at the twinge in his knees from sitting so long. "Doubt it, but maybe they’ve gone and shot the writers they had for the last one, yeah?" Too much beer was a great excuse, he reflected as he half-jogged to the bathroom to fake his way through a piss so he could sneak through his bedroom on the way back and grab the present. Nothing suspicious about it at all, just the way that he liked his excuses.

[withwingsofflames]

          It wasn't as though allowing himself to become involved with another person drastically altered Ernst or his state of mind: he still completed his tasks with the same thinly veiled impatience, still generally held people in a light of disdain, as he had before. Smiling was not a more common occurrence, nor were conversations of remarkable length if he still was not interested in the other person involved. But he couldn't deny that Regan had become quite the positive influence in his life. Now, he was able to take out his frustrations in the force of his kiss; he was able to push aside his grievances and replace them with the tangling of limbs in sheets, with the catching of long fingers in dark curls. It wasn't a relationship, but it wasn't just a casual fling, as Ernst never would have engaged himself in such an activity for longer than one night. Maybe that was the beauty of it: it didn't have to be anything, really. Just a rare thing Ernst could actually enjoy being a part of.

          While something as arguably domestic as sitting on Regan's couch and watching television with him might have been alarming to Ernst in the past, he didn't bother giving much thought to the action. It'd been a long week, one which had prevented the two from seeing each other, and at this point he would have been perfectly content watching the other Rogue... oh, he didn't know-- read poetry or something (he'd done it in the past, even if Regan hadn't known Ernst had been watching out of the corner of his eyes). The German's birthday had actually been the previous week, but he hadn't mentioned it until a couple days ago. He'd grown up with the absence of birthday celebrations, so any lack of festivities or presents went unnoticed by him: how could you miss what you'd never had to begin with? Besides, it wasn't like him to celebrate becoming a year closer to death even if he'd had any celebrations in the past. When Ernst felt the absence of weight on the cushion beside him, he snorted a little. "What would I possibly change it to? The gardening network?" His nose wrinkled at the thought. "Though who knows: it might be more riveting than this heinously predictable plot." Nonetheless, he didn't make a move to switch the station, instead sighing as he settled back into the couch a bit more.

[carmen--rivera-blog]

Carmen chuckles rather smugly and stirs her spoon around her mug a few times then lets go, watching it spin around with centrifugal force then slow itself down to a stop. It'll take more than seven minutes and an ability amplifier to catch me. I think what helped, though, was the fact that they're not all accustomed to my face or the other Horsemen's, to be honest. I would suppose a few of them knew every one of us four by visual since they had a task force to come after us - she scoffs and shakes her head - but mostly Death was the only instantly recognizable one. And that's the way it shall stay - the most widely known Horseman in life as their true leader... and the most widely known Horseman in death as the first to die. Ironic. Carmen rubs her temple, taking a long sip of coffee. It's rather sweet, just like she prefers. If we knew how it worked or had some idea, then we would be good to go. Hm. Perhaps I'll go raid the library at some point.

[withwingsofflames]

          Head dipping forward both in acknowledgement and in agreement (he's always been one to save his words if at all possible), he listens to her reasoning. It's logical, and: rather likely given their situation. And it's true: Death certainly had been the most vocal of the Horsemen, letting the opposing factions focus on her in order to remove attention from the others. She'd offered her face to protect the others', taking the most risk on her shoulders like the fierce leader she'd been. It's safe to say that Ernst hasn't spent much of his life mourning, though it's equally safe to say that the little time he has is dedicated to his leader. Do you believe Nexus would allow said information be easily obtainable to the public? His inquiry is not meant to shut down the idea, merely bring up the obstacle. They've kept it under wraps pretty well up until now.

[whitewingednoa]

"Please," she snorted, her marker squeaked against the poster. He was just blowing smoke up her ass. "It doesn’t take talent to draw a mustache." She finally capped the marker and stepped back, admiring her work for a moment. "Really? Those losers? I would have thought they would have been lenient on their security. They shouldn’t have anything to hide right?"

