Sᴛᴀʀᴋ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
outofclothes) wrote2013-08-04 08:03 pm
outofclothes) wrote2013-08-04 08:03 pm
||| 001 spam/voice
spam.
[For most people, dying is a big problem. It tends to put a damper on their whole day. For Stark? Well, it's not quite the relief he thought it'd be (and a little more embarrassing than expected; going down to some rogue Sub Rosa was just not what he had in mind for his blaze of glory, but what can you do?), but it was on the to-do list somewhere along the way.]
[It doesn't even really faze Stark much when he finds his surroundings different from what he remembers from his last trip. Hell was on the brink of civil war. New management was always a possibility. He's annoyed, but not that distraught over the lack of his guns and knife. The na'at makes him a little sad, but he can always pick up another here. Weapons are everywhere if you know where to look.]
[And look, he does. Stark doesn't need his hand to be hold or to be told where he is even if this isn't what he was looking forward to. (And yes, he's completely aware of how fucked up that is.) The best he has, once he's on the deck, is that whoever took over the shithole has been watching a little too much Star Trek between organizing an army and overthrowing Lucifer. He hopes they didn't do something equally stupid to the arena or he's going to be pissed.]
[It's at that point, when he's fairly alone, he tries stepping into a shadow. When nothing happens, he's not all that relieved, but he's still not mad.]
voice.
[It's his cabin that makes Stark go from apathetic to not in less than a second. He would've shrugged off and forgiven being pushed off the U.S. Bank Tower compared to this. Stark knew death wasn't going to be a vacation for him, but there are some pretty clear lines that no one should have the balls enough to cross. Then again, there's always morons wherever you go.]
[Stark won't give anyone any satisfaction of an obvious reaction. You never let the other guy know he's under your skin because the second you do that, you've lost. He knows how to turn that part of his brain off and work on pure auto-pilot to close the door behind him, to sit down on the mattress, and start puzzling out the communicator. Luckily he's mastered enough of the ridiculous phone technology to figure it out.]
So, who'd like to take credit for this?
[For most people, dying is a big problem. It tends to put a damper on their whole day. For Stark? Well, it's not quite the relief he thought it'd be (and a little more embarrassing than expected; going down to some rogue Sub Rosa was just not what he had in mind for his blaze of glory, but what can you do?), but it was on the to-do list somewhere along the way.]
[It doesn't even really faze Stark much when he finds his surroundings different from what he remembers from his last trip. Hell was on the brink of civil war. New management was always a possibility. He's annoyed, but not that distraught over the lack of his guns and knife. The na'at makes him a little sad, but he can always pick up another here. Weapons are everywhere if you know where to look.]
[And look, he does. Stark doesn't need his hand to be hold or to be told where he is even if this isn't what he was looking forward to. (And yes, he's completely aware of how fucked up that is.) The best he has, once he's on the deck, is that whoever took over the shithole has been watching a little too much Star Trek between organizing an army and overthrowing Lucifer. He hopes they didn't do something equally stupid to the arena or he's going to be pissed.]
[It's at that point, when he's fairly alone, he tries stepping into a shadow. When nothing happens, he's not all that relieved, but he's still not mad.]
voice.
[It's his cabin that makes Stark go from apathetic to not in less than a second. He would've shrugged off and forgiven being pushed off the U.S. Bank Tower compared to this. Stark knew death wasn't going to be a vacation for him, but there are some pretty clear lines that no one should have the balls enough to cross. Then again, there's always morons wherever you go.]
[Stark won't give anyone any satisfaction of an obvious reaction. You never let the other guy know he's under your skin because the second you do that, you've lost. He knows how to turn that part of his brain off and work on pure auto-pilot to close the door behind him, to sit down on the mattress, and start puzzling out the communicator. Luckily he's mastered enough of the ridiculous phone technology to figure it out.]
So, who'd like to take credit for this?
no subject
I think you'll do well 'ere. This is a place where smart choices are crucial.
no subject
[Normally, he'd just hop a shadow to get up there, but without the Key - or at least it not functioning - he has to take the long, normal way. Which to most people, isn't really all that long, but his point of view on the matter is highly skewed.]
Iris, right?
no subject
Iris Wildthyme. Temporal adventuress, cabaret singer, righter of wrongs, wronger of rights and warden. And you're Stark, your ideas about luck and coincidence intrigue me and I might like to subscribe to your newsletter. Plus our Cassel likes you, so I'm disposed to be your friend already. Welcome aboard, petal.
no subject
[Knowing this is someone Vidocq would like - and given that he's not feeling petulant towards Vidocq today - means Stark won't be a dick. She's also got cigarettes and alcohol to help her case, but that's not the main reason. Honest.]
[He grins.]
Well I guess there's absolutely no need to ask to see your résumé. [He points to the cigarettes.] And not that I'm insecure about my masculinity or anything, but any chance you can set me up with a specific brand in the future?
no subject
Nor me yours either, sweetheart. You've told me everything I need to know. I expect I'll keep watching, on account of I'm the nosiest person I ever met and I like you already, but I reckon we won't 'ave a problem, you and me.
[She lights her own cigarette - a pink one - and blows a meditative smoke ring out into the void.]
'Course I will, love, this is just what I 'ad on hand. Let me know the brand. I'll let you in the pub or the spa whenever and all. Nice change to 'ave a new arrival not go right into rampage mode; it's been a bit too disembowelly for my liking round 'ere just lately. Although there is death bingo to consider, of course. Got any questions Raven and our Cassel didn't cover?
no subject
[Stark doesn't like relying on other people if he can help it and at this point, he can. He managed to get the basics out of them. He knows where he is, he knows who's running the show, and he knows what's expected. Anything more complicated from there, he can work out on his own eventually when the time comes like how to get the hell out of here, things like that. But he's not going to get anywhere close to figuring anything out if he starts breaking necks the moment he turns up. So, he's good with playing nice for now.]
[He fishes out his extremely crumbled pack of Maledictions out of his pocket. He wishes he had been smart enough not to put them in a pocket that'd get most of the pack beyond smoking, but it's a little hard to predict which pocket would be safest in case of a violent death. He tossed most of the pack and kept only the few remaining good ones.]
[Now he pulls three out and swaps them for three of the Sobranies. One he takes for himself to smoke right now, but the last one he leaves in the pack to pass off to Iris. It's a small token of thanks. A ridiculously toxic and strong token of thanks, but hey. It's a cigarette brand from Hell, to be kinda expected.]
You can brag to all your friends you've smoked not only the same brand as Lucifer, but a cigarette that came from the Prince of Darkness himself. I was doing a few jobs for him. Free cigarettes and alcohol were his way of kissing my ass.