dear_mun | ( canon is arrow, mun is impatient. )

[ With a short roll of her eyes. ] Why take the long way around when you can just skip ahead to the good parts?

Ah, something about the journey rather than the destination? I hear they're pretty adamant about convincing themselves they're in the clear with stuff like this.

Yeah, but you don't actually buy any of that, do you? Most of them are so knee-deep in bullshit they've gotta wear booties and waders.

Well, no. Not really. But it also beats being shoved into the back of a proverbial closet, so all this? Is more preferable than it isn't.

Depends on the closet. [ Though she really isn't one to talk. Being undead dials your everyday, average teenager apathy all the way up past eleven.

She looks him up and down once. ] So what's your deal anyway? I mean there's gotta be a reason she's so into, right?

Edited 2013-12-05 17:16 (UTC)

My — my deal? [ He chuckles, though there's some very serious apprehension here. Barry settles his hands in his jean pockets, following her eyes up and down his figure.

He crooks a brow. ] You know, ...I'm not entirely sure. Something about being a "huge fan"? I think there's also something about comic books in there somewhere—? Not too sure what that's about.

I'm just an average guy with a woefully average job. [ For now. ]

[ She definitely seems to tune out at the phrase "comic books", though her attention wanders back by the time he's finished his little spiel. Madison gives him another look up and down (more pointed this time), her gaze lingering on his crotch as she lifts a speculative eyebrow. ]

So a grower, now a show-er, huh. [ Her mouth crooks with a flat sort of amusement, most of which doesn't reach her eyes. ] I guess I can see the appeal.

[ And now he's getting virtually undressed by a pair of eyeballs. O-kay, that's — Barry clears his throat, glancing up at the ceiling. At the mention of appeal, he looks back at her. ]

Thank you—? I think. [ Well, this is. Awkward. He points a finger. ] So, what's, uh. What's your story?

[ She does seem to glean some satisfaction from watching him squirm but it's superficial at best. But superficial is better than nothing, which is what makes up most of Madison's life these days. (If she's grateful she doesn't show it.)

With an exasperated sigh. ] I'm a rich witch bitch who got her throat slit. [ There's proof of it there across her neck, a single stroke that runs like a glassy grin across her skin. ] But I got over it, so now I'm here.

[ Okay, so, this is going to take a minute to process. First off, rich. Simple enough. Now, witch is a pill that's slightly bigger to swallow. Then again, he lives in a world where vigilantes run around like Robin Hood and men in the guise of tornadoes end the life of your mother.

He lets that thought pass.

The slit throat, however, is the one causing the most problems. His eyes pass over the sight of her neck and he attempts not to pursue a closer look. It's — oddly fascinating, but he knows the boundaries of the general human being. ]

Well, that sounds — awful, actually. I'm sorry. You know, that that happened to you. [ Barry sounds genuine; while she may consider herself - well, a bitch - that's really no way to go. ] But at least you're here now, right? ...Although, honestly? I'm still not even sure what this place really is.

[ Used to be she wore a black ribbon around her throat — this dainty thing that was even more obvious than the scar and made her feel like some uptight Victorian hiding her ankles under her skirts. But that was before she knew the hows and the whys of her death, before Cordelia had seen the truth about what Fiona had done to her because she thought she was the next supreme. Now Madison refuses to hide it, flaunting it as aggressively as she might have shown off her long legs or her tits. If the guy wanted to stare he could stare all right. After all— ]

Yeah, well like I said: I got over it.

[ She didn't need his pity (she didn't need anybody's) and, yeah, it had been a shitty way to go but she wasn't going to spend her unlife boo-hooing about it. Madison shrugs like it's no big deal. ]

Pretty sure this is kinda like the green room. You know, the place you go before you go? If we give them enough jollies, they send us on stage and we get our fifteen minutes. [ Madison gestures towards nothing in particular, then gestures back. ] If not, we get sent packing. Back to the closet for us.

Edited 2013-12-05 19:38 (UTC)

[ And with that, the subject is definitely changing. Okay. That's fine. Barry can deal with that. After all, his goal isn't to make anyone feel uncomfortable. God knows he does enough of that on his own. Always late, never the greatest conversationalist in the room, and don't get him started on the technobabbling.

No, really. Don't ever.

Fifteen minutes. That sounds worrisome. He's done his fair share of scoping now, has a better understanding of what that really entails. He has no intention of being shipped back up and put to bed, but the promise of her hypothetical stage doesn't come without lack of excitement, either. More like foreboding. ]

So, basically, what you're saying is: we're all the unlucky contestants of one person's Survivor?

[ Madison is, for all intents and purposes, everything she purports herself to be. She's a child actress, used to being center stage and getting the things that she wants. It's made her entitled, narcissistic, and superficial. If Madison Montgomery wants to steer a conversation, then you'd better believe she's going to steer it.

And besides, there's not really anything else to talk about when it comes to her particular "condition". Dead is dead and that's what she is. Dead flesh. dead inside — that swamp witch just managed to jump start her muscles again but everything else? That still belongs to the grave. ]

Basically? Yeah.

If you're lucky she'll get bored and move on to the next shiny thing. [ Madison's mouth crooks, preemptively amused with her own bitterness. ] And if you're not, it's a one-way trip to fuck island, getting your holes stuffed by some guys named Sven.

[ A beat. ] Sounds like vacation, if you ask me. [ Her sarcasm's flat. Biting. ]

Edited 2013-12-05 22:15 (UTC)

[ A vacation. Right. That was what his trip to Starling City was meant to be. Well. Sort of. More like a vacation than a road to more questions without discernible answers, at the very least. All Barry wants is to put his life back together; he never anticipated it would take him so far as the revealing of The Hood.

Suddenly, his world is as vast as it is complicated. And that's not accounting for what's to come. No, right now, in this moment, Barry Allen has it, well, easy. If only he knew. He might be less enthusiastic. Or more. Probably depends on the day.

Still, he stops dwelling. He shifts his attention back to the girl. He flashes that smile again; it's only slightly less awkward than previously. He shifts again. ]

So, what does that mean for you? Any vacation plans for the near future?

( canon is arrow, mun is impatient. )

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I AM SO SORRY orz

UNBREAK MY HEAAAART.