[Dammit, comparing him to Winston Churchill isn't going to help, Shaun! He twists his mouth a bit sourly.] Excuse me. We can't all be tea-drinking, Tory geniuses with an asshole problem.
Come on, you're the only one left. Well, Rebecca is probably out there doing the same thing you're doing. Just... try not to die before you get back. You'd sure be a lot of good that way. [Also maybe JUST MAYBE A LITTLE he doesn't want to see you die.]
[ and just who's popping in but your bearded counterpart in Asgard, all mid-mission in his dark Muspelheim gear that's since gone a bit gray from volcanic ash. have a comradely shoulder squeeze, bro. ]
Don't sell yourself short. there's more ahead for you, if your mun's up for the challenge.
[Good Lord, it's himself in all his Asgardian glory. And sounding like optimistic Lucy no less.] I think there's more ahead for you. I'm technically dead. And I heard from Groucho you're busy saving Asgard.
Try not to die again, okay? [Man, it's weird telling himself that.]
Technically, but not from where I'm standing. You look as alive as Shaun and I--though maybe not Shaun, sorry. [ He pokes him in the shoulder, hard. Desmond brushes aside the compliment (or insult, lbr self the whole post-apoc fashion was never really your jam), and rolls his shoulders. ]
I've got things to do because my mun believes all of this- [ a tug at his ashen cape, ] -will do me some good in the end, between colluding with my ancestors' muns and not telling me a single fucking thing. Yours will find something for you, I know. We're too pretty to be shelved.
[ he quiets at Desmond's urging, his mouth drawing into a line. ]
You know as well as I that I can't promise that. This is something I chose to do.
I am standing right here, for the record, just so you two unrepentant narcissists are aware.
Oh, and look at that. So headstrong, he won't even take his own advice. I'd say I'm shocked, but I'm not really, you know? [ motioning to not-Asgard Desmond. ] You're technically more alive than this moron, [ smacking Asgard-Desmond in the shoulder with the back of his hand. ] -unless you've managed to rack up, what is it, two deaths now? Three? I'm sorry, I've actually lost count.
[Ow.... He rubs his shoulder. That hurt more than it should to be dead, he thinks. Maybe he's not dead. Maybe he's Frankenstein's monster.] Can't you see I'm trying to have a little heart-to-heart with myself, Shaun? [He pats... well, himself, on the shoulder.]
Try not to die too much then. [He gets the selfless saving all of humanity/everyone/Asgard/gods thing.] Otherwise, this guy will give you hell. Because apparently he cares.
[ oh how he wishes he had the right reflexes to throw that right back at you, Desmond. he refrains from hitting him back though because he is the bigger man. obviously. he offers a scowl to not-Asgard Desmond. ]
I'm sorry Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Dumber, should I come back later so you can make each other even more insufferably egocentric? My apologies for interrupting you two. Oh! Wait! I'm not interrupting because you, [ motioning to Asgard Desmond. ] interrupted me.
Actually, what I do involves research, compiling of facts, hacking, networking, data entry, archiving, and most recently, making coffee. Giving everyone hell is a consequence of everyone's apparent incompetence. Purely a reactive measure. [ mumbles something about "course I care" and "not Edmund Blackadder" ]
Is this seriously what it looks like to an outside observer when he bickers back and forth with Shaun? Cause it looks quite similar to a lover's spat. He would be embarrassed if it wasn't so funny.] C'mon, you shouldn't always give us [Me?] hell.
Look at these faces. How could you? [LOOK HOW CUTE AND SCRUFFY AND ASHY AND DEAD THEY BOTH LOOK, SHAUN.]
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Come on, you're the only one left. Well, Rebecca is probably out there doing the same thing you're doing. Just... try not to die before you get back. You'd sure be a lot of good that way. [Also maybe JUST MAYBE A LITTLE he doesn't want to see you die.]
You know, like me.
no subject
[ and just who's popping in but your bearded counterpart in Asgard, all mid-mission in his dark Muspelheim gear that's since gone a bit gray from volcanic ash. have a comradely shoulder squeeze, bro. ]
Don't sell yourself short. there's more ahead for you, if your mun's up for the challenge.
no subject
Try not to die again, okay? [Man, it's weird telling himself that.]
Nice threads, by the way.
no subject
I've got things to do because my mun believes all of this- [ a tug at his ashen cape, ] -will do me some good in the end, between colluding with my ancestors' muns and not telling me a single fucking thing. Yours will find something for you, I know. We're too pretty to be shelved.
[ he quiets at Desmond's urging, his mouth drawing into a line. ]
You know as well as I that I can't promise that. This is something I chose to do.
no subject
Oh, and look at that. So headstrong, he won't even take his own advice. I'd say I'm shocked, but I'm not really, you know? [ motioning to not-Asgard Desmond. ] You're technically more alive than this moron, [ smacking Asgard-Desmond in the shoulder with the back of his hand. ] -unless you've managed to rack up, what is it, two deaths now? Three? I'm sorry, I've actually lost count.
[ 1. why are there two of you
2. why are you the bane of his existence
3. why are there two of you ]
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Try not to die too much then. [He gets the selfless saving all of humanity/everyone/Asgard/gods thing.] Otherwise, this guy will give you hell. Because apparently he cares.
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Two. The second one wasn't my fault, ass.
[ He scoffs. ]
Shaun gives everyone hell, it's what he does. You start worrying when he's placatory and congenial.
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I'm sorry Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Dumber, should I come back later so you can make each other even more insufferably egocentric? My apologies for interrupting you two. Oh! Wait! I'm not interrupting because you, [ motioning to Asgard Desmond. ] interrupted me.
Actually, what I do involves research, compiling of facts, hacking, networking, data entry, archiving, and most recently, making coffee. Giving everyone hell is a consequence of everyone's apparent incompetence. Purely a reactive measure. [ mumbles something about "course I care" and "not Edmund Blackadder" ]
no subject
Is this seriously what it looks like to an outside observer when he bickers back and forth with Shaun? Cause it looks quite similar to a lover's spat. He would be embarrassed if it wasn't so funny.] C'mon, you shouldn't always give us [Me?] hell.
Look at these faces. How could you? [LOOK HOW CUTE AND SCRUFFY AND ASHY AND DEAD THEY BOTH LOOK, SHAUN.]