Rick Sanchez

The Travellers

"Punch, you need to fucking relax." Sucker frowned. The same could be said for Cash, but he didn't say that. If he had to guess, the author was coming to terms with himself and Sucker wasn't going to judge him harshly for it--he was just thankful he'd put the gun away.

The offer of a firearm floored him, and he stared at the other, conflicted, until Ved stepped between the two of them. Being the subject of one of the thousands of arguments that went down between Ved and Cash wasn't how he'd like to spending his afternoon, but it gave him a chance to think on the offer.

The answer was no, he knew that right away. And it wasn't that he didn't appreciate the sentiment.

First, if he did accept, he'd be causing more conflict with the group than what a long-range weapon was worth. He would be de-facto siding with Cash on this issue if he said yes, and being ever the neutral party (say it with me now: 'I am Sweden. I am Sweden.') Sucker didn't take sides. Moreover, Ved made it clear that the concept of Sucker having a gun would bother him, and he didn't know if that thought carried over to the others. Having a dangerous weapon wasn't as important to him as keeping the peace.

Second, it wouldn't solve the issue Cash was trying to address. While Sucker was shocked and slightly touched that Cash had perceived some of his hurt feelings, (not that Cash wasn't smart, but he lacked...tact, and wasn't much of a team player), another weapon wasn't going to work as a magic pill to fix everything he'd internalized over the years. If Sucker had really wanted a gun, he would've been able to find one. He wasn't exactly sure what he wanted, but an easy fix would be more simply--something to do.

Thirdly, and most importantly: he didn't like using firearms. They brought back memories he didn't ever intend to relive, if he could avoid it.

He watched on, helpless in this affair, as the adults verbally sparred with each other. He shrugged his apology to Cash.

"You know the rules, one each. I'll be on my rounds. You wanna come with me, Punch?" Amber, God bless her soul, met hell in the form of being argued over with food and salvation. Giving the backpacks of precious food a quick once-over, he turned and gave her a grateful look and nodded.

"And you clearly know what a kid needs, seeing how well you've done with your own life."

And on that happy note, he winced, turned heel, and walked away.

@Aphelion@Billsomething

The Travellers

Sucker stuck his head out of his tent, about to ask what was up, but paused at the sight of Cash's drawn gun.

It worried him when the former drug lord pulled this kind of shit. It was in jest, probably, and he didn't think the man would ever actually shoot any of them (or at least he hoped not) but the principle of his revolver being trained Spencer made the teenager's throat constrict. Cash's temper was hair-trigger. He didn't want to think what would happen to the group if he ever fired.

The other vehicle was new, too, and he hoped he wasn't going to have to ride in it.

He shot a nervous look towards Ved, like, 'what's going on?', before approaching the car like a timid deer.

"Yeah?" He asked Cash, voice skeptical.

@hagroden@Billsomething

Clash of the Cliques: Class Warfare

@Blackmist16 I always liked them. Played one in a table top of Dragon Age before, but I ended up blowing up a tavern with a fire spell and killing us all. My friends never forgave me.

Anyways good luck, dude!

Clash of the Cliques: Class Warfare

<Snipped quote by Rick Sanchez>

How does my character look anyways, and I still don't understand what you meant by Egg?

@Blackmist16

Heh, egg was just an insert for "post". GM made a huge post yesterday.

Also I couldn't tell you as far as the character goes. -shrug-

Clash of the Cliques: Class Warfare

Uh where's the GM? Or has this almost died and I put my character in for no reason...

@Blackmist16

They posted a pretty huge egg in the IC yesterday, I'm pretty sure they're still around.

Clash of the Cliques: Class Warfare

The world was blurring, the grainy textures in the table (what wasn't shadowed by her head) melting into an array of fantastic colors--greens and purples and blues. Lots and lots of blues. Her island was coming back into focus, though distant and obscured every two seconds by the navy waves. As her body became lighter and she lost her sense of balance, Summers was rather suddenly swimming; land was growing closer by the second. The current was pulling her in.

Tiki Bar, Ahoy!

