tearing clothes off is half the fun. anyway, 3pm. go get whatever you need to done.
[As promised, Dodger will get a Talon room ready for them. Nothing special, just enough open space for them to let loose with their powers. He also brought alcohol for himself, a bottle of whiskey that he's drinking like it's water while he waits for Bakugo to show up.]
then you better wear something you never wanna see again.
[Bakugo shows up at 3, his usual scowling expression set on his face and wrapped in black workout sweats. With a jacket. The halls are fucking freezing out there, sullying his mood even grouchier.]
These assholes turned the heaters off on purpose!! Do they want us to freeze to death going places?!
[Dodger better have the heat going in their training room!]
[Dodger honestly hadn't entirely noticed how cold it's been - but the sight of the jacket makes something soften in his expression. Even if he tries to hide it as soon as Bakugo starts talking.]
Probably trying to get people to huddle together. Again.
[It's equally cold in here, just because Dodger figured it would be better if they're working up a sweat. And for now he doesn't make a move to correct it, but he does offer his whiskey to Bakugo. He did in fact leave behind the few things he cares about - he's just wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, and he's stored his necklace in a locker for safe-keeping until this is over.]
[Huh? The hell's getting soft on this guy's face? He jerks an eyebrow towards his bangs, lips curling as if he's about to snarl- then backs off when Dodger focuses again. Che, doesn't need someone going "aw" at his bundled up state. He clicks his tongue irritably when Dodger lands logic on the head.]
No shit. Who wants ice cubes on their fucking neck?! [Sure they can warm those ice cubes up, but you have to put them on warmth first! Bakugo lifts his hand, ready to brush aside the whiskey... but then snags it from the man's hand and brings it to his lips. He's had Fireballs before, and a few shots of wine. What's the harm in-]
GUH! [It hits him like a fucking rock. Right in the throat and sinuses! Bakugo sputters slightly-- but swallows --and pulls a face as he glares death into the bottle.] What the hell is that?!
[He's not a lightweight; he just... doesn't drink much because usually it's fucking gross!]
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Date: 1/2/26 14:54 (UTC)anyway, 3pm. go get whatever you need to done.
[As promised, Dodger will get a Talon room ready for them. Nothing special, just enough open space for them to let loose with their powers. He also brought alcohol for himself, a bottle of whiskey that he's drinking like it's water while he waits for Bakugo to show up.]
no subject
Date: 1/2/26 15:14 (UTC)[Bakugo shows up at 3, his usual scowling expression set on his face and wrapped in black workout sweats. With a jacket. The halls are fucking freezing out there, sullying his mood even grouchier.]
These assholes turned the heaters off on purpose!! Do they want us to freeze to death going places?!
[Dodger better have the heat going in their training room!]
no subject
Date: 1/2/26 15:43 (UTC)Probably trying to get people to huddle together. Again.
[It's equally cold in here, just because Dodger figured it would be better if they're working up a sweat. And for now he doesn't make a move to correct it, but he does offer his whiskey to Bakugo. He did in fact leave behind the few things he cares about - he's just wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, and he's stored his necklace in a locker for safe-keeping until this is over.]
no subject
Date: 1/2/26 15:51 (UTC)No shit. Who wants ice cubes on their fucking neck?! [Sure they can warm those ice cubes up, but you have to put them on warmth first! Bakugo lifts his hand, ready to brush aside the whiskey... but then snags it from the man's hand and brings it to his lips. He's had Fireballs before, and a few shots of wine. What's the harm in-]
GUH! [It hits him like a fucking rock. Right in the throat and sinuses! Bakugo sputters slightly-- but swallows --and pulls a face as he glares death into the bottle.] What the hell is that?!
[He's not a lightweight; he just... doesn't drink much because usually it's fucking gross!]