Solomon stopped for a brief moment, hands clasping the rusted railing. The ached extremely bad, blood trailing down the creases in his hands. The rope really had done a number, his palms looking incredibly patchy and gruesome. They stung like hell, but he couldn’t let that hinder him now. If he let go… well… it would be a long way down.
He gave a diminutive smile at the man’s words. Although they were muffled, he could hear the affirmative murmurs and compliments. In truth, that “lair” was technically Solo’s room. His real lair was at the bottom of this ladder, down another tunnel, curving through a set of stairs, until you finally reached an iron door needing an ID in order to enter. Solomon guessed it would be another half-mile from where he was.
Although he didn’t move, just rested there on the ladder panting like a dog. Part of him rose with the joy and success of escaping, while the other part wanted to just… go slowly up the ladder, back into the room, and…
He shook the thought aside. For now, he’d just let Phantom make the next move.
Valentine wandered around the room for a few more minutes, sighing a bit and collapsing onto the bed. "It's not as fancy as I thought it'd be." His voice was loud enough that Padlock might be able to hear it, if he was sticking around for some reason. Which… he wouldn't be, but Val liked to pretend. "But I guess villainy really doesn't pay, huh?" He laughed quietly. "I dunno, are you even a villain? It's not like you hurt people, not all that often anyways."
The guys he worked for weren't quite so picky choosy, but it was the right thing to do, wasn't it? The government wanted to help people, they wanted to take care of their citizens. "And you're nice to me too, even if you never take off that stupid helmet. Y'know, I think I've had friends who were meaner to me than you are? Isn't that crazy?"
Certainly, Solomon replied in his head. He smiled at the way Phantom talked so freely. It was refreshing, considering their old encounters used to last a only few moments before Padlock was up and running again. However, it was a long time before Pad had gotten any actual leads that needed to be taken back and retained. It was unfortunate for him, but lucky that he had nothing to protect, so he could actually linger around Phantom as long as he wanted.
He crawled up the bars silently, just so he could hear better. He took a free hand, removing his helmet just so the words wouldn’t be so muffled. After all, he really didn’t care, just wanted to be as stubborn as he could. His black hair was pushed up and over, out of his eyes for once in his life. He gave a small smile, desperately trying to ignore the burning pain in his hands.
"And… god, I dunno why I'm even talking, it's not like there's anything around to help me." He sighed, rolling over onto his stomach. "But I guess it helps me focus. Easier to keep the train of thought rolling if you can talk through it, in my head it gets all…" He paused for a second, thinking. "I dunno, it gets all tangled up and then something else gets in there and everything explodes apart." It was worse as a kid, but even now he had trouble keeping focused. Even sitting still for long enough to chatter was starting to make him antsy so he started moving again, returning to the desk.
"God, you've got way too many boxes in here, you know that? Completely ridiculous, especially since this isn't even a real lair." He pushed one of the boxes aside, reaching for the one behind it, and… was that a latch? "I don't even know how you managed to get out of here, you're probably tucked into one of the desk drawers or something." He felt around, grinning as he managed to open the door a crack.
(Just so you know, I'm going to be off for a few hours so I can call my friends!)
Solomon’s breath caught in his throat and he dropped his helmet in a faulty attempt to regain his balance. It fell through the air, taking a moment before Solo heard a deafening crack. It was broken, no doubt, and now Phantom was shoving side boxes. This was not ideal, by any stretch.
Luckily, Solo had prepared more than this. He was that clever, at least.
He took a small rope from his belt, tying it loosely around one of the bars, but just tight enough that it could hold him. The second the latch opened slightly, Solo was already gone, scaling down into the shadows with just a hint of his blue eyes still visible. His hands left trails of blood on the rope, and he had to bite down on his tongue to keep from letting out a whimper.
He finally hit the bottom, seeing his helmet in shards. The vizor was terribly shattered, all of his hard work on the infrared material gone.
Damnit, he yelled internally. That was then followed by a stream of seemingly worse profanities.
He shook his head, beginning to sprint a few yards down the tunnel before taking off his jacket. As he ran, he took off his shirt as well, tearing pieces of fabric from it and carelessly wrapping it around his hands. Perhaps that would help the bleeding, but he wasn’t that faithful, considering the rope he just used had torn the palms up even worse.
He kept running, leaving all his helmet, jacket, and ripped up shirt behind.
