[ Well, he does like to play and he doesn't do that unless he can win. The stakes might be a little unclear here, but weedling his way in between cracks in the armor is entertainment enough for now. He keeps his eyes firmly on the other man's until the message is typed up. Once he reads it, he only grins. ]
If you wanted to check out my arse all you had to do was ask nicely.
[ He takes the bottles, tongue sliding over his teeth before his mouth purses with amusement. ]
So I've noticed. [ He takes a step closer, feigning concern. ] Works in progress take time, pull one away from things that might otherwise hold their attention.
[When John steps towards him, Wrench doesn't let himself lose any ground. He stares down at the man, passing his attention between the text on the screen and the smug face in front of him. He's put men in lakes for less, and the fact that John will return in a few days doesn't make it any less alluring. In fact, it's hard to think he shouldn't when there's no real consequence.
He doesn't reach for his Fluid. Instead, Wrench raises his hands to shape his reply.] Why don't you tell me what exactly it is you think I'm missing?
[Knowing that John won't understand doesn't deter him. It's not an answer he's interested in more than just lording something over the other man's head and making him squirm. He shapes his hands into fists with enough tension to crack his knuckles.]
Don't make me fuck up that pretty face of yours. My partner would be so disappointed.
[ At least the big man doesn't back down easy. Be a shame if he did. John's keen on a challenge, itching for a brawl like it's been building under his skin for days. Likely has been, especially with his birthday just about to be here. There's something dangerous about Wrench that he can't quite put his finger on. The same kind of undertow in Grady and well.
There's nothing like a little self-destruction to take the edge off. The other man doesn't use the Fluid and it makes his mouth twitch, lips curling up in a sneer. Cheap shot. It's easy enough to try and work out what he's trying to get across, he thinks. ] Oh, with you puffed up as you are I hardly think I have to.
[ Wrench doesn't want to type? John doesn't have to either. He's faced down bigger and badder things than him. If he wanted to make him squirm he should've tried chatting him up or zip ties instead. He doesn't get the last part but the cracking of his knuckles make a hell of a point.
He casts a derisive glance down towards the other man's clenched fists. ]
[There's always a point of no return. A place where no self-respecting man would simply drop his fists and let himself walk away. John is in his space, his shop, crowding in on his livelihood. The man's already had his shot with Grady, and even if it makes Wrench hypocritical, he's jealous about that. Jealousy and anger are a deadly combination.
He knows John is trying to push his buttons. Maybe it's been his intent all along, coming in here and throwing this part of his livelihood in his face. Or maybe the man really didn't know what he was getting into, but now they're both too far gone. No way is Wrench going to let him think he's won. There's enough other shit for the both of them to fight in this town, but the adrenaline is electric. Wrench can practically smell the blood. It's too familiar. This is all too much a part of the fabric of his upbringing.
His fist raises from his side, and he jabs upward at the tender part of the underside of John's jaw. It's enough to rattle his teeth and clamp his mouth closed. Certainly enough to make him think twice about the smart remarks. Wrench huffs air from his nose like a bull, green eyes flashing.]
[ John is good at finding those points. He strolls right on by them on the regular, not bothered in the slightest who gets their knickers in a twist as he goes about his day. There's a sharpness in the air as tensions rise and it only serves to rile him further. One shot? He's had a couple, for the record.
If Wrench didn't make it so bloody easy he might not be so keen on it. But the old son wants to prance around all peacock feathers or throw a temper fit and he's more than happy to ramp things up further. If they wanted to avoid an altercation John would've been better off going to some other shop, yet here they are. Couple of bastards posturing for nobody other than themselves.
Nevermind the drab state of things. Nevermind the talk of war on their doorstep. The only thing in between them is hot tempers and to hell with all the rest. The quickness and ferocity of the punch still takes him mildly by surprise. It snaps his head back, jaw shut with a clicking of teeth, pain blossoming and rattling everything white for a second. He hits like a bloody mule.
