ghostthatlingers | Sanctum IC Contact

The noise only adds to her bad mood and what the hell is he even talking about? She swings her head over the edge of the bed and stands so she can face him better. "Since when have you had a fucking job? Every time I've left the house, you've been sitting on your ass doing nothing."

"Is that what you think? Tex, I said I'd get a fucking job, so I got a fucking job. Why is that so shocking to you?" Clatter, this time he chucks it down. "I joined the militia. I figure I already know army shit, and maybe I'll finally learn to shoot a damn gun in a way that makes people happier."

"Maybe because you haven't said shit about having a fucking job or bothered contributing any money towards anything in this damn house," she snaps. "The only army shit you know is how to be a sim trooper. I'm surprised they even let you sign up."

"Oh, gee, my fucking bad, they totally give me a paycheck every single day so I start paying for all your steaks and shit. And you never asked! It's not like you'd notice, since you're out all fucking day long anyway. I should be the one that's pissed at you, but you don't see me bitching and moaning."

He just. wants. to sleep. For the love of god. Church pinches the bridge of his nose. "It's a militia. They're not exactly the most rigorously screened, okay? They'll take who they can get."

"I shouldn't have to fucking ask for something that big! You'd bitch and complain that I was nagging you!" She can't win with this asshole. She moves closer so she's only a few feet from him and kicks a small piece of his armor out of her way.

"So they issue weapons and equipment to anyone, even when they can't hit a target a foot away? And why the hell is all your armor on the floor everywhere?"

"Okay, fine, sorry I didn't tell you that I got something that passes for a job around here, now you know, are you happy? Sheesh, thought maybe you'd jump for joy that I wasn't sitting on my ass all day. Speaking of--"

He crosses his arms, standing tall and defiant in the face of her frustrations and bitching. "I have had a hell of a day, so my fucks given are hovering at riiiiight around zero. I'll clean my shit up when I'm awake. And if you've got a problem with it, you can go sleep on the couch." There's a silent moment where he realizes what he's just said. "I can go sleep on the couch." Good boy.

"You're damn right you'd be sleeping on the couch. This is my house." He damn well better not forgot it. She's staring him down and there's no way she'll back off from this, not when he's challenging her.

"And I doubt your day running around being Bifrons pet dog was that hard. What the hell do they even assign you to do? Stand guard at a grocery store? Watch a puppy to make sure it doesn't pee on their equipment?"

"Our house." The 'bitch' is implied. Heavily.

"Okay, one, yeah, the Bifrons thing sucks, but oh fucking well, I went with what seemed like a good option, so shut up. Two, some crazy chick was lobbing molotov cocktails at buildings. Do you see any police around here? No, because we're the fucking police. That's why I was up at assfuck o'clock, sorry to disturb your beauty sleep."

"It can be our house when you've actually paid for something in it," she replies with a snort.

"You ran off this morning to deal with some dumbass that could have set you on fire and didn't think that maybe you should tell me? If you get your ass beat and killed, it's going to be all your fault."

"So, what, I'm just a fucking renter or something to you? Good to know where I am on the totem pole. I can't believe you worry over me and insult me in the same breath sometimes. I was busy, okay? You know, despite what everyone else seems to think, I really don't need someone watching over me every minute of every day. I can take care of myself."

"Renters pay rent." Which currently, he isn't doing. In fact, he hasn't paid for much of anything. "So you were busy all damn day dealing with this crazy person? Bullshit. You're running around with someone else."

What.

"Oh. my. god. Are you being serious right now?!"

That isn't a no and the look on her face tells him that he did not answer correctly.

"Why don't you sleep on the fucking couch tonight. In fact, why don't you go run off to sleep with whoever you're sneaking around with. You won't have to worry about me, I won't be the only one in the house for long."

"I'm out working--hey, have you ever heard the phrase 'damage control'? Oh wait, you're a Freelancer, you just leave your broken shit around and move onto the next job!" His stance turns from shocked to aggressive, fists balling at his sides and leaning in. "I'm out working while you go do fuck only knows what you fucking do all fucking day, and I come back in my armor tired as hell from busting my ass, and all I would really like to do right now is sleep, and you have the balls to accuse me of sleeping around?!?!"

And up go his arms. "In what universe does that make sense?! If anyone was going to be sleeping around, it'd be you; you already set a precedent--" Hold on, a hand rubs at his head. "Wait, no, that didn't really happen. Uhhh. Well, I mean, what the fuck do you mean you won't be the only one for long? Are you getting some kind of fuckbuddy to fuck around with? Aha, my stupid unreal memories were right, weren't they?"

Of course, he always jumps to insult the Project. She rolls her eyes at this remarks and scoffs. "Unlike you, I've been doing real work this whole time to make sure you have fucking food and clothes to wear while you fuck around in some crappy militia that has yet to give you any money. You've done shit-all to repay me for any of it except running off and screwing around all day.

And no, it's not some fuckbuddy though I'm starting to think maybe I should look into one. Maybe they could actually get me off and not go limp after a few shots of tequila," she snaps.

"I don't know whether to wish Tucker was here or to be insulted that you seem to only want me around for whenever you want my dick."

She's going in for a shove because really, Church?! "Are you fucking serious? That's what you got out of that? You're full of yourself."

"Seems to be the vaguely center-ish area of this topic, screwing and me screwing around, which is fucking ridiculous, and you're an asshole for even considering it, much less actually saying it out loud." He might rock back from her shove, but he plants his feet firm.

"Maybe I won't think you're the one going off screwing around if you tell me who's supposed to be in our, definitely our, house with you."

"Oh, get off your fucking high horse, asshole. If you really think I'm screwing around, then grow a backbone and fucking say it. You sure as hell haven't said you're not fucking some dumb bitch."

"Did you hear the part where I said it's fucking ridiculous? That's a clearly implied no! It's not like you're gonna fucking believe me if I say no since you seem to have it entrenched in your bullheaded...head! No, I am not screwing around behind your back. I am definitely not screwing crazy fire-setting bitches with voices in her head telling her to kill me. I get enough of that with you in my life, thanks."

"If I find out you're lying, you're both dead." Or at least seriously maimed. The sky's the limit when she finds out that kind of news.

"The Director's moving back in here in the next couple of days. Get your shit cleaned up before then. He'll be staying here when he needs a safer place to be."

"The Director."

Well, that was an unexpected bombshell.

"The Director. The one who left because all of your friends want to literally murder him. Tex, I don't care that you want him alive, but he kinda moved out for a reason."

Sure, he didn't even know the guy had been in the house at all until he was already moving on, but still! Not the kind of shit he needs hanging over him right now. "Okay, look, that asshole is not sleeping on my side of the bed. Or your side. Or any side of the bed that we share together. In fact, why should I clean my shit for him? It's my fucking house, too, and he gave it up. He should have to work around my shit. Maybe it's time he does that for fucking once."

"Who the fuck said he was sleeping in my bed? He's got his own room to sleep in. That doesn't mean you need to have your crap everywhere, you can clean up after yourself for once."

"Oh, so I'm the one who has to clean up. Maybe I'd like to spread out a little, huh?" He kicks a plate of discarded armor aside, clunking into a wall. "Maybe we'll get him to clean up. Because it sure sounds to me like he's never heard of the concept before."

She narrows her eyes and snorts. He's trying to play tough, but the act isn't working on her. "He actually has a real job and can pull his weight in other areas. You, on the other hand, are trying to play soldier with the dumbasses that run this place.

You want to spread out so bad, maybe you should go to your crappy ass apartment in D4. I hear they're having a lot of parties in the streets these days."

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