thearena | I'm Superman with the Wind at his Back [Open]

WHO| Punchy and open
WHAT| Punchy ego trips
WHEN| Midway through week 2, during the day
WHERE| The gift shop on the second floor
WARNINGS| Swearing, I guess

Hell yeah Punchy's in a gang.

At least, that's what he's telling himself as he heads down to the gift shop to look for supplies. The shop is a surprisingly good for the science crew - miniature science kits, automated piggy banks, battery-operated toys, and all manner of things that can be broken down and used for parts.

And, of course, it's got a healthy supply of merchandise branded in Punchy's image. Punchy feels absolutely zero shame as he loads up his Punchy backpack with Punchy-brand sunglasses and Sour Patch Punchies ("deliver a punch of sourness!"). A Punchy hat sits atop his head with a chibi version of him stitched onto the visor. He tops this all off by putting a thermos with his face on it into his Punchbox, alongside an alarm clock of him boxing with Hyperion and a pair of socks with his trademark puppet printed on them.

The puppet is dangling out of the waistband of his bright gold pajamas. He's also got one of those corpse-clearing robots tucked under his arm, and he's beatboxing to himself as he grabs things off the shelf. He's in a startlingly good mood for the Arena, given that he's finally found not only a person who agrees with him, but an entire motley group of kindred spirits. Pacifists who want to solve the puzzle of how get out of here, rather than kill their way through the competition.

It's what he's always wanted out of sidekicks, really.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The gift shop had been beckoning to Felicity for several hours before she decided to dash through the open sections of hallway and into the retail mecca. Since she hadn't seen anyone enter, she'd assumed she'd be alone in there. Unfortunately, she assumed incorrectly and she instantly cursed her own stupidity when she came face to face with Punchy and his self-promoting apparel. Instinct told her to brace for a battle, but a little voice in the back of her head reassured her she could take him.

"What are you doing?" She finally inquired, making the first move and not at all caring that it was a plain one. She didn't know him and if he made a move, she couldn't waste time being witty.

Punchy's so invested in figuring out how to get the penny out of the piggybank bearing his face that he doesn't even notice Felicity until she speaks. For about half a second he reproaches himself, but then he thinks screw it, he could probably protect himself anyway.

"Boostin' some swag," Punchy says, zipping up his backpack. He gives Felicity one of those long looks that's inappropriate for polite company or anybody wearing bright gold shiny pajamas. "Damn, shawty, they be stockin' this crib with all the fine bitches?"

That sure as hell doesn't sound like English. But then again, it sounds closer to English than to any other language she's ever heard. If it is English he's trying to speak, it's being absolutely trampled upon to the point that it makes Fee want to weep a little internally.

"You... what?" Shaking her head, she wants to change the subject from the apparent language barrier to assessing whether or not this individual is an immediate threat. She decides quickly to make a bold move. "You should share that with me."

"This?" He holds his backpack up, raising his eyebrows at her. "Shawty, you want swag I'm bossed to provide, but you got this whole joint to pick from."

He gestures widely with his arm around the store.

She tilts her head, half smiling at him. The smile is to mask that she's only about half sure of what he's saying. "I'm afraid I haven't any idea what these things are." To demonstrate, she plucks up one of the plushies. "What on Earth is this and what is it good for?"

"That? That's some bitch shit. Ain't worth any tenda." He takes a plushie of Sherlock and raises his eyebrows at it. "You're supposed to make it your squeeze, you know?"

And then, after a beat, "I could make you my squeeze."

Fee isn't completely certain as to the meaning of his words, but she more than understands the meaning of his tone. She'd love to see him try. And land on his backside in the process.

"I don't care much for squeezings. I'd much prefer something to eat." Somehow, she manages to keep her contempt under wraps, but only just.

"Aw, shawty, don't be playing scurred." Punchy winks and leans back against a display, making sure to show off his rock-hard abs. Because that's a thing. He tries to eyebrow waggle at her but since he still lacks independent control of both brows, his smolder falls short.

"They's got all kinds of eats here, though."

She wonders then if he is perhaps demented in someway. That is the only explanation she can come up with to justify his unusually foolish behavior, backwards speech patterns, and simple expression. At once, she absolutely pities him, though not enough that she seems to fall for his seduction. It's pity in the way that a child pities an old man. It's horror and disgust, and relief that one is superior, mingled with fear that one might become that someday.

"How can I tell if it is palatable?"

Punchy throws up his hands in an exaggerated shrug. "I stuffed up on like, mad amounts of candy already. If it was poison I'd be six feet under right now, shawty."

He reaches over and throws her some gummi versions of various Tributes. "Tastes hella good."

She supposes then that she may as well take the risk. Poisoned sweets is a lousy way to go, but she can't say she didn't try to win. She tears open the bag of gummis with some ferocity and pops a handful into her mouth. Her face twists a little at the taste and texture, but in the end, it seems they are indeed edible.

"And you've been living off of these?" She isn't sure that's believable.

"Word up. This shit's the bomb." He tears open a package of sour someone-or-others and jams a handful in his mouth.

Then pulls out another, and tries his best to lick it seductively.

At first she suspects he is choking on the confection and she debates the merits of attempting to render aid before realizing that no, he isn't choking at all. In fact, he seems to believe what he's doing is somehow amusing. The expression on Felicity's face makes it clear she isn't impressed.

"That is disgusting."

"Yeah, it's hella sick." Punchy grins and finally swallows the soppy gummi person. "And so'm I."

"That much is quite evident." There is no masking her contempt any longer. She plucks up an unopened back of gummis and turns on her heel, preparing to make a swift and final exit before he disgusts her even further.

I'm Superman with the Wind at his Back [Open]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

sob i am so sorry

no you're not ;;

Re: no you're not ;;

no subject