"Ssss--"

What.

"Ssssstatic."

"Snrrrrrkkk--murr?"

Summers groaned into the table, a silent 'fuck off' muffled by the laminated fiberboard in her face. She batted weakly at Tixhol--missing, she couldn't see what she was doing--she'd get that girl yet. Damn lizard and her damn sharpies....

Vaguely aware that a conversation was going on around her, she drifted in a dreamy sea of thoughts. Having only eaten bits and pieces of her burger, she was still hungry; she'd like to see if that bar sold anything besides coconut concoctions. This was a dream after all, so maybe she'd be able to imagine herself a pizzeria.

A rapping from elsewhere rattled the shore just as she crawled onto a coast-line boulder, and dreamworld blurred out once more--she had been so close this time! Feeling a little bit murderous, Summers roused slowly and put a hand on the table to steady herself when she sat up.

"Eeeey Mama," She wiped and an eye and yawned, then turned towards the person to blame for her state of consciousness with a withering glare, eyes like a lamprey's mouth.

Charro, all copper and olive tones, had put on the cockiness of a 1970's, pompadoured John Travolta, and was directing that grin towards her. So, flirt mode. Payback could wait, it's better when they're not expecting it anyways--this was a rare opportunity to play. She returned with her own lopsided grin, the rows of teeth in her eyes softening into a Babushka doll of yellow and orange hearts, and winked.

"Well then, coppa', better get the handcuffs."

The Travellers

Sucker suppressed a groan at Ved's horribly sappy reply, to be polite. Honestly, he could practically see the man wiping the one bittersweet tear from his helmet and congratulating him like, "Well done, son."

He felt a bit singled out as the youngest, as the least educated, as the only one besides Jay who didn't possess a long-range weapon (or throwing knives)--and heck, she could do a bit more with that sword than what he could do with a pocket knife. Inadequacies.

Typically, it didn't bother him; he knew everyone's experience with life varied, and he knew that his personal experiences had made him more mature than those his age in some ways, and less in others--like having a very loose grasp on the concept of reproduction and not knowing that media used to be produced for those types of bodily functions at all, but also knowing how survive off of a gallon of water in a tanker for a week. Like accepting death as an inevitable but non-malevolent part of life and knowing when to simply endure, but not knowing what half of the words Cash said actually meant.

What bothered him was the insinuation that he was just a kid--with the hair ruffling. And the looks.

He appreciated them all, he really did, but despite not being able to read a book he could read people very well. The status of his relationship with the group was uncomfortable for him--not that he was complaining, by any means. He wasn't hungry and he had actual friends, rather than just fellow gang members--but having grown up without a family, the surrogate...ness-type-older-brother/sister spiel was unfamiliar and awkward territory. He wasn't sure how he felt about it.

To quell the feeling of uselessness that was bothering him for what must have been the seventh time this week, he shrugged and asked no one in particular, "Anything I can do?"

His eyebrow twitched at the sound of an approaching vehicle.

Clash of the Cliques: Class Warfare

Is it just me, or is it pretty quiet in here?

@Lord Santa

I noticed that too. Anyways, I'll probably be posting in an hour or so, I'm still revising my thoughts.

There's no Safety in this Unknown World (Crossover RP)

He looked over as the ugly green guy talked with Tails.

@Zerofighter

rude.jpg

There's no Safety in this Unknown World (Crossover RP)

His smile was a little bit more genuine now, glad his words had worked their magic--or his chips, either way.

Mort took a Dorito and flicked it into the air, deciding to show off; his tongue shot out of his mouth and snaked upwards three feet or so, catching the Dorito and retracting to his mouth like a rubber band. He chewed, and grinned.

"You don't have Doritos in Mobius? I wouldn't say they're the best, but they're pretty good. I think pizza cheats them out of...fourth place, maybe?" He shrugged. Considering he had no qualms with eating bugs or small lizards, live, he probably wasn't the best judge of flavor.

He noticed the scary looking dude looking at them and raised a brow, wondering if his tongue move wasn't low-key enough.

@Blackmist16