(That’s alright! Take all the time you need)
Valentine lit up as he heard the crack of something hitting the ground, tossing the hatch open just fast enough to catch the pitter patter of feet running across the ground. To say he was thrilled would be an understatement. He was down the later as fast as humanly possible, hopping down the last few rungs and sprinting after Padlock.
Normally his opponent might stand a chance, but it was a straight shot from here to the place where the tunnels started to branch out and he wasn't slowing down to rip his shirt or curse his bad luck. No, he was practically a machine, focused for once as he raced after the figure in front of him. The helmet less, jacket less, shirtless figure—that couldn't be right.
His steps faltered as his mind flicked back to what he'd seen at the bottom of the latter—torn clothes and a shattered helmet. Had Padlock fallen? Did something happen? Abrupt panic sliced through him and he picked up the pace as much as he could, only letting out a sigh of relief as he bowled into Padlock in a poorly thought out tackle that sent both of them sprawling.
When he finally managed to gather himself he had the upper hand, Padlock's shoulders pinned beneath his hands and torso pinned where he was sitting on it. His very bare torso. "What happened to you?" His eyes flicked up to Padlock's face as he spoke and damn, the man was gorgeous. Normally he'd add a slew of follow up questions but he was too busy leaning in to get a better look at the man beneath him. "And… are you even Padlock? Because if you're not, this is gonna be real hard to explain."
Padlock was too busy huffing and puffing to even register the footsteps behind him, let alone turn around and find out who it was. Though, who else could it be? The crash of the helmet was bound to get anyone’s attention.
Suddenly, a brute force tackled him down, he rolled for a moment, before being pinned beneath a figure. He narrowed his eyes, still trying desperately to keep his hands from bleeding, to little avail. He could feel the sanguine fluid seep between his fingers, the cloth doing nothing to help.
Now stationed like this, Solo was forced to look himself over. The various scars dotting his body, as well as the way his muscles strained at every breath he gasped for.
“Yes I’m Padlock,” he breathed irritatedly, still attempting to register what was happening. It was insanely dark, but he could faintly make out Phantom above him. His heart beat continued to speed up, yet he blamed it on the running. “And you are?”
With the last sentence, his voice seeped with sarcastic humor.
"You know who I am, now come here." Val scooted back in his lap, tugging up on his shoulders until he was sitting up and his face was close enough for him to see in the gloom. "Let me get a good look at you." It was too dark to make out anything specific, much to his annoyance, but the things he caught—piercing blue eyes, rustled hair—made him hungry for more.
He leaned in so close their faces were almost touching, eyes running over each of Padlock's features. The urge to touch was strong but he held back for now, content just to look. Once the allure was gone and he could hold a picture of Padlock in his head he leaned away, setting his hands on the villain's chest. "Why'd you strip? Not that I'm not enjoying the view or anything, but it doesn't seem like it helped very much with your escape attempt. And what was that wet stuff on the ladder? Did you sweat all over it or something?"
Solo just stared at the man, his eyes narrowed and face stoic but heart beat still going ballistic. He cocked his head at the man’s questions, his breathing finally slowing down into more of a usual normal state.
He winced as the man rested his hands on his chest, biting his tongue from the uncomfortable feeling of his fingers grazing over the relatively new scar on his left side. Due to the minuscule chisel embedded in it, it was always moderately sensitive.
As if it answered all questions, Pad held up both of his hands, the blood soaked fabrics looking like they were originally dyed red to begin with. Unfortunately, they had really started off white.
His hair was pushed up and out of his face, the strands crusted over with blood like hair gel. That’s what he would get for ‘fixing’ it with hands like these.
“Rope burn,” he muttered plainly. “I had to cover them with something, and shirt was the best candidate. Easier to rip than a jacket. As for the ladder, I would assume it’s blood, but it’s too dark to really tell I guess.”
Valentine picked up on the discomfort with a hum and shifted quietly until his fingers weren't pressing against any scars. "You poor thing," he murmured, taking one of Padlock's hands in his and squinting down at his palm. He'd gotten relatively adept at patching himself up in these last few years, though he didn't have to deal with nearly as many injuries as he had in the early days.
He cradled Padlock's hand in his, touch exceedingly gentle as he unwrapped the blood soaked shirt scraps to get a better look at the wound. It really wasn't pretty. "You should let me patch you up." He was understating it. There was no way Padlock could bandage himself up properly with his hands like that, if he even had the proper supplies down here at all.
