||| 001 spam/voice

[outofclothes]

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?

Comments

[surfaceshine]

[Dean nods, pursing his lips out in thought as he tries to decide how to word what he has to say next. This guy seems pretty laid back in his grimness, but Dean is pretty intimately familiar with how quickly that can change, especially around here. Especially with the types that end up inmates around here generally do.]

That means you're an inmate. Congratulations, you'll be happy to know there's no uniform. Unfortunately, it probably means you're gonna spend at least some-a your time pissed off, and I hope you're not the murdery pissed off kind.

Some of 'em are, for the record.

[outofclothes]

[Stark isn't above killing someone who's pissed him off. But his reasons aren't petty. At least, he doesn't considered a murdered girlfriend to be a petty reason to go after someone. Otherwise though, he keeps it it generally impersonal.]

I kill monsters, not assholes who piss me off. [Though the two aren't mutually exclusive.] Besides, I've had shittier days than this. If I'm going on a murderous rampage, it better be for something bigger than this or else I'm just embarrassing myself.

[surfaceshine]

[Dean would consider that a pretty good reason, all told; it's only been his life's quest up until approximately a month ago, after all.

Well. The reasons changed somewhere along the way, but the motivation was always there.

The hunter raises an eyebrow at that.]

We talking metaphorical monsters, there?

[outofclothes]

Oh absolutely. I'm usually after the usual. You know. Drinking. Gambling. Smoking. Sex. Basically anything anyone ever does for fun. Gotta get people ready for Judgment Day after all.

I hear Hell's suffering from severe overcrowding these days.

[Probably why he ended up here.]

[Sarcasm levels are over NINE THOUSAAAAAAND.]

[surfaceshine]

Well, you are the hardest core Bible thumper I have ever met, in that case. And that's saying something.

[Dean's still smiling, reflecting the sarcasm back of course. Because why not.]

I think Hell is suffering, period, full stop. But let's not nitpick the details. What are you?

[outofclothes]

[Stark's smile stays perfectly in place. He naturally does not like questions like that. Especially not lately. He's mostly still trying to work that out himself.]

Little rude to handsy like that on the first date, Dean, don't you think?

[surfaceshine]

[Dean doesn't either, but he's never been one for tact when he's on the scent of blood. Stark doesn't laugh him off, he doesn't look at him strangely, he just evades.

Yahtzee. The hunter shrugs.]

It's been said that I'm a little rude. It just seems like a fair question, given the givens.

[Is this an ally, or another thing for Dean to hunt? He's not even sure, at this point, which he's hoping for.]

[outofclothes]

[Stark decides it's time for some mental math. So, let's see here: the guy carries and obviously doesn't mind a fight. He instantly has to verify whether or not he means real monsters or figurative ones. Now he's like a hound with a scent about just how not human Stark might be. He's asking questions first instead of shooting, but that's not enough for Stark to assume he doesn't just blindly make anything not-human his business forever and frankly, he doesn't need someone looming over his shoulder.]

[That's how people lose an eye or two.]

Judging by the fact that you're asking at all and it's apparently so damn important to you, it's safe enough for me to say that I'm probably on your side.

And that's all you need to know.

[Stark knows he already knows he's not all the way human at the very least. There's no sense in hiding that. But he's not broadcasting that he's nephilim. It's not something that he wants to be. So not saying it somehow magically makes it less true for him and he's good with that.]

[It's also just generally not any of Dean's goddamn business.]

[surfaceshine]

[Oh, Stark is Dean's business, alright; Dean's just not sure which end of it he should be on, not yet, but he makes everyone's business his in the end. He doesn't intend to stop now, not when it's gotten him this far. His smile deepens, getting closer to the bone, closer to what he actually is himself, but still casually complacent.]

Well, color me reassured. Here's the problem though: you're on the inmate side of the fence around here, and while I'm aware that that doesn't always mean as much as people like to make it out to mean, well. It means something.

We just met, so I won't get too handsy, but I will say this: I'm one of the few around here willing to not only ask questions, but listen to the answers when they're given. As surprising as that might be.

[outofclothes]

Well then, I'll say this: you let it mean whatever the hell you want it to mean, pal. It doesn't make a damn bit of difference to me if you want to question my credibility, look at me like I'm shit beneath your shoe, or you want to start waving your dick around about it.

And since your parents clearly didn't set you up with some Hooked on Phonics, I'll spell it out for you so we're clear with each other. Who or what I am are abso-fucking-lutely none of your goddamn business and I sure as fuck do not need to justify or explain myself to you.