nunpunching: (Gangsta's paradise.)
Matthew 'Punchy' O'Connor ([personal profile] nunpunching) wrote in [community profile] thearena2014-01-26 06:09 pm

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.
aintyourdad: (settlin' in)

[personal profile] aintyourdad 2014-02-27 04:14 am (UTC)(link)
Joel doesn't miss the Venus figure. Ellie must be collecting stuff of all her friends. Venus, though - Joel shakes his head slightly at the thought, but doesn't comment.
onlyimmune: (disappointed)

[personal profile] onlyimmune 2014-03-01 04:16 pm (UTC)(link)
"Uh, yeah. She's a friend of mine," Ellie said, a little too quickly, but immediately tried to shrug it off when she came to the end of the aisle, turned the corner, and found a rubber Zoidberg mask.

She snorted, a little too loudly, and grabbed it to put it on - and then faltered, her heart stuttering slightly. She knew exactly the last time she'd seen one of these masks, and--

She forced the thought away and made herself smile and hold it out to Punchy. "Here, check out this shit. You can be that weird alien dude."
aintyourdad: (Default)

[personal profile] aintyourdad 2014-03-04 01:13 am (UTC)(link)
"I think we get the picture," Joel says, rolling his eyes at the kid. He's pretty sure a deaf monkey could've picked up on that innuendo.

When Punchy puts the mask on, though, Joel's eyebrows shoot up. "Is that... a lobster?"
onlyimmune: (watching)

[personal profile] onlyimmune 2014-03-04 01:27 am (UTC)(link)
Ellie managed to somehow keep the blush to a bare trace of red, offering absolutely no comment on Venus that way.

"Zoidberg," She said quickly, all too happy for the shift of conversation. "He's in my district, I met him on the train. Fucking nuts, basically. An alien or something though he's from Earth, apparently. He's a doctor, I guess." She looked at Punchy, "Didn't know you guys were friends, though. Small world."
aintyourdad: (Default)

[personal profile] aintyourdad 2014-03-06 06:02 am (UTC)(link)
"Yeah, we do," Joel said immediately. "We're all set up."
onlyimmune: (watching)

[personal profile] onlyimmune 2014-03-06 05:34 pm (UTC)(link)
"Yeah, we're fine," Ellie said, a little less aggressively than Joel, maybe, but no less certain.

"Don't you worry about us. This is old school, compared to home."
aintyourdad: (Default)

[personal profile] aintyourdad 2014-03-16 07:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Joel shakes his head a little. What the hell does deuces mean?

"See you around," he mutters, getting his brand-new troll bag ready to head back to their little camp.