I'm glad to hear that you think all of this is funny. That little robot is legitimately dangerous, you know.
[That sounds like a very serious text, but the reality is this: Markus knows how ridiculous the whole situation is. He knows how ridiculous he probably looks right now, too.]
Why is it weird? I don't mean it just aesthetically. It just sounds to me like fighting one angry force of nature with another.
[Is forced to take his word for it. His word of LIES.
But there's no response to this text message. Only a moment or two passing, before the door unlocks and allows Noctis in, via a verbal command of Markus' that can't be heard from outside.
He's nowhere to be seen from the cramped entrance hall itself, but wander farther inside, and the revolutionary isn't difficult to spot. He's seated atop the back of the couch, knees drawn up in an almost hilariously casual (and resigned) manner, watching Hellachopper zip back and forth below him, apparently agitated at its inability to reach its target.]
[ Remarkable, honestly. That's the only word for it (besides pitiful, hilarious, sad, photo-worthy, and weirdly endearing).
Noctis's eyes blessedly go southward from Markus all too quickly, cautiously on the lookout as he steps deeper into the apartment after ensuring the door closes. Not like it takes long to spot the man's nemesis, buzzing angrily back and forth as it is. ]
Hey. [ The single word greeting is enough to get Hellachopper's attention, which Noctis anticipates, as Prompto's jacket is immediately balled up and raised high. ] Whoa, look, look-- over here, Hellachopper. See it? Go get it. [ The article of clothing is lobbed towards the kitchen and the death bot predictably reassigns its priorities, ready to dole out destruction to a last-season knock-off ugly jacket and sate itself. ]
[The jacket doesn’t stand a chance once the bot zooms towards it, though it should keep Hellachopper busy for a while yet. The knife slices through the fabric with ease, but there’s plenty of said fabric to be mauled to shreds, and the article of clothing slides this way and that as the angry arena bot’s actuators whir and work in unadulterated fury.
Markus eyes Hellachopper with visible (and warranted!) suspicion before bringing his attentions back to the young man who just saved the state of his ankles.]
…Thank you, Noctis, but I can get down just fine.
[He’s not as utterly useless as this whole comical circumstance might lead one to believe. He can manage to drop down a few feet, planting himself back down on the floor and straightening.]
It’s keeping him distracted that’s becoming the growing issue while Connor’s away.
[ Noctis gives Markus the space he needs, idly examining the predictably clean apartment that looks... well, very little like his own. Tidying things up is such a hassle... ]
Well... he probably needs a friend or a girlfriend or something. Don't you think he's probably lonely?
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no subject
[Confirmation that his ankles are still intact, thank you.]
I can't decide if that sounds like an inelegant solution or not.
[He kind of wishes he could see it, this iteration of Noctis' magic.]
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First of all it looks awesome, I'm not sloppy. But second it being elegant isn't the point, it's just getting it done. You're so weird.
no subject
[That sounds like a very serious text, but the reality is this: Markus knows how ridiculous the whole situation is. He knows how ridiculous he probably looks right now, too.]
Why is it weird? I don't mean it just aesthetically. It just sounds to me like fighting one angry force of nature with another.
no subject
A lot of fighting is like that though. Is that worse than swinging a broadsword at somebody?
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You’d know more about swordplay than me. I thought the point was to hit your target; a blizzard sounds like it would hit the target and then some.
I wish I could see it.
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[ LIES, fucking LIES, he nearly kills his whole team every time ]
Maybe if I get some juice back one day I can show you. Anyway I'm here, can you open the door remotely or w/e?
no subject
But there's no response to this text message. Only a moment or two passing, before the door unlocks and allows Noctis in, via a verbal command of Markus' that can't be heard from outside.
He's nowhere to be seen from the cramped entrance hall itself, but wander farther inside, and the revolutionary isn't difficult to spot. He's seated atop the back of the couch, knees drawn up in an almost hilariously casual (and resigned) manner, watching Hellachopper zip back and forth below him, apparently agitated at its inability to reach its target.]
no subject
Noctis's eyes blessedly go southward from Markus all too quickly, cautiously on the lookout as he steps deeper into the apartment after ensuring the door closes. Not like it takes long to spot the man's nemesis, buzzing angrily back and forth as it is. ]
Hey. [ The single word greeting is enough to get Hellachopper's attention, which Noctis anticipates, as Prompto's jacket is immediately balled up and raised high. ] Whoa, look, look-- over here, Hellachopper. See it? Go get it. [ The article of clothing is lobbed towards the kitchen and the death bot predictably reassigns its priorities, ready to dole out destruction to a last-season knock-off ugly jacket and sate itself. ]
... want a hand getting down?
no subject
Markus eyes Hellachopper with visible (and warranted!) suspicion before bringing his attentions back to the young man who just saved the state of his ankles.]
…Thank you, Noctis, but I can get down just fine.
[He’s not as utterly useless as this whole comical circumstance might lead one to believe. He can manage to drop down a few feet, planting himself back down on the floor and straightening.]
It’s keeping him distracted that’s becoming the growing issue while Connor’s away.
no subject
[ Noctis gives Markus the space he needs, idly examining the predictably clean apartment that looks... well, very little like his own. Tidying things up is such a hassle... ]
Well... he probably needs a friend or a girlfriend or something. Don't you think he's probably lonely?