albinomilksnake | OPEN RP PART II: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

[The mask smooths out to something almost calm, where it not for the fact that there's still a pistol in his hand. His wrist goes a little slack and the artist seems to relax, able to put on the finishing touches with a careful hand. When he's done, he steps back to give Jack a good look, though he is smart enough not to step away from the point now barely pressing against his skull.

Jack takes a long look and smiles in a relaxed manner. It puts the artist at ease, though he tenses when his hand comes down heavy on his shoulder.]

Nice job, kiddo. That'll be the talk of Opportunity for a looooong time. We'll have to make some copies to spread 'em out.

[For a moment, the artist seems confused, but when he glances up, Jack is still staring at him with that too-calm expression and he obviously rethinks his stance. He nods a few times too fast and Jack is pushing him off.]

And dont worry, I'm sure we can work out some community service work to make up for all that gold you ruined.

[And there's the disappointment: prey scurrying off the second Jack nudges him towards freedom. From her perch she's got a fairly decent view of the finished product, and much as it might be enough to satisfy Jack's self-centered thirst, Nisha doesn't manage to stop herself from drawing her lips out into a thin, sorry little line.]

Shoulda killed him while you had the chance.

Tch tch.

[Jack turns his too-serene smile to Nisha. The pistol has been replaced with a data pad, with a familiar face on the front of it.]

Heroes don't pull the trigger on innocents, sweetheart.

[And then, something flickers on the screen -- a bonus to the sculptor's bank account, and a $0 balance in the other 14 sculptors on the bottom. On another platform, where one of the sculptors seems to be taking their break, they pull out an identical holopad only to find that he is no longer being paid for his work.

Already, there is a gaggle of three of them whispering amongst each other as Jack slips the pad away and dusts his hands off before putting an arm around Nisha instead.]

They let other people do it for them. [A pause, as he examines the statue.] My nose isn't fat.

[There's so little room for the both of them on the assembled bench that accommodating Jack as he settles in means lifting a leg and draping it lazily over his own. Which she does - no fuss, no grudges or grumbling - because much as she's itching for something to do that doesn't involve standing around watching literal paint ~~and gold~~ dry, that's all it ever is. An itch.

A really, really strong itch.]

Not anymore. [Her chin drops down, angled towards him so gold eyes can evaluate the fine details of his mask, leaning almost indifferently into the crook of his arm. It's been a while since the original map of his features was a fresh memory in her mind; Nisha was never surprised to realize that she doesn't really miss it.] You happy, handsome?

Mmm....nah.

[Jack doesn't notice how little room they have, but he does notice her looking just a little too closely at his mask. He knows Nisha -- she's not looking for any other reason other than to amuse herself, but that doesn't mean it doesn't make the base of his neck itch.

His fingers drum once against her arm where he's left his hand before he scoops her off his lap and onto the ground to stand them both up.]

If we're gonna sit around talking about it, we can at least go watch the fireworks.

Fireworks, huh? [Palm skidding along the slope of his side as she's settled back on her heels, the briefest spark of interest coming back to her expression. It's indicative of something that her nails scrape at the underside of his shirt before she lets go and moves across the balcony to follow suit.] Now you've got me interested again.

Was afraid you'd gone all soft over this place.

Priorities, Nisha. Didn't build this city just for my own health.

[He offers his arm, but doesn't necessarily wait for her to take it. He's leading her to the fireworks, after all. Before they even reach the center of the city, its easy to hear the angry shouts of workers talking about how they had mouths to feed and how dare he hog the glory. Somewhere in between it all is a man crying about how he has no idea what anyone is talking about.

Jack stops just short of the action, too high to be obviously watching, but close enough that they don't miss any of the shoving, punching, or beating with mallets down below.]

Once I get some people up here to keep the cogs turning, we can put our attention to other things. Maybe.

[It was really dependent on how much closer they were to waking the Warrior.]

[Nisha doesn't respond right away, arm curled around his, attention locked firmly on the grim, gory action down below. Hours she'd spent letting boring, pristine programming run as some basic substitute for entertainment, being led on tours of shopping malls and entertainment plazas. Boring. Beautiful.

Too pristine and too perfectly cut for the taste of a bandit-killer raised in the dust of Pandora.

But this? This works. Hits the spot in a way she hadn't expected and turns the image in her mind on its head. Her spine arches slightly for a better view over the edge - maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all.]

