[he's only half-listening to Kit prattle on as he climbs the stairs, pain and his own thoughts taking the majority of his focus. it was infinitely more pleasant like this, the other boy's self-important drivel transformed into soothing white noise. he had quite a pleasant voice, now that he thought about it, so long as it was put to the task of saying nothing with any real meaning.
from the bits and pieces that filtered through his ears it only seemed like the usual good-natured banter that occurred between people looking to spar at some point. nothing that he couldn't respond to in kind without actually having paid attention.
despite the constant siege of aches and pains, Vincent only pauses once before nearing the first landing to bend down and pick up the twice-damned soda can that had started this all. it's a mistake he regrets immediately, his back shrieking out in horror as it's forced to contort in such unholy directions; he's forced to pretend to inspect the nearby surroundings for his piercing for a moment or two before gathering up enough strength to stand again and proceed.
the fact he's taken it with the intention of recycling later is a secret he'll bring with him into death.
at some point a few moments later he finally registers that Kit has been laughing at something, the gentle sound wafting its way up the empty stairs. despite having only known the other boy for a grand total of fifteen minutes he can already tell that mirth is an ominous portent and whips around to stare at him, finally zeroing in on the conversation.
his eyes narrow suspiciously when he sees that his companion's gone through the effort of raising a hand to point at something. just what was he trying to say..?
the awful possibility settles upon him with a crushing suddenness as he wracks his brain to reconstruct the world as it would have been when Kit first began pointing. his own hand, already braced on his hip, mercifully has no trouble in investigating without much sign of what it is he's doing exactly.
the results are just as damning as he'd feared: he can feel his missing piercing snagged on the hem of his shirt, dangling right atop his ass. of course. this would happen on a day when he'd chosen an outfit relatively free of studs and rivets.
Vincent honestly can't say what's more enraging, the humor at his expense or the fact that Kit must have deliberately allowed him to make the near-crippling journey up here before cluing him into the joke. either way he's glad for the sharp edges of his jewelry; the pain as his fist clenches it tight enough to break the skin is enough of a distraction to keep him from contemplating reigniting their fight right now.]
Not with such an obnoxious target to aim for.
[there's no point in shielding the fact that he's flustered, not when Kit is already laughing at him over it. might as well indulge himself a little in some good old-fashioned threat making.]
It'd probably be a better look in you anyway.
[in, not on. because you're damn sure that if by some miracle he did actually fall he'd be ramming that thing right in one of the other boy's eyes.]
no subject
from the bits and pieces that filtered through his ears it only seemed like the usual good-natured banter that occurred between people looking to spar at some point. nothing that he couldn't respond to in kind without actually having paid attention.
despite the constant siege of aches and pains, Vincent only pauses once before nearing the first landing to bend down and pick up the twice-damned soda can that had started this all. it's a mistake he regrets immediately, his back shrieking out in horror as it's forced to contort in such unholy directions; he's forced to pretend to inspect the nearby surroundings for his piercing for a moment or two before gathering up enough strength to stand again and proceed.
the fact he's taken it with the intention of recycling later is a secret he'll bring with him into death.
at some point a few moments later he finally registers that Kit has been laughing at something, the gentle sound wafting its way up the empty stairs. despite having only known the other boy for a grand total of fifteen minutes he can already tell that mirth is an ominous portent and whips around to stare at him, finally zeroing in on the conversation.
his eyes narrow suspiciously when he sees that his companion's gone through the effort of raising a hand to point at something. just what was he trying to say..?
the awful possibility settles upon him with a crushing suddenness as he wracks his brain to reconstruct the world as it would have been when Kit first began pointing. his own hand, already braced on his hip, mercifully has no trouble in investigating without much sign of what it is he's doing exactly.
the results are just as damning as he'd feared: he can feel his missing piercing snagged on the hem of his shirt, dangling right atop his ass. of course. this would happen on a day when he'd chosen an outfit relatively free of studs and rivets.
Vincent honestly can't say what's more enraging, the humor at his expense or the fact that Kit must have deliberately allowed him to make the near-crippling journey up here before cluing him into the joke. either way he's glad for the sharp edges of his jewelry; the pain as his fist clenches it tight enough to break the skin is enough of a distraction to keep him from contemplating reigniting their fight right now.]
Not with such an obnoxious target to aim for.
[there's no point in shielding the fact that he's flustered, not when Kit is already laughing at him over it. might as well indulge himself a little in some good old-fashioned threat making.]
It'd probably be a better look in you anyway.
[in, not on. because you're damn sure that if by some miracle he did actually fall he'd be ramming that thing right in one of the other boy's eyes.]