[withwingsofflames]

          "You know," he drawled leisurely with the faintest of theatrical sniffs, "if you keep shooting me down so cruelly like this, you're gonna lose your one and only faithful fan. Then you really won't get anywhere with your secret but clearly avid passions." When she placed the cap back on her marker and stepped back to line at his side, he gestured before them. "See? Stunning." Pressing his lips into a thin line, he shrugged a little. "Just because they shouldn't doesn't mean they don't."

[bloodypiedpiper-blog]

          Oh, that’s out now? Fuckin’ finally. [She squints up to recognize the guy— oh, it’s that one Death liked. Had liked. Still liked? Wherever the fuck she was— The guy’s name. Fuck. Er… Ernest? Ernst? Something like that. She figures she’ll just call him Ernie and see if she ends up on fire. Either way— good luck, running into a Rogue (and one of the better ones, at that).] I’ll see it with you. Bonding time, or something, right? [She doesn’t bother asking permission.] You played any of the games? 

[withwingsofflames]

          Mmm. [He grunts out the sound gruffly, though in a less uninterested tone than his general noises utilized when he doesn't feel like using the energy to respond in full words.] Better to take their time than rush and slaughter the plot. [When she offers-- more declares, really-- to see the film with him, an eyebrow rises but no other acknowledgements are made.] Something, sure. [Really, there could be worse people to whittle his time away with, he supposes.] I've played a few of 'em, nothin' I get terribly invested in though. Have you?

[reganmcauliffe-deactivated20160]

Hell Of A Season || Regan and Ernst || Closed

[reganmcauliffe-deactivated20160]

In truth, he had been wondering just how well Ernst kissed since they stood in the coffee queue together two months past, but even his guesses didn’t quite do justice to the real thing. He supposed he should have expected fieriness out of someone who could shoot flames from their palms and had flirted shamelessly with him for at least three quarters of the time that they had spent together, but honestly, there wasn’t much room for critical thinking once Ernst kissed him back. Even being shoved back against the dingy brick wall lining the alleyway didn’t quite reach his brain, which was too busy dealing with the fact that one of Ernst’s hands was running through his hair and the other snaking under his shirt with (likely) devious intent. Thinking, quite frankly, could go to hell as far as he was concerned, at least for the heated five minutes that felt like five hours that it took for the sound of the sirens coming closer to take precedence. Part of him wanted to ignore them, to let Ernst’s wandering hands wander even further, but the still rational, conscious remnant of his mind that wasn’t consumed with the sandalwood scent of the German’s skin and the touch of his lips pointed out that not only were the sirens getting closer, but they were at most a block away. He parted from the kiss with a resigned, heaving sigh to turn around and glance back at another mouth entirely: that of the alleyway they were so stupidly still standing in. It took him an entire thirty seconds to remember how words worked and string them into a sentence, but he managed by the time that he turned away from the growing din of sirens and back to Ernst.

"Best to get the hell out of here before the pigs show up, sorry. I uh…" Regan began, exceptionally distracted by lingering arousal and annoyed by just how muddy it was making his normally keen mind. "749 96th Street, that’s where you should meet me. Go up the alleyway a ways, don’t go around the front or me neighbor’ll have a fucking fit." He even managed a daffy, probably spectacularly idiotic smile before nodding towards where they had parked their bikes, though it hit him halfway there that he hadn’t considered the possibility that Ernst perhaps wasn’t interested in coming back to his place. Perhaps it was that whole round of tonsil tennis they had just had or perhaps it was the threat of potential arrest echoing down the street, but he decided to add bit of backup for failure when Ernst was picking his own helmet off the seat of his bike. "Only if you want to, of course. You’ll be paid proper by the ladies for helping, but I um…haven’t been snogged half to hell like that for a long time so I mean, you’re welcome to do it again. Very welcome. Yeah." After that stuttering load of shite that had come out of his mouth it seemed better to just put his damned helmet on, and so he did, flashing Ernst another sheepish grin just before he hid his flushed cheeks behind a black plastic shield. It wasn’t until he was three blocks north and settled enough to think now that he was sure he wasn’t going to be arrested that he could really think about what he had just done. If he were a normal person, it would have been the breaking and entering with a dash of arson that would have bothered him, but as someone who had been tangled in some kind of crime since toddlerhood, it was the fact that he had basically just asked Ernst if he’d like to screw him that rattled his nerves. It was fifty shades of stupid, really, he should have known better, but those kisses…well, obviously he wouldn’t have kissed him back like that if he hadn’t wanted to, this whole little worrying spree was ridiculous. You’ve pushed men off of roofs before, you’ve been shot twice, he told himself as he slowed to turn into his alleyway. Just because he hadn’t brought anyone home in three years didn’t mean he’d lost the knack, and if Ernst didn’t show up, well, then he supposed he would just feel like a right idiot for a little while. It was a simple thought to hold onto as he parked his bike, leaning against it once he had settled the kickstand and thus he settled in to wait.

