milliways_bar | (no subject)

Wilson's first thought is that the bar is on fire. His second thought is that Maxwell is coming after him with a vengeance, fond of appearing in a puff of smoke as he is. Both of these contribute to the fact that as the smoke forms into a humanoid shape Wilson whips out an ice staff and points the blue crystal that forms the business end at the spectre.

Wait, that's not Maxwell.

(No, he wasn't carrying a four-foot-long wooden staff beforehand, nor was there anywhere in his clothing he could have hidden one.)

Reaper, originally expecting a combat situation when he reformed, suddenly finds himself headed towards one. He reacts to the threat by drawing his own weapons, a twin pair of black and silver rectangular shaped guns, double-barreled, and both pointed at Wilson.

They didn't come from an obvious holster either.

He nearly discharges one but stops because Milliways (with all its associated fuckery) and two, magic might actually hurt him if the guy managed to get it off. The trigger's getting pulled the moment he sees a glint of energy but for now he waits, mask tilted down at the smaller man.

That is an awful lot of gun to have pointed squarely towards him. Definitely a lot deadlier-looking than MacTusk's blowgun, which makes up most of his experience of getting shot at. Wilson frankly looks terrified.

"Sorry, I thought you were someone else," he babbles as he puts the ice staff away behind his back and holds up his now-empty hands.

That's better. Reaper casually drops his guns and they hit the floor with a heavy clunk. He steps forward past them, trench coat flaring.

"You're not the first." There's a hint of annoyance in the growl. "I didn't think this mask was that common."

The weapons are no longer on the ground once his coat stops moving.

"It's not the mask, it's because you were all smoke-y," Wilson says, watching the guns fall to the floor with considerable relief followed by considerable puzzlement. Doesn't he want them back? He looks back at the sinister masked man, and the guns have disappeared by the time he takes another glance at them. Well, that's weird.

On closer inspection, they aren't completely gone; a ribbon of smoke flows from the spot where the guns were into the scary guy's coat. It reminds him of some of the things orange gems can do down in the ancient ruins.

Edited 2019-09-04 09:31 (UTC)

He grunts, conceding the point.

"I'll give you wraithing is a common concept."

Even on his world that's not unique to him.

"I also thought you might be on fire, but I guess not," says Wilson.

Ice magic is multifunctional like that.

"So can you get back in there, or do you need an electric fan or something?"

Reaper crosses his arms, mask tilting slightly at Wilson for a long moment before he turns to look up at the vent.

"It looks like it's still open." He turns back. "Though I've found it's not a good idea to rush Milliway's visits."

He hasn't answered Wilson's question.

What's he looking at him like that for? It's unnerving. Did Wilson say something stupid enough to make mask-guy regret not shooting him?

He does notice the non-answer, but feels like it'd be pushing his luck too much to keep prying when nothing in particular is riding on finding out. "If you say so. I've never been in a vent."

"What happens if you just turn around and leave? Does the door shut in your face or something?" Wilson's never tried it, since this is a better place to rest and resupply than anywhere in his world.

"Past experience says I'm more likely to be Bound."

He turns to face Wilson again, tipping his chin down slightly. There's an amused lilt to his growl when he speaks next.

"And that's just not healthy for anyone since Bar doesn't have souls on the menu."

"There's no way you eat souls, that's a scientific impossibility," Wilson scoffs, with completely misplaced certainty. Whether or not souls exist, or are edible, it sure sounds like the scary guy's feeding him a line.

Reaper shrugs.

"Call it energy if you want. People die either way."

Neither is quite correct but it doesn't really matter if the end result is the same, right?

Wilson opens his mouth like he really wants to voice some further objection, but he can't think of anything specific to say that isn't either really obvious or really rude.

"Never mind." He's still curious what kind of process the guy in the mask is talking about that can be mistaken for soul-eating, but he also doesn't want to be personally threatened with it. "Do you have a name?"