[justify]John let out a snort at Mettaton's words. He supposed Metta would care; him and Sel were friends, or at least as close to friends Sel would ever let herself have.
He took another drink from his now full glass as Mettaton talked and moved, his expression changing quickly between leers and tensed smiles and grins. It was almost entrancing in a way, or perhaps that was the wine.
"Yeah, she likes you plenty. You're her best friend or some shit." John said reassuringly, biting his tongue to make sure nothing vile slipped out. It was no secret Metta had some sort of platonic crush on Sel; hell, he'd teased Mettaton plenty about it.[/justify] we're swimming with the sharks until we drown
we sure are in for a show tonight
ref - experienced hunter - 5'11 - he/him
[align=center] ![[Image: tumblr_nkgy8yHb6s1s7hgo3o1_500.gif]](https://68.media.tumblr.com/67851513a7690b511aaceee29b8e8428/tumblr_nkgy8yHb6s1s7hgo3o1_500.gif) going to the discotheque -- getting high and getting wrecked
Rather suspiciously, Mettaton glanced over at him, brow furrowed. He wasn't sure why--he'd trusted John today, up till now; but perhaps as things settled down, with wine in his mouth and his heart finally beating at a normal pace, he felt the old sense of rivalry and spite build up again; or at least feel a bit more natural. Still, John didn't seem to mean anything untoward, and Mettaton's grin wasn't long to return. "I bet she doesn't mind you, either," He replied, his tone a bit...reassuring? He thought maybe John was missing out on the whole Sel Friendship deal.
NOTES ; mettaton ;; warchief ;; other tags here
[justify]John bit his lip and choked back a laugh at Mettaton's words. Sel definitely minded him; she'd picked out the worst of the bunch back at the prison, for reasons unknown to him.
He felt much more relaxed then earlier. Less, well, John-like. He knew he was easier to get along with after his mind had numbed a bit, though he'd never admit it. Where MTT was getting more ferocious, John's natural fire was tided.
"Mhmm, lets go with that." John said in response.[/justify] we're swimming with the sharks until we drown
we sure are in for a show tonight
ref - experienced hunter - 5'11 - he/him
[align=center] going to the discotheque -- getting high and getting wrecked
Mettaton frowned at him, not really convinced John was. Well, convinced. After a moment of just...staring, trying to gauge the guy's feelings--with no success--he shrugged, tipping back his glass once more, reaching for the bottle. "I think it would be a good idea if we finished this, you know...Sel can be a bit of a wine hog." After his own glass, he refilled John's without asking. Hey, if he didn't want it, Metta could take it himself. "Also, you know, as my roommate, you gotta let me fix you up sometime. I know you might not have any standards, but I'm not gonna let you just waltz around in that all the time. You need new clothes so you can represent this household." He pursed his lips, picking at John's garb. He was genuinely offended by the idea of someone in the house not wearing what he considered the peak of fashion, and since it was the apocalypse, really, he had the final say. It wasn't like there were many to challenge him. Of course, Sel didn't exactly find herself decked out in rhinestones or velvet, but to be fair, she could also beat Mettaton up.
NOTES ; mettaton ;; warchief ;; other tags here
[justify]It was hard to gauge John's emotions even on a weird day like this; he supposed that's what years of honing his apathy got him. He didn't protest as Mettaton filled up his glass and talked about finishing the bottle; eh, he was already buzzed up so he might as well go all the way. "Yeah, she'll finish this in one gulp."
He took another drink as Metta talked, and sputtered almost immediately as Mettaton talked about "fixing him up".
"New clothes I won't protest, but we don't exactly share the same fashion sense." John said. Mettaton preferred glitter and perfection, while John like practicality; not that anything about his current attire was practical though.