[withwingsofflames]

          To say that Ernst hadn't been tempted to grab Regan and kiss him even that first day they officially became acquainted would have been a lie. Not just a lie, but a blatant one that would have cackled and howled in his face, calling out his bluff. But when he'd laid the flirting on just a tad too thick, Regan had politely expressed he normally didn't turn down this path with people he didn't know all too well-- which, as disappointing as it might have been, was understandable and certainly deserved his respect. So Ernst had tried not to be too forward, tried not to smirk too obviously or let his eyes flicker to the other's lips for too long a period, and he thought he'd done a pretty damn decent job in his eyes. In fact, quite frankly, he was a little surprised he'd managed to keep his hands to himself this long. Of course, that meant when Regan chose to take that leap forward, Ernst was powerless not to reciprocate. Weeks of innuendos and smirks and underlying attraction and want dissolved into the strength of kiss, and he had to admit that this was entirely worth the wait.

          Alas, it seemed that he would have to wait a little longer still, as the pesky wail of sirens was vaguely registering in his mind, growing increasily louder. This was confirmed by Regan breaking off and looking towards the end of the alley, and for a few moments Ernst was grateful he wasn't looking at him to see his flushed face and noticeably dilated pupils, though he wasn't entirely sure if they would have been visible in the dark. With the faint stumble of Regan's words, a leisurely, shark-like grin spread across his lips, and his head bobbed slowly as he made a mental note of the address and specific directions. Ernst began making his way back to his own back when the other began to, and was about to make some deadpan about how he felt like some teenager sneaking in back way to avoid scorn when Regan continued. A dry laugh escaped him-- for once, he was not in this for the money. The idea of him not leaping to take this opportunity was beyond him; hadn't his... reciprocation been evident? He was about to respond, but Regan was already putting his helmet on, and he figured he really had to start following pursuit unless he wanted them both to get caught and tossed in jail. Ernst did manage to dip his head downward before Regan took off, and it was only moments before he was doing the same, though he branched off in the opposite direction for appearance purposes. It then occurred to him that he had never actually told the other that of course he was going to come over. No matter, it would become apparent in only a matter of time.

          Sure enough, about twenty minutes later, the front door slammed shut, Regan pinned against it, and any doubt either of them could have had before shattered with the force.

[carmen--rivera-blog]

Carmen finishes washing off her plate and dries it off with a towel, reaching up on her tiptoes to stack the plate back into the cabinet. Once done with her little chore, she sits down on a stool and waits patiently as Ernst prepares her coffee. A yawn escapes her mouth as she considers an answer to his question. Yes, that was a pain in the ass. She shifts on her seat and props her elbows on the countertop, I'm sure Nexus had agents scanning the crowd for me and any friends I might have brought along during those seven minutes of Heaven; someone I "mingled" with after Mr. Daniels' announcement seemed particularly fidgety. Carmen takes the mug from Ernst and thanks him with a lazy smile, Mm, thank you very much.

[withwingsofflames]

          Ernst nods in response to her thanks, leaving the spoon in her mug just in case some of the sugar didn't dissolve completely. Not a problem. See, he can be a pleasant enough guy when he wants to be. Or maybe he was just too tired not to be. Returning to his coffee pot, he pours himself a second cup-- black, of course, though he decides to splurge just a tad this time by including one Irish cream cup. Seems typical of them to pull some shit like this; I really shouldn't have been surprised in the faintest. He brings his drink to his lips, taking a long sip before continuing. We were fortunate they couldn't detain you during those few minutes.

