He knew who it was alright, and maybe he was more embarrassed than her considering he was literally dancing in the nude. In fact- that was a habit he had hoped nobody would ever find out about, something typically reserved to his apartment when going to his shower. Must had been a good day- well not anymore of course.
At realizing who it was before they both took action his face went beat red. What should he do- cover his eyes out of respect or cover himself out of dignity? Why not both! He used one hand to cover himself and the other going over his glasses to cover his eyes- going to turn and run. How in the world he was going to get back his towel like this was unknown to him- he was more concerned about
A loud yelp coming from the man when he did that action and running back the way he came. “My god- my god I’m so sorry Aide I didn’t know anybody else would be in here at this hour! Oh god please don’t punch me for this later-!” he spilled out as he went back. Of course being the clumsy man he was it was just delaying the inevitable due to his choice of running on wet floors- slipping and falling onto his butt effectively knocking his glasses off in the process. Nearsighted as he was this would make it very hard for him to try and find his own towel that he tossed who knows where- him not having payed much attention to where he had tossed it when he danced in.
Were she not mortified and trying to keep her identity hidden, she might have begun cursing immediately. No one was supposed to come in here! Not at this time! Especially not someone who worked for Administration and actually knew her. It was almost too painful to think about, but all that was important right now was getting to a towel and fleeing the premises. She couldn’t turn around, though, not for fear of Arthur seeing her face.
She could hear his sound of surprise, and the sound of footsteps, but before they could reach the door, the man evidently slipped, landing effectively on his tailbone. She turned to see that he was alright, noting that his glasses had flown off somewhere, leaving him groping blindly about. He’d said her name, though, meaning the game was up.
Without a word, she rinsed her hair, quickly shutting off the water and moving to retrieve her towel before Arthur could find his glasses and see again. She didn’t bother to dry off, wrapping the towel around her and bending to retrieve the man’s glasses, before cautiously moving towards him. Turning her face away and closing her eyes tightly, the Spy bent to hold out the round lenses.
It was yet another late night. His employer forcing him to go on a four month business trip then expecting him to catch up on his work as soon as he got back? Idiot the lot of them! He had four months of work to go through that had been sitting on his desk when he had gotten back so late nights were mandatory now. With late nights comes a smelly Arthur- which he would have nothing of.
Being a part of administration was definitely a boon for him at times, especially when it allowed him to use the showers freely. He didn’t even think anybody would be in the showers this late considering it was actually- pretty late. In all honesty a cold shower would wake him right up since more tea wouldn’t do any good. One can only run on so much caffeine without having to go to the bathroom every 20 minutes.
So there he was, waltzing in the hall with just a towel on- not having a care in the world since he expected most to be asleep. Only ones watching him were the cameras- maybe that’s why administration thought he was an idiot. He had a song stuck in his head and he hummed as he danced- twirling into the door of the showers.
As soon as he got in he was too distracted by his own humming to hear the shower going.He pulled off his towel and tossed it to a bench by the wall- him waltzing around in his full naked glory and his loud humming accompanying it. His dance being towards a shower until he noticed someone else out of the corner of his eye when he opened them. Was that? Nooo- it couldn’t be.
Berezi could feel her eyes flutter, tiredness filling her from the inside out. The long week weighed down on her, as did the hard physical labor she had just had to do, and as soon as she was finished, here, she would probably find a safe place to sleep for the night. She ran her hands through her hair absentmindedly, massaging in the standard shampoo. To feel clean was something she never took for granted, not where she was from and what she had been through.
She was just rinsing and reaching for the conditioner when she heard a noise over the running water, almost a humming kind of sound, but that was not possible, right? She was the only one down here at this time of night, correct? She always was the only one down her. She clasped her hands across her chest despite herself, running her hands up and down her arms. If someone were to walk in on her… She didn’t know what she’d do. Probably try to run.
Berezi quickly began combing conditioner through her hair, eager to leave and get clothes on before anyone could see her, when she saw the door open. Arthur, naked as his name day, came dancing in, a sight she hadn’t really wanted to see in her lifetime. Quickly, she pressed against the wall, unable to flee while he was so close to the door without being seen.
At least here he could not see her front, and by hiding her face, all he knew was that there was a shy, skinny person that he’d interrupted. With any luck, he’d be considerate enough to give her a chance to escape without asking any questions.