Going back a step or two, he reaches up for the already throbbing spot, and grins when he tastes blood. ] Oh, there we go, old son. Get it out of your system. Bet that feels all better.
[ There's still that charge in the air. Like static making the hair on his arms and back of his neck stand up before a lightning strike but he swallows it down with a mouthful of blood, tonguing the spot. And while John is a liar and a con man he meant what he told the bloke. First one's free.
He rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck as he stands back to his full height, despite the difference between them. Nonplussed, he reaches into his pocket for some paper money to toss on the counter, gesturing at the items. ]
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no subject
If you wanted to check out my arse all you had to do was ask nicely.
[ He takes the bottles, tongue sliding over his teeth before his mouth purses with amusement. ]
So I've noticed. [ He takes a step closer, feigning concern. ] Works in progress take time, pull one away from things that might otherwise hold their attention.
Maybe it was something he was missing from you.
[ A shrug then. ]
no subject
He doesn't reach for his Fluid. Instead, Wrench raises his hands to shape his reply.] Why don't you tell me what exactly it is you think I'm missing?
[Knowing that John won't understand doesn't deter him. It's not an answer he's interested in more than just lording something over the other man's head and making him squirm. He shapes his hands into fists with enough tension to crack his knuckles.]
Don't make me fuck up that pretty face of yours. My partner would be so disappointed.
no subject
There's nothing like a little self-destruction to take the edge off. The other man doesn't use the Fluid and it makes his mouth twitch, lips curling up in a sneer. Cheap shot. It's easy enough to try and work out what he's trying to get across, he thinks. ] Oh, with you puffed up as you are I hardly think I have to.
[ Wrench doesn't want to type? John doesn't have to either. He's faced down bigger and badder things than him. If he wanted to make him squirm he should've tried chatting him up or zip ties instead. He doesn't get the last part but the cracking of his knuckles make a hell of a point.
He casts a derisive glance down towards the other man's clenched fists. ]
Go ahead, sweetheart. First one's on me.
no subject
He knows John is trying to push his buttons. Maybe it's been his intent all along, coming in here and throwing this part of his livelihood in his face. Or maybe the man really didn't know what he was getting into, but now they're both too far gone. No way is Wrench going to let him think he's won. There's enough other shit for the both of them to fight in this town, but the adrenaline is electric. Wrench can practically smell the blood. It's too familiar. This is all too much a part of the fabric of his upbringing.
His fist raises from his side, and he jabs upward at the tender part of the underside of John's jaw. It's enough to rattle his teeth and clamp his mouth closed. Certainly enough to make him think twice about the smart remarks. Wrench huffs air from his nose like a bull, green eyes flashing.]
cw: blood ig
If Wrench didn't make it so bloody easy he might not be so keen on it. But the old son wants to prance around all peacock feathers or throw a temper fit and he's more than happy to ramp things up further. If they wanted to avoid an altercation John would've been better off going to some other shop, yet here they are. Couple of bastards posturing for nobody other than themselves.
Nevermind the drab state of things. Nevermind the talk of war on their doorstep. The only thing in between them is hot tempers and to hell with all the rest. The quickness and ferocity of the punch still takes him mildly by surprise. It snaps his head back, jaw shut with a clicking of teeth, pain blossoming and rattling everything white for a second. He hits like a bloody mule.
Going back a step or two, he reaches up for the already throbbing spot, and grins when he tastes blood. ] Oh, there we go, old son. Get it out of your system. Bet that feels all better.
[ There's still that charge in the air. Like static making the hair on his arms and back of his neck stand up before a lightning strike but he swallows it down with a mouthful of blood, tonguing the spot. And while John is a liar and a con man he meant what he told the bloke. First one's free.
He rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck as he stands back to his full height, despite the difference between them. Nonplussed, he reaches into his pocket for some paper money to toss on the counter, gesturing at the items. ]
You got a bag for all that?