[The look on his face is absolutely, totally, resoundingly blank for entirely too long. It's not the blank of stonewalling, but rather a very 'what the fuck' sort of expression. Then he reaches up his sleeve and pulls something out that looks like a flat cigarette.
Flicks it to Cy without moving any closer to him.]
Bite down on that.
[It will dissolve into heavily mentholated vapor if Cy does. Not quite a cigarette but the closest he has.]
then we will discuss why all of you, including your dick, is dumb and what we're going to do about it.
（ the fuck you say. he eyes that. weird. stick thing?
figures it's probably some weird, psychological bullshit truth serum nonsense (or something adjacent to) and just. flicks it back. they are both grown men, and this is how they show it.
notably, still has not gotten up off the floor.
also notably, has now flopped himself back down so his shoulders are flat against it again. ）
We ain't discussin' shit my good man. I'm good. Just drop me off at the nearest... fuck if I know the chain restaurants all the way out here. Y'all got Starbucks? And I'll give you five stars on Yelp for the service you sure as shit haven't earned.
[He catches it, bites down and exhales... smoke. Sits down and leans back, back against the door, one knee up.
Looks casual but he's fairly pissed off and the way he's moving reflects that]
There is nothing I would like more than to get you off this ship and out of my hair, but unless you stop talking nonsense the only way you're going to leave is dead.
Ooh, you wanna toss me a pinkie promise on that one, old man?
（ it's said with a truly, unerringly obnoxious bat of his eyelashes. mr. serious facial hair over here can do whatever he wants, really, there's not actually much cy's all that worried about. death, his fondest mistress who won't fuck him. truly, a tragedy. ）
He thinks about screaming, and would except he'd have someone breathing down both their necks entirely too fast and then he would suffer more than this asshole.]
What is wrong with you. Do you want to leave or not?
I mean, yeah sure. But I guarantee you can't kill me, which means the only thing you can do is annoy me until I wish I'm dead.
（ he yawns again. and then, at long last, he heaves himself upright with the airs of someone who is resigned to lifting an entire goddamn mountain, groaning the entire while. then he slowly scoots himself around until they're facing one-another.
one arm is casually draped across the sleeping bench, and cy jerks his chin at the man in a little 'what's up?' gesture of absolute cultural fuckboyism. ）
Wanna give it a try? （ guy's a soldier, so he's gotta have a weapon on him somewhere. ） Shoot me in the head.
[Crais is perpetually confused about two thirds of what is coming out of this man's mouth, but he is not actually stupid. Vacuum of space didn't do it, an energy bolt certainly isn't going to.
Crais fixes Cy with a hard, flat, stare, stands up and opens the door to that cell. He lifts and levels his weapon - but not at Cyram. At someone guarding the block of cells. Doesn't hesitate, just shoots. The back of the guy's head blows out and he collapses.]
cy is ready to get shot. ready to feel that bite and sting and the inevitable knitting of flesh and bone and brain matter back together. pain's pain — he doesn't love it, but he's good at standing it just the same. so when the (metaphorical) hammer falls, and it's not on him, he's.
momentarily dumbfounded. wow, okay. world's weirdest rescue by the strangest psychopath he's ever seen. ）
Uh. （ eloquence, thy name is cy. but he's gotten to his feet at least, all spidery limbs and soaring height and bemusement written into every line of his expression. ） Okay. What's that all about?
cy gives him a long look, and the carefree 'fuck you' nature of his attitude sort of splits along the faultlines, leaving the serious nature beneath exposed the way ribs can be drawn aside from a heart.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Flicks it to Cy without moving any closer to him.]
Bite down on that.
[It will dissolve into heavily mentholated vapor if Cy does. Not quite a cigarette but the closest he has.]
then we will discuss why all of you, including your dick, is dumb and what we're going to do about it.
no subject
figures it's probably some weird, psychological bullshit truth serum nonsense (or something adjacent to) and just. flicks it back. they are both grown men, and this is how they show it.
notably, still has not gotten up off the floor.
also notably, has now flopped himself back down so his shoulders are flat against it again. ）
We ain't discussin' shit my good man. I'm good. Just drop me off at the nearest... fuck if I know the chain restaurants all the way out here. Y'all got Starbucks? And I'll give you five stars on Yelp for the service you sure as shit haven't earned.
no subject
Looks casual but he's fairly pissed off and the way he's moving reflects that]
There is nothing I would like more than to get you off this ship and out of my hair, but unless you stop talking nonsense the only way you're going to leave is dead.
no subject
（ it's said with a truly, unerringly obnoxious bat of his eyelashes. mr. serious facial hair over here can do whatever he wants, really, there's not actually much cy's all that worried about. death, his fondest mistress who won't fuck him. truly, a tragedy. ）
no subject
Just.
What. The. Fuck.
He thinks about screaming, and would except he'd have someone breathing down both their necks entirely too fast and then he would suffer more than this asshole.]
What is wrong with you. Do you want to leave or not?
no subject
（ he yawns again. and then, at long last, he heaves himself upright with the airs of someone who is resigned to lifting an entire goddamn mountain, groaning the entire while. then he slowly scoots himself around until they're facing one-another.
one arm is casually draped across the sleeping bench, and cy jerks his chin at the man in a little 'what's up?' gesture of absolute cultural fuckboyism. ）
Wanna give it a try? （ guy's a soldier, so he's gotta have a weapon on him somewhere. ） Shoot me in the head.
no subject
Crais fixes Cy with a hard, flat, stare, stands up and opens the door to that cell. He lifts and levels his weapon - but not at Cyram. At someone guarding the block of cells. Doesn't hesitate, just shoots. The back of the guy's head blows out and he collapses.]
If you want out, then come on.
no subject
cy is ready to get shot. ready to feel that bite and sting and the inevitable knitting of flesh and bone and brain matter back together. pain's pain — he doesn't love it, but he's good at standing it just the same. so when the (metaphorical) hammer falls, and it's not on him, he's.
momentarily dumbfounded. wow, okay. world's weirdest rescue by the strangest psychopath he's ever seen. ）
Uh. （ eloquence, thy name is cy. but he's gotten to his feet at least, all spidery limbs and soaring height and bemusement written into every line of his expression. ） Okay. What's that all about?
no subject
[Yet. He's tense, this is urgent and he's just... going to...
He can't just shove this one into a ship and send him off like he had Aeryn's previous boyfriend.
Dammit.]
We're leaving. On that ship.
[That ship being Talyn, whom he is stealing - again. Sure. Why not. He's already dead.]
no subject
you know what? it's better than a box.
cy gives him a long look, and the carefree 'fuck you' nature of his attitude sort of splits along the faultlines, leaving the serious nature beneath exposed the way ribs can be drawn aside from a heart.
then he shrugs. ）
Well, all right. You got snacks, my man?