The BLU Team had won for three weeks in a row, much to the Spy’s chagrin. Was it partly her fault? Had they been winning before she had arrived to affect the power structure? Was she not doing her job properly? Even now, hauling mutilated bodies and parts into a wheelbarrow, unable to carry them by hand, she felt that something had fallen out of place. She’d done especially poorly in this past week and this was her punishment: corpse duty.
Each time she hauled a body off, she felt her stomach drop, and if it were not for her focus on secrecy, she would never even think to go near her own corpse. She glanced down at the glassy green eyes of herself, charred and blasted into pieces, and shuddered, feeling her breakfast revolt. Berezi swallowed it, not wanting to appear weak.
It certainly wasn’t her first time dealing with dead bodies or blood, and they would be thrown in the incinerator soon enough, but the smell was overpowering, and the sight of her own mangled body was enough to make even the coldest person even slightly uneasy. But it was her assigned duty for this week and she would perform it without complaint.
Her mind drifted to strategies and battle plans for the next week, letting her shift her focus from bending to pick up randomly dispersed limbs and pieces of flesh to how she would more efficiently create more corpses of the enemy. The mask she had received the day before came to the forefront, but shock value could not be an effective strategy if she did not know how to use it.
When her job was done, the Spy dusted her hands off, disliking how she smelled of blood and rot and bodily fluids, and she made a beeline for the showers, to wash the stink from herself. Normally she would be more wary, as the showers were not only communal, but unisex as well, but by this time, everyone had cleaned up and gone up the stairs to the living areas. If they needed to shower, they would use the gender segregated bathrooms there.
It was her plan, in fact, to use the showers no one would look for her in, so as to not give away secrets she would prefer to remain hidden. It had worked, so far, so what reason was there to change? She slipped out of her clothing (mask, gloves, and all), piling it in front of her locker, and wrapped a towel around herself, moving towards the showers to turn on the water. She didn’t even wait for it to warm, knowing that it was probably a long-shot that there was any hot water left, being the last to clean. She was used to it, all that mattered was getting clean at this point.
"What are you doing?" The Spy bats at the grey-face, scowling.
The inability to verbalize your emotions or lack of emotional response. Difficulty in experiencing, expressing, and describing emotion.
A failure to express feelings either verbally or non-verbally, especially when talking about issues that would normally require an emotional response. P
oor modulation of feelings, significantly reduced intensity in emotional expression. (via voidii
"i hardly ever see any happy spies"
lets change that.
The Face of Terror
It was never known where the box came from. There was no knock on the door, no note, no fingerprints, nothing. She couldn’t trace its path and nothing was caught on what cameras she could look at. One moment there was nothing, and the next there was a box resting just outside her door. Obviously it was meant for her, as there were no other occupants in rooms near her. She almost wanted to shake it and ask the entire base whose idea of a joke this was, but instead she tucked it under one arm and retreated into her room, locking the door behind her.
The box itself was nothing to sniff at. Expertly crafted from a dark wood with a fine grain, she could only wonder what kind of lavish item was inside. It was with utmost care and precision that she pried the top open to peer at what was inside. Her first notion was that someone had decided to play a trick on her, sending her something like this. The golden eyes of a red devil stared up at her, mouth gaping open to reveal white fangs that resembled tusks.
She was almost afraid to touch it, to pick it up, for fear some kind of trap was rigged to the mask, but her curiosity. She picked it up with deliberate slowness, gloved fingers running across the smooth wood. It was well crafted, even more-so than the box it came in, and this only added to the Spy’s confusion. Who would send her such a gift, if that was what it was meant to be?
Trying it on only seemed to be the next logical step, and she moved to face the mirror on her desk, leaning down and holding the mask over her face, before deciding to tie the strings behind her head. For the craft behind it, even she had to admit that the concept of this image appearing near one on the battlefield would inspire fear in even the fiercest of warriors. She could use that kind of reaction.
With a deep breath, she returned the mask to its box and stowed it away in a drawer until the next battle. She would keep it a surprise, to inspire even more fear within her enemies, to not know who or what was happening until it was too late. She would keep a close eye on it, however, just to be safe. Until she knew who had presented the gift, she could not be sure to trust it.
Your muse sees mine up for sale at an auction. How much would your muse pay to buy them and why?
oooh okay, awesome. congrats on ur purchases!!
((Thank. c: And my friend who just got and painted his to make it more realistic offered to paint mine, too! And I might alter it, too, so I can pee out of it!))
oh. for drag purposes, or personal reasons? :O
((Both. uwu I like being a boy sometimes.))