anything you can do [private] i can do better

[Darky]

John was.. Still somewhat at odds with Sel ever since he'd helped out Jamison. He didn't really mind pissing people off, but Sel was different in the aspect that she could very easily kick him to the curb, or possibly even slam his face into it if he pissed her off too much.

So he'd spent his entire day tracking a stag through the forest, makeshift spear strapped to his back. He wasn't after the stag itself though; he'd been mapping the trails through the forest, and hiding traps along the paths. If one deer came through these areas, there might be more coming soon.

Besides, he had nothing better to do then wait for one of them to spring.

[ashen]

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[sub]badlands ♡ 24 ♡ [abbr=wears eyepatch on one eye, glamorous, violent]more tags[/abbr][/sub]

Mettaton hated John. When he saw the pompous prick flounce off to do his hunting or whatever, he, of course, followed. Armed, of course. Ready to fuck with him. He wasn't in a good mood, or else he maybe would have been able to ignore the man and let him go about his business. No--today, he was following him, palming the bomb in his pocket. Not a real bomb, sadly. Well--no, he didn't actually want to blow the guy up. He wasn't that mad.

Still, he could at least sabotage this asshole's mission. What was he even doing? With a roll of the eyes, the tall, slim man adjusted his gloves, and kept moving--when he saw something in the ground.

Fuck. He'd very nearly stepped on a trap--and by the looks of it, he wouldn't just be embarrassed by the experience, but pretty hurt, too.

"Shit," He breathed, then looked up. Where was John? He had to be around here somewhere.

coded by junkers

[Sel]

hehe mind if I track?

[Darky]

John crouched beside a tree, hidden from any prying eyes and upwind from where his traps were set. He casually leaned against the trunk of the tree and sat for a moment, enjoying the fresh air and rest from combing over the rough terrain.

He moved when he heard a soft hiss of "shit", coming from the path he'd trapped. It was a very familiar voice, and John felt a twinge of disappointment that Mettaton hadn't actually sprung one of his traps. Sure, MT might've broken a leg if he had, but it would've been funny.

John peered around the tree, searching for wherever Mettaton was hiding. It'd be better to get Mettaton away from his traps as quickly as possible, so the prey wouldn't get scared away.

[ashen]

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[sub]badlands ♡ 24 ♡ [abbr=wears eyepatch on one eye, glamorous, violent]more tags[/abbr][/sub]

omg pyre

He didn't know where the brat was, and he was beginning to get irritated, casting his gaze around and through the trees, taking a few steps but walking quite carefully so as not to set anything off. What was he going to do if he did find John, anyway? Hurt him? No, he couldn't without Sel getting on his ass about it.
He could sabotage the traps, though.
Was he that petty? What would that achieve? It'd make this asshat go hungry, maybe. He'd also be a lot more useless. Of course, if he was around--he'd know it was Mettaton who'd done anything.

Still, now he was looking at the trap, an impulse took over. It just would be so satisfying to hear it snap shut, regardless of the effects. He couldn't resist--and so grabbed a stick, and jabbed it into the center of the trap.


It was a lot louder than he thought it'd be--and the stick splintered, and jarred his hand. He stumbled back a little, luckily not into a trap himself. Wow.


coded by junkers

[Darky]

There was a satisfying snap, but no scream; not one from a deer or a human. John let out a quiet sigh and stood up, and started walking towards where the trap was.

It would only get set off when something pressed down on it with considerable weight, so that way no bunnies or leaves would be setting them off. So that meant something fishy was going on, and Mettaton was most definitely the perpetrator.

He didn't want to shout and scare off any potential meals though, so he carefully combed the forest while avoiding the traps he'd set; last thing he needed to do was get himself killed.

[ashen]

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[sub]badlands ♡ 24 ♡ [abbr=wears eyepatch on one eye, glamorous, violent]more tags[/abbr][/sub]

Mettaton moved cautiously, keeping his eye open for the runt, though also definitely on the forest floor. He didn't want to lose a leg, too. His mind was working quickly, as he gripped his knife. The asshole wasn't sneaking around here, trying to find him, was he? If he ended up getting stabbed in the back, god he hoped Sel would kill the fucker. He turned, moving around a thick tree trunk, and paused when he saw movement ahead. He froze, narrowing his eye--was that John?

Yes. He smirked, tapping his knife against the tree trunk to get his attention. "Ciao."

coded by junkers

[Darky]

John scanned the forest, but he didn't see any glittery fucks running around; maybe Mettaton was trying to hide? Probably, MTT wasn't dumb enough to start sabotaging shit while prancing around in a pink sequinned suit or something equally flashy.

He jumped when he heard the tapping of a knife behind him and turned around, trying to smooth over the fact that he'd gotten startled as he glared at Mettaton's smug face.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" John asked, his voice cool and cold.

[ashen]

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[sub]badlands ♡ 24 ♡ [abbr=wears eyepatch on one eye, glamorous, violent]more tags[/abbr][/sub]

Oh, how he lived for that glare. Still, neither of them were actually happy to be in this situation, even if Mettaton was only here through choice. "Oh, it's a free country, "Whiskers". That's your nickname, isn't it? Or is it actually your name?" He wasn't actually one for name-calling (in the negative sense, anyway), as he did want to have some level of class; and he coughed, shrugging off his own comments like they didn't count. "I'm headhunter. Technically, I'm supposed to be out here. Hunting. And ordering hunters about, et cetera." He grinned. "Like you."
coded by junkers

[Darky]

John rolled his eyes at Mettaton's name calling; he didn't really give a shit who called him what, but the nickname felt slimy coming out of Mettaton's mouth and he disliked it. He snorted at Mettaton's other excuse; Mettaton in the wilderness, getting dirty and hunting shit? He saw through that lie quickly enough, but it was a nice reminder that Mettaton was technically above him in the pecking order.

"Don't fucking call me Whiskers, and its kind of pitiful you think you can boss me around." John snorted. "Actually, it'd be kind of entertaining to see you trying to do your job."

//john: going straight for the jugular
me: screaming ic opinions