#[i havent gotten to write red getting mad for reals yet umm. teehee.]

[themissingnumbers]

@blue-tearss - [previously...]

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Red seems to visibly bristle at the other's words, the corners of his twisted grin twitching, spreading further, growing darker. He huffs- half coughing, half laughing, spitting saliva and blood that he quickly tries to choke back down.

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"Hah--" he croaks, wiping a hand over his face, willing himself to speak clearly, coolly. "Way to not answer my question, asshole. You managed to babble off every fuckin' thought in that head EXCEPT the one I asked for, didntcha?"

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He folds his arms behind his back and paces closer to the other, feigning a darling, innocent expression. He's not very good at it. "All the same, I guess it doesn't really matter. You're such an open book, it's laughable. I know that look. I know those tricks. I can see it in your fucking EYES. You're DESPERATE." The aggressive environment seems to grow more and more restless. The stinging, numbing, biting, ripping, tearing of the very earth beneath Blue- if you could even call it that anymore- clings tighter, digs deeper, threatens to sink its teeth in, draw blood, tear something away that is much more fundamental than flesh. It remains just a threat, but undoubtedly, it still hurts. Wants to make that hurt known. Wants to make him know, fear, how much worse it could get. Wants him to remember just whose turf he has intruded in on.

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Red is either unaffected or uncaring of the environments growing agitation. "Desperate for something to change," he chimes, his voice a mocking, sing-song tone, "something new, 'cause pulling shit like this will surely give you SOMETHING to feel, won't it~?" His gaze turns all the more intense, and through a gag, the childish tone drops completely. His next words, half-gargled and low as a whisper, sound more like the spitting snarls of an animal. "You must think you're real hot shit, must think you're REAL fucking clever. You found something NEW to play with, something much more tangible to rip to pieces than your own predictable, dusty-ass, BROKEN-ass game, right? Don't think I missed the BLOOD on your hands, you son of a bitch."

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In the blink of an eye- an instance of a single frame of motion, Red stands inches away from Blue, blood red eyes burning into ocean blue, before his hands snap forward to grab him by the collar. Contact with Red's hands, even just to his clothes, sends that boiling, burning, electric rush of fuzzy and numbing pain through Blue's chest- the bite of Glitch City concentrated and amplified through one person. "I would personally recommend that you stand the fuck down and stop talking like that before something bad happens. Because I'm starting to get the idea that you really, really don't know what you're messing with." Red practically spits in his face, words laced with malice and an unspoken threat.

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