OPEN

[likewhatilike]

Who| Mickey Milkovich, OPEN
What| Oh god is someone not happy about being here
Where| Lounge, Training Center
When| Sunday evening
Warnings/Notes| swearing and anger issues


Lounge
Mickey is cleaner now than he probably has been in months. The anger from being grabbed and scrubbed clean still hasn't abated and, really, he's driving himself crazy. This all seems way too complicated to be something his father cooked up for punishment and Mickey thinks he's been punished enough but who knows when Terry will leave him be, if ever. But this place is driving him mad, everything is too shiny and new and clean. He doesn't need to look out the window to figure out that he's not in Chicago anymore, not even Northside, this is some place much nicer. He hates it.

He automatically cases the place, locating doors and windows, figuring out exit strategies or what piece of furniture would be best to duck behind if a gun fight broke out. And damn does he feel naked without a gun and knife somewhere on his person. He's not defenseless, god no, he fight just as well with his hands but it's nothing like the security of a gun.

The best he can do is find something heavy to hold on to, blunt force trauma would work just as well as a gunshot when everything was said and done. He doesn't know what it is he picked up, some stone thing probably worth more than his life, but it'll do.

He makes his way out of the room slowly and finds himself in some sort of lounge. There are other people mulling around and instead of jumping in and causing a scene like he would usually do he decides to side step in, lean against the wall, and watch.

He wipes his thumb against his bottom lip, a cigarette would be great right about now.


Training Center
Eventually he makes his way to the training center. After a quick look around where he realizes there are no guns around for him to nick he heads towards the knives. He picks one up and feels its weight in his hand, it's not the type of knife he usually keeps on him but it'll do just fine. As a test he throws the knife at one of the set targets, it doesn't hit where he wants it to. With that placement it would slow down and enemy but not kill, the target wasn't even fucking moving. That wouldn't do.

He picks up another knife and tries again.

Comments

lounge

[mediumdrip]

"Are you new?" Blaine asked curiously when he came in and saw a man leaning against the wall. He had never seen this face before and assumed that the guy might be new.

[likewhatilike]

Blaine's assumptions are correct! What he's not correct in though is assuming that Mickey wants to talk to anyone. He spares a glance at Blaine and just grunts in reply.

Mickey Milkovich: master of communication.

[mediumdrip]

Blaine was quiet for a moment and then adds, "Do you have any questions? I know they don't really explain things when you arrive."

[likewhatilike]

"Fine," he snaps at him, "you want to play fucking tour guide? Where the hell am I and how can I get back to Chicago?"

Jesus, why do people insist on talking to him?

[mediumdrip]

Blaine blinked once and then shook his head. "You can't. You're hundreds of years in the future. There is no Chicago here." He still said it in a tone that wasn't confrontational. He didn't want to give the new guy the wrong impression.

[likewhatilike]

He refuses to believe that because one it sounds absolutely ridiculous and two there's no way Chicago would disappear because that's what he wants and nothing he wants ever happens. "Yeah, bullshit. I don't know what crap drugs you've been taken but there's no fucking way," and oh yes, he's being confrontational.

[mediumdrip]

"I'm sorry. I know it sounds crazy, but have you looked around? Does the technology here look familiar?"

[likewhatilike]

Mickey smirks at Blaine, this would be too easy. Blaine looks like one of those people who grew up with money. Maybe he's one of those guilty rich people.

"Do I look like I can afford any technology?"

At the moment he maybe does, he sure has been cleaned up since he got here. Actually, he's not sure he's ever had clean skin and clean clothes at the same time, it's fucking weird.

[mediumdrip]

Blaine looks him over. "You look like a Tribute," Blaine said. "As far as what any of us can afford. That doesn't mean you won't be able to look at the TVs or computers here and notice they're not what you have back home."

[likewhatilike]

He shrugs, "so it's nicer shit than anything I've seen, that ain't exactly hard."

Really Mickey is just an expert at blocking everything out. If he doesn't want to see it, he won't, if he doesn't want to acknowledge it, he won't. That isn't to say he can't or doesn't see it, it's just so much easier to live in denial. Don't you think?

But his face is still set in an annoyed scowl, it may be difficult to read the hesitance it's trying to block out, but it's definitely there.

[mediumdrip]

"Look, I know this is a lot to take in, but it's true. Once you accept that, you can move onto protecting yourself."

[likewhatilike]

"I'm always protecting myself, don't matter where the fuck I am."

[mediumdrip]

"Which is admirable. It's easier to do that if you have all of the facts, isn't it?"

[likewhatilike]

"And what facts are those?"

[mediumdrip]

"That you're in a crazy version of the future and you'll have to fight when the next Arena comes along."

[likewhatilike]

Oddly enough (or maybe not) he perks up at the word fight. That's something he knows how to do, it's not like he hasn't participated in fight clubs before.

"Fight?" he shrugs casually, "sure, I can do that."

[mediumdrip]

"Then you'll do okay," Blaine offers. He wasn't sure if he should keep talking to someone who was so 'ready' to get to the Arena, but he could handle it for now. At least he didn't seem giddy about the idea, just confident. Confidence wasn't a bad trait.

[likewhatilike]

"You're a bit of a pussy," he says conversationally, "aren't you?"

[mediumdrip]

Blaine's brow rose a bit. "That's a bit much, isn't it? I mean, I'm trying to help you. I guess I'll leave you, though, if you'd rather find things out yourself."

[likewhatilike]

Mickey starts looking for a cigarette even though he knows he doesn't have one on him at the moment.

He smirks, "it's not the worst thing I coulda called you, you got lucky. But remember this, I don't need any fucking help." He looks Blaine up and down not exactly his type, "specially from someone like you."

[mediumdrip]

"Someone like me?" Blaine asked, taking that to mean something that made him feel irritated in a deeply scarred sort of way.

[likewhatilike]

He rocks on the balls of his feet, "do I gotta spell it out for you?" he snaps.

"You're fucking queer."

[mediumdrip]

Blaine's eyes narrowed at that. "So what if I am?" he asked. "It's not like your my type so you don't have to worry about me hitting on you."

I just. I'm sorry for him. /face in hands

[likewhatilike]

"Hit on me and I'll bash you're fucking face in."

Remember that time Mickey was a complete asshole? It hasn't passed yet.

Although, part of him wonders what Ian (his not!boyfriend) would do if someone flirted with Mickey and he flirted back. Not that it would ever happen. Besides, no matter how unexclusive they were Mickey wasn't fucking around with any other guys.

<33

[mediumdrip]

"Like I said. You're not my type," he countered angrily. "Good luck in the Arena. You're going to need it if that's the way you try to win people over."

He seemed utterly disgusted by Mickey and rather than continue this he turned to leave him, pissed off but not enough to make an even bigger scene.