[whitewingednoa]

While he seemed to be somewhat odd, it wasn’t odd in a dangerous way. At least to Noa. Everyone was odd in Rogue, but she wasn’t getting any serial killer vibe from him. She nodded to his explanation, taking it as the truth and not questioning it one bit, but then shook her head and grinned at his comment. “Shut up,” she told him, turning back to look at him before facing the poster once more. She believed he was just teasing. “May not be as important as your recon, but it keeps me busy.” She laughed at bit, putting the finishing touches on a poster with, what she presumed was just some models or actors pretending to be PROTECT members. “Have you ever even picked anything up there?”

[withwingsofflames]

          With her admonition, Ernst let out a soft huff of laughter, holding his hands out at either side of him with the palms facing her as if to surrender. "Hey, now, I'm only trying to inspire you to seek that career in drawing you're clearly destined for." He watched her continue her work, head tilted to the side before he paused for a brief moment at her inquiry. "Only a name drop or some little detail once in a blue moon-- sometimes I luck out by passing some newcomer, though they've been bulking up on caution recently, I've a feeling."

[reganmcauliffe-deactivated20160]

Hell Of A Season || Regan and Ernst

[reganmcauliffe-deactivated20160]

The sound of a siren, even if it wasn’t headed towards him, was generally enough to make Regan stop dead in his tracks when he was working, and this time was no exception, flaming building or no flaming building. Not enough so that he couldn’t snap out of it a second later, but enough that his voice had gone hoarse when Ernst asked him which way they should go to get out before the fire department showed up. "The window, they’ll be coming the opposite end of the alleyway if they go bothering to come back here at all. Do that flying thing and meet me back at the bikes, yeah?" He said quickly, ignoring that rush of primal fear that came with being in such close proximity to fire. "And get out safe, alright?" It wasn’t safe to do so, not by any means, but he paused for half a heartbeat in the hall to smile nervously at Ernst before he turned to run for the window, squeezing himself out of it with ease and waiting another second that he shouldn’t have to make sure that Ernst followed. An irrational part of him wanted to watch him fly off just to be sure of…well, he wasn’t sure what exactly he needed a reassurance on, but he forced the thought away quickly and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. It was funny how adrenaline could force his mind to recall those shitty movie stunts that he had reviewed before coming out here tonight with absolute clarity, but the bonus of that was that he hardly had the brain capacity to worry about anything but staying in motion. Honestly, he deciding on the roof of the building he had been wasting time on earlier before Ernst showed up, it would almost be worth the trouble of getting used to working with a partner if he could have that beautiful distraction of a well organized fire to keep people off his tail, though that gleeful smile vanished when he remembered just whom he had yet to run into after they started running.

If he hadn’t practically memorized the fire escape earlier he would have broken an ankle with the sheer speed that he descended it this time, a renewed wave of worry washing over him as he went through the motions in the semi-darkness of the alleyway. Too dark for him to see properly at this distance too, that annoyed him even more, and he could practically hear his heart pounding in his ears as his feet hit the ground again. If he hadn’t heard the scuffling footsteps over towards where they had left their bikes and seen his face when he had gotten closer, well, he wasn’t quite sure what he would have done with himself. It was one thing to get himself hurt or captured and quite another to do that to Ernst. "Almost thought you’d gone and gotten yourself jumped for a minute there, jaysus." He said hoarsely, thoughts still buzzing disconnectedly around his mind from all the adrenaline pouring into his veins. A thought made it clearly through that din though, a wild, dangerous one that he wouldn’t have dared run with if he hadn’t been running as high as he was now. "Wouldn’t have gotten to do this either…" He said as he stepped closer, glad of the shadows around them so that any blushing on his part wouldn’t be visible. "That’d have been a hell of a shame." It was as good a time as any to test the solidity of that flirting they’d been doing, by his addled reckoning, and he only had to tilt Ernst’s head ever so slightly with his hand to kiss him full on the lips anyway, so the hint of tongue that he slipped him once he kissed back seemed just as right for the moment as well. He supposed, in the half a second that his brain could actually work after that gesture, that he’d find out eventually.