"You probably got all scuffed up in the fall too, didn't you?" His hands drifted across Padlock's skin, feeling for any cuts or scrapes. It was hard to avoid the scars, but he dodged the ones he remembered feeling back in the office building. "Let me take you back to my place, I promise I'll take really good care of you. And I won't… I won't try to keep you there or anything! You're free to go after, I just don't want you getting some weird sewer infection and dying."
Padlock had to keep himself from laughing. So Phantom actually did think he fell. Didn’t he know better than to assume Pad was stupid?
Though he paused for a moment at the hero’s next proposal. It would be nice to get patched up, but it’s not like the 30 year old first aid kit he had laying around in his room was entirely useless. He could totally patch himself up, no sweat. That’s what he had done to all of his other scars.
Still, he found himself wanting to oblige. It’s not like it would be entirely terrible. The cops would show, sure, but that had never been even the slightest of an issue. Plus, it would be nice to keep an eye on Phantom, seeing as he now knew the relative whereabouts of his information storage. Now that was an issue.
“Fine,” he finally said, eyes still narrowed. It was nice to know that Phantom didn’t want him dead. At least he was safe in that aspect. As for the police, on the other hand, he was sure his sentence would involve some sort of… death, and probation would be taken as a joke.
Didn’t matter, though. He could slip the pen, easily. It just didn’t make sense as to why Phantom didn’t want him dead by normal means— just to turn him over to the officers so they could do it themselves.
There didn't seem to be any scrapes or scratches except a few that were probably from when Val had tackled him, which he was very relieved by. It didn't look like Padlock had any big bruises either, and he wasn't wincing or clutching at anything, which meant that besides his hands he was a picture of good health. Valentine slipped out of his lap with a smile and then set about helping Padlock to his feet.
"Thank you," he murmured, turning his smile on the man beside him. It was barely light enough to see it, but he hoped Padlock would get the message. "I think you'll like my apartment, apparently it's very fashionable. Not exactly your aesthetic, I don't think, but I hope you'll be able to appreciate it. Only thing wrong with it is that there's a bunch of ads on the window outside." His ads. He wasn't self conscious or anything, but something about seeing his face blown up and plastered onto some billboard made his skin crawl.
Calling the cops was the last thing on his mind as he towed Padlock back to the ladder. Sure, he'd probably do it eventually, but that would be after Padlock was patched up and wearing more and maybe given some tea to drink? Did he still have any tea, or had he used it up the last time his agent came over? "Oh! Do you like tea?"
Padlock followed the man back, picking up his jacket and slinging it over his shoulder on the way. He couldn’t help himself but question the niceties. Phantom acted like they were some old friends, just going back after a casual night out. Like they used to go out, have a few drinks, without one chasing after the other.
He couldn’t say he didn’t sort of like it.
He winced as he grabbed hold of the ladder, but grit his teeth and pushed through the pain as they ascended. By the time they crested the top, the fabric wraps had gotten even more beat up and ripped. That’s what a rusty ladder would do to a previously torn light shirt, he guessed.
Then, the question. Did he like tea? Padlock didn’t really even know. He had been solely surviving on bottled water and whatever else he could get from the streets. That included a somehow dangerously full box of expired energy drinks. No wonder Pad was always so fidgety.
“Maybe,” he said thoughtfully. “I haven’t had it in a very long time, though.”
Val fussed over him a bit more once they were up the ladder, gesturing for him to sit down on the bed while he searched around for the first aid kid he could swear he'd seen when he was messing around in here. "I can get something else if you don't! Might have some old cocoa lying around. Or maybe I could make some cocktails?" He glanced back at Padlock for a few seconds, barely enough time to get a read on him, and then he finally spotted the beat up old kit and his attention was stolen.
Picking through it was a bit difficult, but eventually he found the badges which would probably work even though they looked a bit musty. He settled by Padlock's side again, carefully unwrapping the blood soaked scraps of shirt and replacing them with sturdy bandages. "You should really get a sink in here." He moved on to the next hand, wincing a bit as he peeled the fabric off Padlock's skin. "Makes it a lot easier to tend to your wounds. Goodness knows you have enough scars already."
“Well, my apologies, but old abandoned maintenance rooms don’t normally come with sinks,” he muttered passively, gritting his teeth and sucking in a breath as Phantom patched his hands. Unlike he used to be able to do, he could look at the wound without wretching. That wasn’t always the case. It had been a long time since then, but he used to tear up even at the sight of blood on someone else. His first few scars earned very patchy work from him, still not even healing properly because Solo couldn’t look at them long enough to do a good job stitching them. Although he had now grown numb to it, the blood and torn skin only only earning him a sneer or grimace.