'Maybe'. Maybe doesn't sound like much fun. [Once the crimson stains below start to pool and settle, she shifts her weight back towards his side.]

I got designs, kiddo. And those designs wrapping up in a timely fashion determine where the attention goes after that. Following the plot is important, especially if the end of the plot involves saving the world.

[He stays quiet for a bit, though eventually smiles when the Hyperion AI chimes in with a clean-up call in city center. A deep breath goes in through his nostrils and out of his mouth in a contented sigh.]

Ah, the sound of perfectly tuned programming. Yeup. Still got it.

Designs involving a 'body double pleasure palace'? [She slips away from him, arms propped up on the railing just in front of him so the cool metal rests against the low point of her back. Smug, smug smile in place.

Yeah buddy, she took the tour you set her up on.

And paid attention.]

Different designs, but those designs are important too. Jobs! Inspiration! And on top of all that, they'll learn some freakin' class. Or they're fired.

[Jack turns to Nisha and hugs her a little closer in order to grab her cheek.]

Don't tell me you're jealous that a few Opportunists are gonna get some alone time with me.

[Oh, that makes her laugh, the curve of her cheek digging in against his thumb like a challenge.] We talking the 'you' you or the double down rodeo again, hotshot.

[Purely rhetorical: Nisha and jealousy are words that don't exactly coexist in the same space. If Jack wants her, he's got her, if he doesn't...well, they'll work out severance pay in the form of bullets and multi-million dollar targets.] We'll talk when one of those Opportunists learns how to shoot a bandit leader between the eyes from the top of a moving train.

Oh-ho, I love it when you're a badass.

[He does want her -- its always such a dance, walking the line between being Handsome Jack, head of Hyperion and Hero of Pandora...and just enjoying simple pleasures.

Or, not so simple pleasures. Like Nisha. He scratches under her chin fondly, and stops just short of flicking her...or pulling on the choker around her neck.]

Not so much when you play hard to get.

[Hard to get might as well be stamped on her arm, true a statement as it is, but Jack? Jack is one of the few-- the only person, to be exact-- that doesn't need to worry about keeping the fingers that catch under her chin. Or anything else for that matter.

Nisha leans forward to lessen the space between their near-level profiles, palms still braced against the railing.]

Lying's a dangerous game, Jack.

Handsome Jack doesn't lie, babe.

[He keeps his spine straight, but she's actively in his space now which makes it harder for him not to react. The point under her chin goes a little sharper and somewhere under the mask, his eye twitches.

His jaw opens like he's going to add something but it cracks awkwardly instead and is followed by a clearing of his throat. If he seems too eager, she'll wrap him around her finger.

He's absolutely enamored, but he's not an idiot.]

They call that defamation of character, y'know.

[Fortunately-- or maybe unfortunately at times-- for them both, Nisha still remembers clearly the way he'd stuttered and stumbled his way through their first few conversations. Through the discussion logged on the ECHOnet before that. It gives her an edge, it always has, but that (tempting as it might be) has never been abused.

Does she abuse? Absolutely. But it's purely physical. Mostly. Mostly physical. Nisha tortures and torments the deserving, the monstrous and the wicked. She's a lawbringer - Jack's the law. Unlike someone whose name ends in -xxi, emotional manipulation isn't on the table.

Maybe that's why Jack trusts her. Or maybe he's just desperate to have someone to trust after all they've been through.]

You gonna throw me in jail, cowboy? [Inch for inch, step by step, she keeps whatever assertiveness he has tucked away in her hand; it takes more than a little effort to keep a grin from pulling at her lips.]

Jails cost too much money for not enough payoff.

[And though he wouldn't say it out loud, Nisha kept him from getting his hands too dirty. Not to say he didn't enjoy popping off a few skulls from time to time, but--well.

It depended on the skull, an it depended what-for. Nisha took uncertainty out of the equation. He found it easier to just turn his back and let her handle the rabble. He's got way bigger fish to fry.]

So no. I'm not.

[This time she says nothing, shoving herself forward via straightening her arms and catching his mouth with her own. The scrape of tongue against teeth without either permission or hesitation; the heat of his breath versus the cold, artificial surface of his mask.

He's being too serious. Which is fine - his business is his business, and usually it involves enough mass-murder for Nisha to keep focused - but here? Now? Serious is all around them.

She figures he could use something grounding; she also figures it'll keep her from having to talk about shopping malls, so win-win.]