"Being flashy isn't exactly helpful, least when you're me." John said with a casual roll of his shoulders. Being a beacon because of his clothes just put an even bigger target on his head.[/justify] we're swimming with the sharks until we drown
we sure are in for a show tonight
ref - experienced hunter - 5'11 - he/him
[align=center] going to the discotheque -- getting high and getting wrecked
Metta frowned, looking mildly offended at his objections, and tutted, brushing off John's shoulder of some unknown debris. "Nonsense. Well--all right, so it's different--I can style for your...needs. I suppose you'd want something drab and boring?" He sighed. "I suppose not...well, still, I could at least make something a bit...sharper." He jumped to his feet, but wobbled, realizing as he did so that his balance was...not what it should be. He glanced down at his wineglass, and carefully kicked off his heels, bringing him down about three or four inches till he was feeling only a bit more stable. "Lets see..." He murmured, carefully walking himself to the shelf where he kept his fabric, beginning to drag some of the folded heaps out and inspecting them. Most...were far too flashy, and besides, he didn't want to waste them on John. After a bi, he held up a dark brown denim--it was a bit patchy, and sort of ashy; more grey than brown at this point. But it was fairly intact. "Is this something you'd wear?" He asked, tone showing his own reservations, though perhaps even more exaggerated than usual.
NOTES ; mettaton ;; warchief ;; other tags here
[/quote]
[justify]John didn't respond to Mettaton's assumptions of drab and boring; though it could've been worded nicer, he didn't really think Mettaton would put that much thought into it.
John stood up, his legs wobbling slightly; he guessed his balance was still shaky from earlier. He watched with amusement as Mettaton kicked off his shoes, lowering him to a more manageable height. And by manageable, John meant he didn't look like a fucking giant anymore.
Metta then walked towards the fabrics and started looking through them. John stood to the side, watching Mettaton's actions with as much focus as he could muster. Why did Mettaton have so much fabric?
"Hm- Oh, yeah, that looks fine." John spoke as Mettaton held up the denim. He kept his own thoughts about the other making him clothes silent; wasn't the weirdest thing that'd happened today.[/justify] we're swimming with the sharks until we drown
we sure are in for a show tonight
ref - experienced hunter - 5'11 - he/him
[align=center] going to the discotheque -- getting high and getting wrecked
At John's consent, Metta tossed the denim to the side; it landed on the only slightly dusty floor with a soft thump as he pulled out some more options, some silk fluttering to the floor, a bolt of dingy satin folding across his shoulder as muslin cascaded down. Before long he looked like some strange bird, different patterns and materials hanging off of him like bedraggled, mismatched wings. He went through the whole shelf before sighing, tipping back his glass and using his free hand to steady himself on the wooden shelf. "So...I...I'm not sure what to..make. For you. Do you want a satin shirt?" He picked up the orange satin from his shoulder, pinching the fabric between his two fingers, then just sort of glowering at it when it fell. His gloves weren't helping.
NOTES ; mettaton ;; warchief ;; other tags here
[justify]John tilted his head as Mettaton kept pulling out more fabric until eventually he looked like he'd created strange wings out of them. He scratched at his injured hand as he waited, not wanting to undo the bandages but just.. Bored. Clothing, fashion and all that shit wasn't really something he enjoyed; but eh, it was necessary and Metta was being nice.
"Uh.." John said as he watched the fabric Mettaton had tried to pick up fall to the ground. "Sure, but not that color." John said hesitantly. Wearing orange brought back too many memories for him, though the shirt idea sounded fine to him.[/justify] we're swimming with the sharks until we drown
we sure are in for a show tonight
ref - experienced hunter - 5'11 - he/him
[align=center] going to the discotheque -- getting high and getting wrecked
He nodded, happy enough with John's answer, then stared at him. "Your glass. It's empty." He accused, stalking forward to refill the grunt's wineglass. "I am a good host--you are not leaving till there's nothing left in the bottle."
Mettaton ruffled John's hair, leaving the fabrics on the floor to settle. "So--how's that, um, that hand feeling?"
NOTES ; mettaton ;; warchief ;; other tags here
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