[withwingsofflames]

          It was rare in which Ernst found himself in situations that required him to run. Or, to be more precise: It was rare in which he found himself in situations where he was running to avoid being caught. Usually, any running he did was when he was already being pursued. "Subtlety," at least when regarding his work, wasn't much in his dictionary. In response to Regan's suggestion to use the window, he simply nodded, before he was given instructions to be safe. Normally, such concern would catch him off guard, cause him to blink dumbly for a beat or two before snapping out of it. But he had no time to spare for delay in overthinking such matters, so he returned the caution in that the other should do the same before watching his fellow Rogue slip out their escape location.

          When he was sure that Regan was safely out, he turned on his heel, and, as he made his way for the window himself, he allowed the flames on his hand to grow to much more signficant volumes, blasting into the room behind him and swallowing what was left into rolling black smoke and immense heat. After ducking under the window ledge himself, he planted one foot on the wall behind him to push off and give him at least a bit of momentum before he vaulted up onto the railings and leaped. There was a second or two of pure free fall before his abilities kicked in and he was propelling through the air.

          It was rare he was given an opportunity to exercise his powers of flight-- especially flight at a significant speed-- but this was why he preferred to save his flight energy. It became of particular good use when faced with emergency situations, especially when he was able to use the more contained fire now in his palm to keep track of his bearings, mind racking back to the path they'd taken to reach their targeted destination. Swooping downwards, he spotted the familiar alleyway and two bikes, his feet needing to pick up the action of running when he landed lest he wish to trip and faceplant the cement. The flame, now distinguished, forced Ernst's eyes to adjust to the darkness, and he was nearly there when Regan (who'd for a couple seconds just looked like a shadow) spoke, causing a wicked beam spread over his features. "Me? Never. Just needed to make sure the job was done."

          He was about to look over his shoulder to check on how badly the building was burning when he heard Regan's voice trail off, and he felt more than saw Regan inch closer, could suddenly feel the rapid inhale and exhale of the other's breath on his skin. And then his heart was pounding in his chest for another reason entirely, as Regan's mouth was on his, and Ernst's reaction was instantaneous in the grasp of the other's hips to both drag him closer still and force them both against the brick wall. His lips parted beneath the other's within nanoseconds, fingers skating everywhere at once: threading through Regan's curls, skirting over the planes of the Rogue's chest, dipping under fabric to brush against bare, already sweaty skin. His entire body burned, felt more on fire than it did when there were physical flames licking upwards from it.

[reganmcauliffe-deactivated20160]

Hell Of A Season || Regan and Ernst

[reganmcauliffe-deactivated20160]

"Yeah sure, and when I go wearing me knees out doing that nonsense I’ll be sure to go reminding myself that it was just for the shits and giggles. Good painkiller, that." He retorted, though he was grinning too wide and his tone of voice was still too light to make it seem like any sort of reprimand. Regan could feel his cheeks go red again at Ernst’s question, because quite frankly, that had something…okay, it had a lot to do with why he was bothering to show off at all. "I wouldn’t have….not really, no. Suppose I better go giving you a good enough show for your time then." He replied, swallowing hard as he turned away and hoping to whatever deity may or may not exist that it wasn’t as painfully obvious to Ernst as it felt right now. There was work to be done, that’s what he needed to remind himself right now, though he could practically feel the other man’s gaze on the back of his neck as he took several steps backwards and took a running jump at the next roof over. If he had really felt like being an asshole about showing off, he would have tried that backflip thing he’d seen in a shitty action movie the other week, but there was a time and a place for potentially fucking up and now was definitely not it.

What he was also hoping was that Ernst wasn’t watching him carefully enough to guess why he had hopped onto the roof instead of just climbing down willy nilly, that he wasn’t double checking for cameras he’d need to disable before he dragged his ‘mission partner’ down there as well. It would be unprofessional, and even worse, exceptionally embarrassing, but his luck held, and there was only one towards the bottom that he had cut the wires to half an hour earlier. It did mean he had to shimmy down the windowsills of the boarded up half of the building, but unless the rats that probably lived behind them had x-ray vision and could call the cops, it wouldn’t be a problem. He got his phone out while he walked close to the outside wall, taking carefully plotted baby steps to avoid making as much noise as possible, and by the time he reached the back door, he had managed to send 'coast clear get yr arse down here' and 'stay towards the left side' to Ernst’s phone. Once he put that away in his jacket pocket, he pulled a ring of lockpicks out of the opposite one, and though there was a part of him that wanted to awe the other man with his less than legal skill set, he set to work on the door lock before fate snuck up and bit him in the ass again.