[Now that's the kind of payoff he had in mind.

There's a bloodbath just below them still going on, a few overworked men arguing about how to divide up the work now that their cash cow is dead, but it quickly becomes white noise. Jack's teeth part only enough to catch the tip of her tongue. If she was aiming to get physical...well, she's about to get her wish.

He grabs her throat, at odds between desires to pull her closer or to push her away. He's supposed to be focusing on Opportunity, funding his plans to uproot the Warrior--but Nisha is right here. So what she ends up with is a vice grip.

But he does force his teeth apart to give her her tongue back. He hasn't moved their faces too far, and he hasn't let go of her. There is definitely something grounding in having someone force their tongue down your throat, something that makes his skin warm. All she had to do was ask.

But then again, he likes it better when she doesn't.]

[It might as well have been expected (it was), given that there's no recoil when his hand clamps down, when she bears herself forward against the harsh curve of his palm to keep distance at a minimum over him finding an opportunity to retreat. Railing forgotten along with the echoing shouts below them, fingertips clamping down at his shirt collar and twisting it like a noose around his neck in turn. She's killed bandits like this. Breath cut off till their lips go blue and their throats bleed from the dig of fabric, but Jack, no matter the cold-blooded glint in her eye or the numerous dead left in her wake, Jack isn't on the list.

He's the one protected by it.

She angles herself in, checks his strength, his reflexes, testing to see if he'll flinch enough for her to kiss him properly or just collapse under the weight of what he obviously wants. Teeth bared, eyes locked on his own. Never routine. ]

Edited 2015-02-12 04:30 (UTC)

[Her insistence on pushing him pulls out a somewhat predictable tightening of limbs as he pushes back against her. She may have forgotten the railing, but he hasn't -- it'd be so easy to just...

Exhale. Inhale again to feel the shortness of his own breath against the pull around his neck.]

You're really a pain in my ass.

[Its said fondly, and with only a hint of a wheeze. He trusts her enough to stay where they are, and let the adrenaline of his own paranoia (They're high, there's a railing, she's choking him) sink deep into the marrow of his bones.

And he likes it.]

Could be more of one. [Vocal cords tight and strained as she works to get the words out where the webbing of his thumb's pressed down across her collar. This time she doesn't hesitate to grin. Doesn't miss the reflected glimpse of crimson in the mirror-polished windows angled high overhead. The hand at his neck stays wound in cloth, the other--

Nisha slips her nails in under the hem of his waiscoat, down along the curve of his stomach till they find skin.]

[Not to say he wasn't expecting this turn-around. He's left her alone for most of the day without anything exciting to do, and he's made certain she stayed in Opportunity rather than camp out on Pandora killing bandits.

The latter might've been more productive, in the long run. The nails that find his stomach reward her with an inhale that Jack manages to disguise as a cough. Then he's forcefully dragging her away from the edge back to the shadow of an overhang to shove her straight into a wall.

Its not that he's shy. Dull light just means there's more suspense, and it gives him more confidence.]

You sound a little too excited about that idea if you ask me.

[He can't scare her -- he knows he can't, but its less about trying to scare her and more about winding the spring.]

[Fear is foreign to Nisha. Has been since she was a little girl with blood on her throat and a shovel in her hands. Everything since is a high or a low (with a clear preference for the former) and the only thing his shove manages to pull from her is the flash of teeth and a sharp, vivid surge of adrenaline. Keeps her hungry with that distance between them, and possibly too eager to bite.

Besides, taking the shade personally is a notch too juvenile for her tastes.] Yeah? And here I thought it was just the right amount.

[A point she proves by dropping her hold on his throat - both hands at his waist with a solid, not-so-subtle grip as she undoes the buckle there, knee working at the inside of his leg to coax him into giving her room.]

[Jack clearly has no interest in making this easy for her any more than she intends to hand him the free handjob. He forcefully tilts her chin upward, straining the muscle until he can feel it pulling uncomfortably under his fingers. He almost misses the feel of skin against skin at his neck in combination with the strange rush asphyxiation had given him.

But considering where her hands have gone, he isn't complaining. His fingers force their way into her mouth and press down on her tongue to return the favor. He's so delighted that he can't do anything but scoff when he says:]

Stop it.

[His hand drops from her throat and is replaced by his mouth, cool metal of his mask contrasting with the heat of his breath and the slide of his tongue across skin.]

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