[open thread] pyromaniac bitches are my favorite kind of bitches

[fireaholic.livejournal.com]

Characters: John Allerdyce, you.
Setting: Common area, recreation room, what have you.
Content: Amazing.
Status: Open and incomplete.



[John's in one of his usual moods. (Read: a bored and prickish one.) He's sitting on one of the couches in the wreck room, leaning forward, both his injured hand and his good one propped on his knees. He's opening and closing his Zippo, surveying the room and its occupants. Every now and then he turns towards the TV, where the news is on, but only when he hears something about mutants or fires or anything that catches his ear.]

Comments

[fireaholic.livejournal.com]

What, you think putting your life on the line for some cause is fun? [John says this incredulously, kicking Kevin's calf hard enough to jostle him, turn his attention back to John, but not hurt him. He's angled now to face his roommate, standing over him, palms open-faced and arms slightly apart from his body.] Shit, you think having a cause is a fucking rodeo, man, is that what you're saying? [John's on a roll now; he lifts his hands to gesture carelessly in the direction of the basketball court, the jet hanger, beyond the windows.] You slap on some fucking spandex and life makes sense and you've got a goddamn place to belong? Of course you'd hate it; it's worth horseshit. We don't need it.