That said nothing for the scars across the bridge of his face. They even stretched to below his eyes, across the top of his cheeks. Those had never gotten easier to patch, especially since his only form of seeing himself was a broken mirror beside his computer.
Valentine winced his way through his work until the blood was hidden below layers upon layers of clean bandages and Padlock didn't look like he was hurting quite so much anymore. Something about seeing him in pain made Val hurt too, more than he had any right to. "All done!" He forced a smile onto his face and something cheerful into his voice, still cradling Padlock's hand in both of his.
The lighting here was good enough that he could actually see the other man so he took his time looking. "And I know they don't just come with sinks, that's why I said you should get one. Cleaning stuff out and stitching it properly makes the scarring a lot better, and you're not at risk of getting it infected." His eyes were on the scars as he spoke, tracing the lines that cut across his face. He knew better than to ask. "You know, I think I've got a cream that might help some of the newer ones fade a bit. Cut my knee open really good a year back and I didn't want it leaving a mark, but I kept forgetting to use it so there's still half a bottle lying around somewhere."
Solo still kept that almost brooding expression, his sunken eyes watching each of Phantom’s movement attentively.
“I don’t necessarily care,” he muttered. He had never thought of his scars as a bad thing, just refrained from oversharing how he got them. To him, they were something to be concealed, but they were also part of him. It showed him how far he had come, and what to do differently. Like little marks of failure, but he was still standing. Until he wasn’t, he had another shot at succeeding. But, then again, knowing Solo… he’d be one prideful enough to die standing up.
But, did Phantom not like them?
With that question aroused, Padlock froze. Why would he care what that guy thought? It didn’t matter— his opinion wasn’t going to influence him. It was a stupid notion.
With that, he shook the thought aside somewhat violently, bringing himself back to the situation at hand. Luckily he didn’t have trouble paying attention outside of his thoughts, considering the pain kept wrapping him back to the present.
With his hands wrapped, he clenched and unclenches his fists, muttering inaudibly to himself about how “It’ll have to do.”
He then looked up for a moment, meeting Phantom’s eyes with a tired gaze of his own. It was difficult to say the words, but he got them out.
“Thank you,” he grumbled, clearly upset by saying so.
Valentine frowned a bit at the muttering. It wasn't the prettiest job, but they were in a rush and he wanted to get back to his apartment so he could use some fresh bandages. Maybe a bit of disinfectant, if he could muster up the strength to inflict a little more pain on Padlock. Of course, the 'thank you' pretty effectively derailed his train of thought and he brightened up like a lightning bug.
"Oh!" Padlock's eyes were tired but his voice sounded genuine enough, if you ignored the grumpiness, and that was enough to send a whole hoard of butterflies into his stomach. It was something he noticed more and more with Padlock these days. He could flirt and flirt with anyone he wanted, but the second Padlock flirted back, or gave him some silly, sarcastic compliment, he felt like he could just float away. "It's really no problem! Can't have my favorite villain wandering around without anyone to take care of him, can I?"
The first aid kit was quickly repacked and pushed to the side. His fingers tapped on his thighs, quick and excited and he didn't really want to leave because that would mean ending such a pleasant little moment between them. "Anyways, it was really worth it to get to see your little hideout and everything. Just what a nemesis dreams of, I suppose, but I don't think we're really nemeses exactly. I like you quite a bit more than I think I'd like a nemesis."
“Ditto,” Solo admitted sarcastically, even though he knew full-well it was very true. “But I don’t know the rules, so I guess everything between us is technically fair-game.”
He even surprised himself with his words, but didn’t show even a stitch of it. His voice was plain, though, holding barely any fluctuation. Unlike his heart, however, which was skipping quite faster than he appreciated.
Padlock then let his eyes wander around the ‘hideout,’ which it barely was. He just stationed here part-time. He was often even further beneath the city, roaming the tunnels with multiple maintenance stops throughout. It looked sort of like a half-dilapidated subway station, that was hidden from the public a long time ago. It was musty, cold, and smelled like mildew, but he didn’t mind. He had always enjoyed the cold much more.
As previously established, the place was filled with old monitors and papers sprawled across the very janky desk. Wires plugged in everywhere, disconnected ones hanging from the stained ceiling. The only light sources were the one lamp hanging outside the door, and a very small light hanging from the ceiling. It casted a sort of blue glow across the place, giving into its sort of sci-fi ordeal. Caution tape plastered to one side of the wall, not a stylistic choice by any stretch at all though. The bed they sat on was technically a cheap cot, just holding a ragged but comfortable blanket and a diminutive pillow. It was an ominous place, for sure, but it was home for Solo.