[withwingsofflames]

          "Mmm, hardly my fault that y'never told me you were wearing your knees out in the process, though I'll be sure to remember to stow that knowledge up here," he tapped his temple lightly, "for future references." Though, if he was being completely honest with himself, it was a fat chance that he would't pass up another opportunity to let Regan show off in front of him again. There was no harm in happening to enjoy spectating the events, regardless of duration, so it essentially was a win-win situation. Or at least he liked to tell himself that. Maybe it was the way their conversation was starting to turn down a familiar pathway that made him push the envelope just a tad further. "All you have to do to give me a good show is be facing away with me in the right pair of jeans, really, though I must admit I quite enjoyed your shindig right there." Regan had turned his back on him anyhow, so Ernst wasn't able to register any reaction, but he didn't even bother in trying to be subtle in his watching as the other ran to leap to the next building.

          Admittedly, the German had been so occupied both with smirking to himself and with making sure he was being in the right spot to even consider why Regan had decided to go to the roof first. Regan was skilled and experienced enough to know what he was doing without Ernst bothering to question him, and all he knew was that he was to wait until he got his next instructions. The time came just moments later, and before he knew it, the two were inside the office, Regan having successfully picked what locks were necessary to access what he was searching for. Upon request, Ernst brought a relatively tame group of flames to his palm and held them to the plug of the air conditioner, causing the wires to spark and worsen the effects. What he hadn't counted on, however, was how quickly he heard sirens wailing in the distance just minutes later, and he cursed under his breath as he glanced out the window. "Scheiße. We gotta go. Don't worry about the papers not burning fast enough; I'll catch them on the way out." Eyes flitting toward the hall, he waited to see if he heard any racing footsteps. "Door or window?"

[aghost-inthelight-deactivated20]

HQ

[aghost-inthelight-deactivated20]

She agreed with his initial assessment, only nodding slightly in response. thought about his logic, and decided she agreed. At his suggestion for her to consider knives she lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Maybe a few long and thin blades that I could hide easily, keep them with me if necessary. It couldn’t hurt, I suppose. I’ll continue my training, though that’s more so if I stumble upon a gun and it’s the best option- at least I’ll know how to use it.” She chimed, more thinking aloud by the end of her comment than speaking to him.

At the mention of poison darts her eyebrows shot up in amusement, but as she thought about chuckling, she found herself nodding along instead - the idea settling in her mind. “Old school. I like it. It’s certainly light and easy to carry around.” She commented, a smirk spreading across her lips. ”Maybe tranquilizer instead, or as well? They have some pretty good stuff available now. Makes taking out bigger targets a hell of a lot easier. I don’t know if I’d need darts, I could probably get close enough to use a needle, but I guess it depends on the target.” She mussed. 

[withwingsofflames]

          When her attention drifted away from him and more to her verbal reasoning, his own halted briefly and turned back to what methods would be best. In an ideal world, for a Rogue in her position, all training would be simply in case of an unexpected situation. But, as he didn't bother to restrict the dry scoff that escaped him and was probably completely odd in their current social context, he knew as well as anyone that the world they were in was far from ideal. "Shorter is better, in this case. Lessens the accident of accidentally knicking or cutting yourself. But thin is most certainly ideal, in this particular case," he conceded, attention returning to her when he no longer heard her thoughtful murmuring.

          He noticed those eyebrows rise, and waited for the dismissing laughter, but instead her head nodded. She liked it. Well, of course she liked it. Ernst Drescher knew his material; he wasn't in his position for no reason. He moved to retrieve a cigarette (he'd be damned if he wasn't allowed to smoke in his own office) as he listened to her suggestion, and this time it was his turn to nod. "Your primary method could be tranquilizer needles, with a small pouch of darts as backup." Not bothering to mess with the show-style flare of snapping his fingers to summon his flame, he simply watched it rise from his index finger to catch on the end. "Easier to use needles, anyhow, but if for some reason your abilities were to... malfunction, it'd be safe to have the darts to avoid needing to be within a close proximity to your target."

