Viktor + Trip

[firstinlastout]

Trip came in with batteries and didn't get nearly enough to keep him going. People had batteries, now. They didn't need his supply.

Maddie knew how to sign so he'd chatted her up and left her with a warm smile, one with teeth.

So the new spot in the market. The one that didn't even look open except for the boy sitting there.

Trip stalked up and jutted his chin toward him aggressively, then began to sign, furiously fast.

Who do you think you are? This is my business. Where are you even getting batteries? I control them. Me.

He smacked his chest hard to enunciate clearly.

I need to eat, manbitch. Fuck you. Go away

Comments

[fifthbeatle]

When a man approaches looking like he's about to murder Viktor on sight, Viktor doesn't know what to think. His powers do -- they grab onto the sound of his heart. The drone of the tuning fork whines. A couple of tables propped up in the corner cascade to the floor.

Viktor grabs hold of himself from within, a sort of hug to his inner child, who will no longer stand for this kind of treatment, even if he doesn't know what is being said.

"Slow down," Viktor says, calm and patient though the blood rushing in his ears is making it difficult to remain so. "I can't understand you. I've got some paper on the table over there." He points.

Does this man need help? Does Viktor know him? What possibly could have made him this angry?

[firstinlastout]

Anger is like a Saint chanting in his heart, the organ pounding a steady, driving beat. Every muscle in his shoulders is tight, primed and ready for him to really lay into him.

But of course the fucker didn't understand. It wasn't like many people understood before, and now...

Tip purses his lips and huffs out his nose, a stallion ready to break.

He takes the time to call Viktor a fucking idiot before he snatches the pen and begins to write. The pen flies across the page, everything capitalized and neatly written. Strangely close to lettering in comics.

STOP SELLING FUCKING BATTERIES. I NEED TO EAT. YOU'RE MAKING IT HARD FOR PEOPLE WHO DON'T WANT TO LIVE HERE TO SURVIVE. WHERE ARE YOU EVEN FINDING THEM? FIND SOMETHING ELSE.

He slammed the pen down and thrust the paper at Viktor, accusation on his furrowed brow.

[fifthbeatle]

As a person who killed a dozen or so nannies, Viktor thinks this dude needs to chill the fuck out.

Since that's not helpful, Viktor breathes into his discontent, letting it turn down the corners of his features. He looks back up at the man.

"There's been a misunderstanding. We're not trying to put you out of business," Viktor says, calm as he can through the mild rush of adrenaline, the biting edge of a reminder that he truly does not like being shouted at -- however it manifests.

"Will you sit? Please? And we can talk? I'm Viktor."

[firstinlastout]

Trip was heated, but years of experience had taught him it was stupid to pick a fight when you had to write every fucking insult down. By the time he did that, he didn't want to open his mouth quite so bad.

Lips screwed together and nostrils flaring, Trip grabbed the chair and sat down, hard and petulant.

He held up his hands and gave Viktor a pointed look. And held up both hands in question, then gestured to the skinny kid to give him an explanation as to why he wouldn't eat.

And still, he hadn't made so much of a sound except the huff of breath through his nose.

[fifthbeatle]

No name, no patience, very little benefit of the doubt, and they're working with a language barrier, as ASL was not one of the seven languages Hargreeves required them to learn. This is a task for someone else -- but it shouldn't be Five. So, it's Viktor.

For a second, he misses being invisible.

"Five and I are only gathering things to help people," Viktor explains. "We could help each other."

[firstinlastout]

Trip took a deep breath and his exhale was the loudest he'd been. He was still pissed, but this time when he took up the pen and began to write, it was more fluid with a calmer hand.

HOW

He turned the page so Viktor could see, then looked at him for a moment. Then he pulled the paper back to keep writing.

I find things. Trading his how I eat. I can't stay here but I can trade. They need batteries and I have them. Pick anything else.

[fifthbeatle]

Is this a trade secret? How the fuck is Viktor supposed to know? Business partners should probably talk about these things. There's probably a lot of things they should talk about.

Viktor doesn't answer right away. He stares at the guy carefully, relieved when he takes the paper up again.

"I'm not the one who gets them. My partner does." Business partner. He means business partner. No other title is relevant, and it's most certainly not another thing he and Five should probably talk about. "I'll talk to him about the batteries, if that's what you like. I think we can come to a better solution." He pauses. "Why can't you stay here?"

[firstinlastout]

No one had ever asked him why he said no to Maddie every time he came in. Why he couldn't do it.

Trip studied him a moment, then twisted the paper to him.

IT'S TOO DANGEROUS. I'LL BRING DOWN THE STADIUM ON ACCIDENT. BETTER TO AVOID PEOPLE.

He gives Viktor time to read, time to wonder why, time to look at him with a question in his eyes.

"Hi," Trip whispered as softly as he possibly could.

The table with the paper cracked in half.

[fifthbeatle]

A brow twitches up in surprise as two sides of the table Five and he pilfered from a storage room separate. There are plenty more, but they're heavy and maybe stolen.

Huh.

"How did you do that?" Viktor asks. He thinks he may know, but the odds are slim in this apocalypse.

[firstinlastout]

Trip tapped his throat, then swallowed to accentuate his adam's apple.

Then he shrugged.

THE OLDER I GET, THE WORSE IT GETS. IF I STAY HERE, IT WOULD TAKE ONE SLIP AND EVERYONE WOULD GET CRUSHED. SO I STAY AWAY AND COME TO TRADE THEN LEAVE.