His eyes then flicked back over to Phantom and he sighed, stretching out his arms. He clenched his jaw as he remembered how his shoulders had buckled, the aching pain seeping back through his arms. It didn’t seem to hinder him much, though. He had been though worse.
Valentine laughed at his sarcasm, leaning up against Padlock's side with a playful smile. "Oh come on, we don't have to make rules. We can just… I dunno, it's not like we're exactly heroing or villaining right now, maybe we can just be friends?" He tried to keep his voice from getting too hopeful, failed, and turned to Padlock with the biggest smile because if he was doing this then he was going to be as convincing as he knew how.
He'd been thinking about it for a while, actually. Being around Padlock made him act differently than he did with the other villains he faced off against, having a relationship with him outside their roles… well, it was something he liked to daydream about. And now seemed as good a time as any to ask. Padlock was letting him in a bit, why not push to be let in a little further?
"Hey, hey, none of that!" He swatted Padlock's arm lightly, attention off the offer he'd made for the moment. "We're supposed to be getting you patched up not aggravating your wounds. Honestly, what would you do without me?"
“Die, probably,” he muttered, glancing back around him. “As for being friends? Sure, I don’t see why not.”
In reality, he was just telling Phantom what he wanted to hear. Of course he wasn’t really going to be his friend. But, to keep him from being suspicious, Pad would agree to the offer.
Even though he anticipated Phantom ratting him out to the cops once they got close. All of them together… being monitored… Phantom sticking around him more often and figuring out his weaknesses… that’s what worried him. But he had to act like it didn’t.
Plus, being friends with the so-called ‘hero’ would give him an in, too. Perhaps he could learn exactly what made Phantom tick. Exactly what he could do to get suspicions off of himself. Maybe use the man to his advantage. It was a selfish thought, but Solo had a goal. A goal he desperately wanted to accomplish.
Valentine gave him a curious look, a tad disbelieving even though it was exactly what he wanted to hear. Maybe because it was exactly wanted to hear. No grumpiness, no sass, not even a whiff of sarcasm… He narrowed his eyes at Padlock, scooting in a bit closer. "Are you just telling me what I want to hear?" There was a frown on his face, an unusual sight. "I won't be upset or anything if you say no. Or… I won't be mad anyways." He'd probably be a little sulky for a few days, but that was nothing he couldn't get over. He didn't want to be selfish.
And anyways, pressuring Padlock into a friendship made it not a friendship at all, so he definitely didn't want to do that. No, he just wanted the chance to be normal with him. Go out together, see movies, maybe have someone he knew around next time he had to do something fancy. It got tiring, walking around this big city without anyone to walk with him. It made him miss his home.
“Uh… No?” Padlock replied, raising an eyebrow. “I’m okay with being your acquaintance outside of… encounters. I know I can’t really fight you, and you know you can’t really catch me regardless. It’s a stalemate. So, might as well take the time between fights to be friends. It makes sense, sort of. As long as you don’t hate my guts for doing what I do, we’re fine.”
He forced a tired smile to his face, even though he was slowly convincing himself. All in all, it wouldn’t be bad. Maybe they could even be closer someday, but Solo wasn’t counting on that.
They were technically friends already, seeing as they already had an interesting relationship for ‘enemies.’ The fact that they could sling around that kind of flirtatious sarcasm was already unlike normal feuds.
Then, just for fun, Solo leaned in closer, his smile flicking into more of a smirk.
“I’d be happy to oblige. If you can handle me,” he whispered, pursing his lips. He let his words linger heavy in the air, staying just inches away from Phantom before leaning back and getting up, making his way to the open door.
“Now, we going, or what?”
The explanation brought a smile to his lips and soon he was nodding along, worries put to rest. Padlock did a lot of things that were… morally ambiguous, to put it politely, but Valentine had known him for a while now and he trusted the guy. "Alright, alright, just making sure! I just figured you'd be a little less up front about it, you're not exactly known for your blunt honesty."
His smile went curious around the edges as Padlock leaned in and then a blush was blooming across his cheeks. You could practically hear his thoughts racing around his head as he tried to puzzle out what that little comment was supposed to mean, but Padlock was up and over to the door before he could even begin to think of what to say. He tossed his hair over his shoulder, still flustered as he made his way out of Padlock's hideout.