[carmen--rivera-blog]

Carmen isn't wasteful - or tries not to be - when she knows that there is always going to be someone who has less than her. Except, she's sure that even people with stomachs trying to gnaw themselves apart wouldn't even find the appeal in her... pancakes. She squints at the plate for a moment then just shrugs and tilts the contents into the trash can. It's not exactly wasteful if it would've probably close to killed someone. Right? Carmen gets to washing the plate - always been a hands-on person, she has, because dishwashers can't be trusted - and casts a glance at Ernst, Coffee sounds like the best option right now. Would you mind - five sugars and five of those, uh, cream cup packet thingies? "Thingies"? She's definitely still a tiny bit drunk. And coffee loaded with sugar isn't going to help, but oh well. Enjoyed the party last night?

[withwingsofflames]

          Slate eyes follow the journey of the pancakes as they go from Famine's plate and fall-- or, more accurately: stick to the plate for a few seconds before gravity triumphs and they flop into the waste basket. He wasn't insinuating that she have to completely vanquish all her efforts, but it's not like he's going to protest the action. It was probably better that she quit while she was ahead, anyhow. An eyebrow rises at her request, and he restrains himself from quipping an inquiry as to whether she'd like any coffee with her cream and sugar. Perhaps if it'd been Death, he might have... he shakes the thought away as he works at preparing Famine's coffee. Death is still no longer here. Oh, yes, it was a blast-- especially the part where the bastards took our abilities away. What fun. Placing the finished drink on the surface, he gently slides it over to the Horsewoman. And you?

[weaverpg]

I, uh, didn’t actually bring a lighter. Didn’t think I was going to wake up today with the idea of saying no to the establishment. [She confesses with a laugh, not admitting that she didn’t own a lighter anyway.] But that’d be one way to do it, nobody could tell us it was ever there. 

[withwingsofflames]

          [Oh, how completely easy it'd be just to bring a few flames to his fingertips, but Ernst knows better than to display his abilities around such a prejudiced area. Not to mention it could give his hand away before he was ready to reveal it. Instead, he withdraws the gold lighter Regan gave him and flicks it on with a wry half-smile.] It'd be just as easy to light the whole place on fire, but that wouldn't be fair to the books. [The lighter is slipped back into his pocket.] Plus, I didn't exactly have "get arrested for arson" on my to-do list today.

[whitewingednoa]

She turned to the voice, not recognizing it immediately, but recognizing who said it once she noticed him. “Oh, it’s just you.” She said before turning back to the poster. While he may have said some things that were a bit too extreme in their last conversation and they didn’t agree on everything, Noa didn’t mind him. He was alright. “What are you doing around here?” She asked, mildly interested especially given that they were near PROTECT. “It’s pretty clear what I’m doing, yeah?”

[withwingsofflames]

          "Yes, just little 'ole me," Ernst echoed, voice level and the faint tinge of amusement not erasing from his features. Normally he wouldn't have wasted his time bothering to stop beside her, especially not if it'd mean he'd have to explain his location-- which, as it turned out, he would. Regardless, she seemed to get along with him just fine, and in return he found her a little more tolerable than others. In response, he glanced down in the direction of the PROTECT building; he wasn't about to go disclosing details of his personal life, so: "Never hurts to pass once in a blue moon to see if I can pick up on anything, regardless of whether or not I'm actually successful." With the second inquiry, his eyes flit back to the poster, and a snort escapes him as he nods. "It is. Remarkable artistry right there, truly."

[withwingsofflames]

Hiatus Form

Semi or Full Hiatus: Full-- I'll be moving to college on Thursday (and still have a fair amount to get done before then), and then I'll be engaged in orientation and the first week of classes, which I'm sure will be a big adjustment. Unfortunately, I doubt I'll have much spare time regarding RP.

Duration: Hopefully just for about a week or two; though, once I return, I'll be back to my current semi-hiatus since I'll have full classes and a job and whatnot.

What Your Characters Will Be Doing During This Time: same as stated in this (semi) hiatus form!