Log:Pushing Buttons

Pushing Buttons
"Sorry, did I hurt your friend?"
Participants Teagan and Glitch	29 August, 2017 Teagan picks a fight.
Location R02
Various factors make the arcade at this mall a little isolated. The location upstairs, the buffet-pay model that sees groups enter and exit and allows few strays...and right now, the especially late hour. Deep within the dark recesses of the establishment, Glitch stands in front of one of the myriad glowing screen-altars, its light bathing his pixellated features as his hands fly across the controls. Five bucks to pass the time. Teagan's face reflects the neon lights strangely once they pay their way inside; they wander through the retro consoles, eyes sliding their gaze over the lit-up displays. A ratty black backpack hangs from one shoulder, and the Mirrorskin's expression literally shifts and changes, since at the moment they're not thinking about keeping a fixed face. They absently kick one of the games on their way past, the satisfying thump loud in the near-empty arcade. Glitch's pixellated features make one of their eyebrows rise, and the Darkling slides in that direction. And then they're over his shoulder, looming silently, watching. Personal space is for other people. Glitch has attention on the stranger right away, his head snapping around as he hears the thump of a kick. There's a moment taken to assess the other...a very similar bag hanging off Glitch's shoulders, the butt end of a tape-wrapped baseball bat handle not quite hidden by it. The cabinet Glitch stands at has bright red sides with dramatic white stripes, the words "NEO-GEO MVS" printed in striking block letters. On its screen, saturated colors and bright phosphor dots portray a classic scene of samurai drama. Two swordsmen facing each other in front of the crashing surf, weapons drawn. He doesn't say anything, focused for the moment on the mirrorskin and what they might do from this close vantage spot. The lettering doesn't seem to draw much attention from Teagan -- they couldn't seem to care less what game Glitch is playing, save that looking over his shoulder is their introduction point. Their Summer Mantle -- all broiling heat and the crackle of distant radio static, patters of gunfire -- dies down as they lean over Glitch's shoulder. The game isn't the point, no. "Funny meeting a face like that here," they rasp, amusedly so. If there's something inside their backpack, it doesn't stick out like Glitch's bat, but the way they carry it -- low and to the side -- gives the impression there might be something in there they want to get to real fast if they need to. Glitch lets out a slow huff of breath. His face flickers and scrambles every so often, even as the expression beneath it stays stacking, numbers and letters briefly obscuring bits and pieces of his brow and lips. His steely gaze turns away from Teagan and fixes on the screen. When the beginning of the match is announced over the arcade cabinet's speakers, his hands blur into motion. The slap of them against the joystick and buttons is audible, a symphony of clicks and taps. On screen, one of the swordsmen dashes forward under Glitch's control, launching into a long and elaborate series of brutal attacks and literally juggling the opponent into the air with strike after strike from his pixellated blade. After this has continued for a while, Glitch slowly swivels his head towards Teagan, while his hands continue doing their thing and the opponent on screen continues being brutalized. "It makes sense," he beeps out in his tinny voice. "Would be the place to find someone like me. If someone was looking." There's not much approaching warmth in the words. There's amusement, if nothing else, in the dark pits that are Teagan's shadowed eyes. They don't reflect light, they draw light in, and the shadows below their eyes only contribute to the feeling that one's staring into black holes when looking at them. They glance back at the screen, huffing amusement. "Well, I wasn't. I was just bored, and couldn't sleep, some asshole fixed the streetlight by where I usually park my car. Lucky you." Their weight shifts back a little bit, just out of his personal space bubble. "You as good with the thing in your bag as you are with smacking buttons?" As if Glitch is the only one hitting buttons; Teagan just presses the more metaphorical ones. Glitch furrows his pixellated eyebrows, as if no longer sure where the innuendo's headed. The step back has his shoulders relaxing a bit too. "Almost," he answers, slaping the controls around a few more times to finish the match. With a large, sweeping strike, his opponent is cut clean in half amid geysers of cartoon blood. Turning away from the machine, he leans slightly against it, posture light. Clearly not putting much weight on it at all. "Not here," he adds, looking around at the machines as if they were onlookers. His gaze stills on the one that was kicked earlier. Their expression shifts -- literally, their face likes to slide, moving around like liquid mercury -- and they shift their weight back to their back foot, watching the match end. Who knows where Teagan's innuendos are going? Sometimes, not even Teagan, let's be totally honest. "Well, good. I'd hate to think you thought you could do all that, and then ... it was just in the game." Their smile is a little too broad, corners pulling up too far. The Joker wants a smile like Teagan's. "Then where?" Their head tilts back toward where Glitch's eyes go, and they add, "Sorry, did I hurt your friend?" Darklings are weird. Glitch shoves away and right past the mirrorskin, nearly knocking shoulders, a hand up on his pack. He takes a few steps towards the door before looking over his shoulder. "Out back. The streets, the alleys. It's where this kind of thing usually happens anyway." He runs a hand slowly over the control panel of the kicked machine, a faded thing, with only bits of the vibrant art that once festooned its side remaining, most of it peeled away long ago. "It's disrespectful," is all he says about that, looking up to meet Teagan's gaze. There's a squint. "...you're not with them," he says, as if just now realizing it. "You really are just looking for...fun?" "Eh. Usually go further than that. Cops have been prowling here lately." Teagan's shoulders roll a little bit at that. "I don't want to make trouble for the permanent locals." They watch Glitch pet the machine as if it's, well, a pet, and their eyebrows rise slowly. "Yeah, okay." Disrespect for the machine doesn't seem to bother them much, but when Glitch squints at them, they raise their hands, palms split by the scars that mark a Squire of the Broken Bough. Ugly, thick things horizontal across each palm. "Oh, fuck no, I ain't with anybody but me," they answer. "And yeah, it's either for fun or for duty and you're not on any lists I've been given, so for fun."