"I…. yeah. Yeah, um… just… random question." he'd never told Padlock who he was, not explicitly, but there was no way he wouldn't make the connection. If he didn't recognize Val's house, then he'd see the giant ads outside his apartment. "How up to date are you with celebrity gossip?"
“Phantom, I live underground. I couldn’t care less about the world upstairs,” he muttered, turning back to the man and walking backward so he could keep a eye on him.
In truth, that was a complete bluff. He had seen Phantom around everywhere. Even enough to know who he really was. Still, he liked using the ‘hero name’ much more. Considering Solo didn’t think they were fit to be on a first-name basis. Yet.
As for Padlock himself? He didn’t think there was a single person on the planet who knew his real name.
“Oh, and you owe me a new helmet, by the way,” he said, turning back around. There was a slight skip to his step, noticeable enough, and a lightness to his words. He didn’t bother hiding it, just passed it off as moderate sarcasm. “You made me drop my other one. And, I’m sure you’d like someone to buy it rather than have me steal it, no? Or not? Sometimes you confuse me. Considering you’re hanging out with a ‘villain,’ right now, and not leading me to my doom. Or maybe you are. I don’t know.”
"Oh. Yeah, I…" He laughed quietly, pink in the cheeks again. "I guess I didn't really think about that, sorry. You're gonna figure out who I am pretty soon, so I guess there's really no harm in telling you that my name's Valentine. You can still call me Phantom if you want to, though. It'd feel weird to call you anything other than Padlock." He was babbling a bit, spurred on by the way Padlock was watching him. He reached over and linked his arm with the villain's, hoping the contact would anchor him a little.
It didn't work as well as he'd hoped but he wasn't turning back now, not when he had a warm solid body up against his side.
He pouted a bit at the accusation, bumping Padlock with his hip. "I do not owe you a new helmet! I mean… I'll buy it if it's gonna keep you from stealing one but it's not my fault you're clumsy. And I'm not leading you to your doom either." He rolled his eyes. "You're so dramatic, we're hanging out as friends right now. Friends don't turn friends into the police, and it's not like you've ever been all that villainous anyways. You're just… anti-government."
“Fair enough,” Solo murmured, glancing from their arms back to the ongoing tunnel. He stumbled to the side slightly at the bump, not as light on his feet as one would expect.
It was then they came to another ladder, and Solo reluctantly unlinked his arm to climb it. He bit down on his lip to brace for the pain in his palms, happy for the new bandages. They provided just nearly enough padding to bear the ladder. Still, they wouldn’t be healed anytime soon, and Solo was not happy about it, even in the slightest. But they were just new scars to add to the collection. Though, these ones would probably have a different story than the most of them. Normally it was, 1. Go out and get scar, 2. Patch it up yourself, 3. Move on with life. He didn’t know he’d ever put in ‘befriend the hero’ between any of those. But look where he was.
He looked up, pushing the grate open and climbing out. It was only as he stood there he remembered he was shirtless, and he quickly pulled over his jacket. The zipper had broken years ago, so he just meagerly wrapped it around his chest, crossing his arms with slight difficulty as he waited for Phantom to join him.
“And, Valentine?” he asked, acting like he hadn’t known that already. “It’s a nice name. Phantom seems to suit you better, though.”
Val was back at Padlock's side the second they were on the street again, looping their arms together and snickering quietly when he noticed the way he was holding his jacket closed. "You can probably let go of that, you know." They started their walk on one of the busier streets, surrounded by a seemingly endless crowd of people as they made their way down town. "It's a big city, everyone's seen weirder. Like one time, I was riding the subway home from work, and this guy was wearing a my little pony thong and nothing else, and nobody even gave him a second glance 'cause that's just how it goes when you ride the night trains."
The compliment—if you could even call it a compliment—had him smiling, and soon he was off on a whole new string of babbling. "I'm glad you think so! I really liked it when they picked it out for me, it was all spooky and mysterious and stuff and I'm…" he glanced down at himself, biting his lip. "… well I'm definitely not that. And Valentine is so girly too, I've never really liked it. Not that there's anything wrong with being girly! Girls are wonderful, I just… I dunno, I wish I could be a little more…"
They made it further and further from the sewers as he spoke, talking about everything that came to mind and giving Padlock nervous little glanced every now and again like he was waiting for him to stop listening. Eventually, they found their way to one of the fancier apartment buildings, which was saying something because the area they were in was already quite expensive. Older than the buildings around it, all white stone and fancy buttresses. "Oh! Here we are. I hope you're alright with taking the stairs, elevator's busted."
